Shakespeare Essay

I enjoyed the feedback I received last time, so I figured I'd post this again. It's due Monday, and any feedback would be appreciated. I think I really screwed up with the Letters of Rec, though, so I'm not sure if I'll be doing a complete application anymore. The NEH requirements for the Letters of Rec are different from the actual Institute's requirements, and I just noticed. One was supposed to be from a former student, and that one's done (Thanks, "Bobby"), but the other one I thought could be from a colleague (I chose him after much deliberation, and he's written one that I'm sure is honest and strong), but instead it has to be from a Department Head. My Department Head is a nice lady, but often asks me to send emails or type things for her, and I just don't think she can be as specific as my colleague, and am worried she can get something like this done in a weekend (no working computer at home, that one). Oh well, I'll figure it out. Anyhow, the essay is below. I'm not terribly happy with it but the requirements are so disparate that I'm not sure how else to do it. I'll put the requirements below again. By the way, it is exactly at the 4-page limit, and I had to shrink to size-11 font and .9" margins to do it. I will be proofreading it more, but am too tired to tonight. (Also, look for no meaning in the psuedonyms I chose... I just watched Michael Clayton.) Here it is:

Remembering the Challenge of Shakespeare

I was a sophomore in high school the first time I uttered a single syllable of Shakespeare’s language. Mr. Hughes, my new English teacher, called on me to read a section of MacBeth, and I hesitantly obliged. I was a good student in English and loved reading, but the language here was debilitating; I read every word as carefully as I could, without any attention to tone or meaning. Suddenly, a few classmates started laughing. Embarrassed, but intent not to show it, I chuckled along with them, trying to show that I was in on the joke as well. But I was not. I had no idea what was going on, and when Mr. Hughes – also laughing - asked me to explain the joke, I was at a loss (and I was rarely at a loss in English class); I turned red and tried to bury myself in my chair.

This incomprehension and confusion while reading was a new experience for me, and I hated it. Now, as an adult, I believe that education requires struggle, but then, I was more worried about getting my first B and continuing through the torturous experience of having to read a book I didn’t “get.” Something happened as I read the play, though. Mr. Hughes gave his lectures and had us act out certain scenes, and we discussed what the characters were feeling and why they were doing the things they were doing. And, slowly, the clouds parted. Eventually, I was able to read the words and understand them, and ended up being enveloped in the grippingly and inevitably flawed characters of MacBeth. Afterwards, I was damn proud of myself to have both finished it and understood it.

This feeling of pride in comprehension is something I always try to remember when I teach Shakespeare, or any other challenging literature. When my students – reluctant readers or otherwise – grumble about not “getting it,” I try to remember that feeling of satisfaction I had after finishing MacBeth, and how much I hated it at first. By the end, I was enthralled by the story, but more excited that I had read something – something tough - that people for hundreds of years have read around the world.

However, that first humiliating moment in Mr. Hughes’ class, and the subsequent struggles, still color my experience with the bard, just a bit, which is one reason I want to be a part of the Folger Teacher Shakespeare Institute in 2008. Every year, when I crack open Romeo and Juliet with 9th graders, or Othello or MacBeth with 11th graders, I think about my first experience with Shakespeare. While I want the students to feel the accomplishment of reading and comprehending a Shakespearean play, I also want them to have some fun with it, to see that Shakespeare is not something to be feared. I have made it my goal in my classroom to make Shakespeare accessible and relevant to the lives of my students.

I teach in a large urban public school in Baltimore City, and the majority of my students are bright but hesitant readers. Because of this, my experiences while teaching Shakespeare have often been grounded in activities adapted from Folger’s Shakespeare Set Free; my goal is for them to learn to be comfortable with the language, and to use that as a springboard for appreciation of the cultural setting of the play, and later into grappling with its characters and themes. I assess the latter by having the students text-mark, or annotate, their scenes for directorial and actor choices, and then to perform and defend their choices based on the character traits and themes they wanted to convey. Generally, students then write a formal essay supporting their claims about the text and their scene.

And a writing project similar to this is related to one of my biggest mistakes as a teacher in the last year. I teach some very bright students, and spend a great deal of time constructing challenging assignments for them. And, sometimes, I spend too much time with the work of the students who are struggling the most instead of the work of the stronger writers. I discovered this recently when a colleague needed a model of an essay from my course for a presentation she was giving, I chose an essay from Sheba the Angel of Death, one of my top students last year. This essay asked students to establish and analyze an original link between two international texts. Students struggled mightily with finding their original and specific links, with finding evidence, and with organizing and finally writing their essay. Sheba the Angel of Death, however, did not. He chose his topic early and worked without worry throughout the planning stages, and he received an “A” for the course and the essay. However, upon reading his essay the next year, I could not believe how mundane it was. His idea was dull, his treatment of it was mediocre, and his conclusion was weak.

Upon reflection, I discovered that my halo effect bias for Sheba the Angel of Death probably really hurt his development as a writer. I was so pleased with his clarity and writing skills that the fact that his ideas were lackluster was of little concern to me; my concern was with students who could barely write sentences with correct subject/verb agreement. While part of my reaction probably has to do with seeing the essay a year later after another year of experience teaching the course, more of it certainly had to do with my concentration on other students. Basically, I let Sheba the Angel of Death slide by.

This moment led to an epiphany with me: spend as much time with the top students as I do with all the rest of the students. It was a good lesson for me, because, so often, whether it is to raise HSA scores or to help everyone receive an IB Diploma, teachers end up concentrating on the lowest-achieving students. It is important to focus on all students, though, because they all need it. I told Sheba the Angel of Death, now a senior, about my new revelations about his essay; he thanked me, but was honest: he said he had a gut feeling it was not as good as he was capable, and told me he wished he had gotten the feedback when he could have used it more. And he was right. This gut-check was the biggest revelation to my teaching practice this past year.

This lesson of engaging all students regardless of ability is something I strive to maintain in all my classes, and my favorite example of that occurring in the past few months is my 9th grade students completing a pastiche of Sandra Cisneros’ The House on Mango Street. Understanding that a writer makes choices is one of the most important aspects in encouraging a student – particularly a literal-minded 9th grade student – to make inferences and conduct analysis of literature. One of my favorite activities in promoting this idea is having the students create a pastiche, or an original piece of writing in the style of the author. Cisneros, with her deceptively simple style, is an ideal choice. For this particular activity, I had students create five pastiches based on Cisneros’ text. In addition, they wrote a Statement of Intent in which they explained in what ways they emulated Cisneros’ style, and what effect this achieved.

What this activity did was encourage students to think like a writer, having them use several stylistic elements that Cisneros employs: her frequent use of metaphor and other figurative language, her child point of view, her constant use of different kinds of imagery, her examination of social issues. The Statement of Intent encouraged students to focus on devices and their effects. Lastly, the actual pieces of writing they produced were often stunningly beautiful; we bounded them together and performed them for each other in a “coffee shop” event in the classroom. Upon reflection, the activity accomplished much of the same goals as a traditional analytic essay would have, plus allowed the students to engage in a high-interest and creative writing activity.

As I enter the spring of my seventh year of teaching – the year that I will also receive my Master’s Degree in Secondary Education – I am more certain than ever that the frequently frustrating and challenging job of teaching English is also the most fulfilling and worthwhile thing I could be doing on this planet. Teaching literature, and channeling students' unique, unabashed personalities and opinions into thoughtful, clearly expressed ideas and well-defended arguments about it, makes English class a gateway to a fuller and richer understanding of the world around us. Shakespeare accomplishes this perhaps more than any other writer. If taught in a way that promotes understanding without murdering pleasure, learning Shakespeare can charge our senses and prompt conversations about ethics, race, justice, gender, history, and culture. While I have worked hard at my teaching of Shakespeare and all challenging literature, I notice weaknesses – sometimes assigning instead of teaching, sometimes forgetting that I want my students to enjoy reading for the rest of their lives and not over-analyze it – that push me to want to be better.

This brings me to the reason of my application. My friend and colleague, Broson Pinchot, participated in the 2007 Folger Summer Institute for Teachers, and the experience has helped bring dynamic lessons about Julius Caesar, MacBeth, and The Tempest to her classroom and students. My experience with the Folger Shakespeare Set Free series, as well as attending a session conducted by the group’s members at the 2006 NCTE Convention (at which Mr. Pinchot and I presented as well), has made it clear that my own teaching of Shakespeare would be greatly enhanced by participating in the Institute. In addition to learning more methods of teaching several of the Shakespeare plays that I plan to continue teaching – Romeo and Juliet, MacBeth, and Othello – I hope to broaden my knowledge of Shakespeare’s plays so I would feel confident choosing different selections to teach. Lastly, I hope I can apply ideas about teaching Shakespeare to the study of other dramas, such as the works of August Wilson, Lorraine Hansberry, and Athol Fugard, all of whom frequently appear in my classroom. I am certain that the Folger Teachers Institute will help enhance my classroom practice, and continue to bring more lively and rigorous study of Shakespeare to Baltimore City public school students.

******
Requirements:
As stipulated by the instructions, the essay should contain any relevant personal and academic information.

It should address your reasons for applying, and your interest, both academic and personal, in the subject of Shakespeare, as well as the qualifications and experiences that equip you to do the work of the Institute and to make a contribution to our learning community.

It should contain a statement of what you hope to accomplish by participating, and how the work of the Institute relates to your professional responsibilities.

In addition, we are interested in reading about your specific experiences in the classroom, and we ask that you describe a teaching strategy that you attempted but discovered to be a terrible failure, and then describe one that you found to be a complete success.

We are also interested in your ability to respond to a fast-paced academic schedule, and to interact with many new colleagues.

The essay is probably the most important part of your application.

Essay should be no longer than four (4) double-spaced pages.

Murs

I'm completely obsessed with this independent rapper named Murs lately. His name is an acronym - according to his Wikipedia page - for "Most Underground Rap Sucks" (or "Making Underground Real Shit") and I discovered him as I starting digging into the history of Digital Underground. See, that band, of "The Humpty Dance" fame (one of my current favorites during workouts), has a lead emcee named Shock G, or his alter ego Humpty Hump, and both Shock G and Humpty Hump (how confusing is that?) guested on a really funny song called "Risky Business" with this guy named Murs. I had no idea what it was, but I downloaded it and have been really into that particular song. I decided to research the guy Murs a little bit more, and downloaded one of his albums, and it turns out he's a consummate storyteller with great production and the sort of internal conflicts that hip-hop seems to explore more, or better, than other genres of music. At least for me, lately.

I'm realy obsessed with this song lately, "God's Work," which is poetry that is self-obsessed, -aggrandizing,and -critiquing in all the best ways. I just can't get enough of it:

Professionally developed

When we are allowed to meet together and do relevant work and planning, I really love professional development. Today was one of those days - I'm excited about our direction, our collaboration, and what this will all (theoretically) bring us next year.

I'm hoping that someday I'll be in a school that has, say, every Wednesday afternoon set aside for collaboration. I've heard of these schools before, and would just love at least a little of this satisfied, we're-all-in-this-together feeling that I have right now to be integrated with more regularity into my career.

That's all. It's Friday but the weekend is chock full: finishing my essay for the Folger Institute, starting baseball tryouts tomorrow, and two shifts waiting tables. Not to mention grading and planning that seems to have snuck up on me.

Student Teaching in urban schools

I've been trying to get student teachers into our school for some time. It's not that I have any pull or anything, but since I'm in graduate school at a local university, I figure that maybe I can be a communication point for it. Basically, I think my school would be a great place to learn to teach: our curriculum is flexible and created in-house, not handed out by distanced curriculum specials; the students are mostly open-minded, respectful but disarmingly honest at times; we often collaborate and backwards-plan on units. And, I'll be honest: it would be cool to have a student teacher, to get fresh ideas and improve my craft through the eyes of another.

I finally found what I thought would be an "in" at the university. My advisor and current professor is trying to start up an urban education program at the school. She asked me to come and speak with interested students. However, just two showed up today. There is currently no one signed up for the course.

It's too bad, because the only way our cities will become better is if the schools become better, and I don't understand how there can be this little interest in teaching in urban schools, or even learning about teaching in urban schools. When I was at Michigan State, I felt like this was a bit of a priority from the professors - we read Jonathan Kozol and Mike Rose; I remember something clicking for me when one of my professors sort of looked at us all and said he expected us to consider teaching in an urban school. I had never really considered it, and still reall didn't, but was placed in an urban school upon graduation for my post-graduate student teaching year, and fell in love with it. I'm quite sure I'll never teach in another type of environment again, just because, as cheesy as this sounds, I feel like I'm making more of a difference than I would be if I was teaching elsewhere.

The stories she told me about prospective teacher candidates at this university, however, were disconcerting. She has students (her college students, the prospective teachers) attend an event every semester hosted by the Baltimore Urban Debate League, one of the many beacons of hope and intelligence within the city school system. She said that one girl walked into a school and walked out without seeing any of the debate events. The next week, at class, she said, "Well, I just walked into the school, and this black girl was just yelling her head off, and I just turned right around. I can't deal with that." She says this is the sort of thing she is up against when trying to create an urban education program. Unfortunately, this is more the rule than the exception. Most of the teaching candidates want to work in the county, or even where they went to high school.

One of the paths I can see myself embarking on is trying to reach out to young teachers who want to teach in city schools. I thought this university, where I'm getting my Master's degree, would be my path. I'm still hopeful, but disheartened. How can someone who cares about making the future a better place just refuse outright to teach in a city school? How can, out of sixty student teachers last year, only one put city schools in their top three choices for placement? I just don't get it, and, honestly, I don't think I'm that special. When I got my education degree, I was ready to change the world. I still am. Isn't that why people become teachers, after all?

Some updates

1. Interesting post about class size on the Inside Ed Baltimore Sun education blog.

2. I got most of my Oscar predictions correct, at least from the blog. At the party, I tended to go more with my heart than my head (Holbrook over Bardem, Ryan over Swinton), so I lost. My "Michael Clayton" costume went over just fine. The party and comraderie were good, but the actual telecast was a bit of a letdown. I guess I don't care that much about the Oscars anymore. Probably a good thing.

3. I made it back to school today, finally feeling better. My colleague nicknamed me "Buttburst," which is fairly accurate to how my last five days went. It was more double-over-in-pain, though, especially Friday and Saturday. I think I caught that stomach flu that had been going around College Park.

4. This is my last week free before baseball season begins. Life will become very hectic then.

5. I've been working on my application essay for the Folger Summer Teachers Institute, and it's just not coming off right.

The Prompt:

As stipulated by the instructions, the essay should contain any relevant personal and academic information.

It should address your reasons for applying, and your interest, both academic and personal, in the subject of Shakespeare, as well as the qualifications and experiences that equip you to do the work of the Institute and to make a contribution to our learning community.

It should contain a statement of what you hope to accomplish by participating, and how the work of the Institute relates to your professional responsibilities.

In addition, we are interested in reading about your specific experiences in the classroom, and we ask that you describe a teaching strategy that you attempted but discovered to be a terrible failure, and then describe one that you found to be a complete success.

We are also interested in your ability to respond to a fast-paced academic schedule, and to interact with many new colleagues.

The essay is probably the most important part of your application.

Essay should be no longer than four (4) double-spaced pages.

This is what I have so far. It's a bit cliched and clunky, but passable. I'm having a hard time with talking about my "terrible failure" activity. I mean, I feel like I have failures most days, right, but I try to adjust them quickly. Thinking about one "terrible failure" is daunting, because I try to stop failure before it becomes terrible. So I'm brainstorming an assignment that I gave that just produced terrible results, because I didn't teach it well enough. Or something like that. But I'd like to relate back to Shakespeare somehow, and it's tough. I've been playing with it for the last week and now am at the 3-day limit. It needs to get done. Here it is so far:

My first time uttering any words of Shakespeare occurred when Mr. Hughes called on me to read a section of MacBeth orally to the rest of our sophomore English class. I was a good student in English and loved reading, but the language was debilitating; I read every syllable as carefully as I could, without any attention at all to tone or meaning. Suddenly, a few classmates started laughing. Embarrassed but intent not to show it, I chuckled along with them, trying to show that I was in on the joke as well. But I was not. I had no idea what was going on, and when Mr. Hughes – also laughing - asked me to explain the joke, I was at a loss (and I was rarely at a loss in English class); I turned red and tried to bury myself in my chair.

Now, by the end of the play, I had come to enjoy the grippingly and inevitably flawed characters of MacBeth, and was damn proud of myself to have both finished it and understood it. This feeling of pride in comprehension is something I always try to remember when I teach Shakespeare, or any other challenging literature. When my students – reluctant readers or otherwise – grumble about not “getting it,” I try to remember that feeling of satisfaction I had after finishing MacBeth. I was enthralled by the story, but more excited that I had read something – something tough - that people for hundreds of years have read around the world.

However, that humiliating moment in Mr. Hughes’ class still colors my experience with the bard, just a bit, which is one reason I want to be a part of the Folger Teacher Shakespeare Institute in 2008. Every year, when I crack open Romeo and Juliet with 9th graders, or Othello or MacBeth with 11th graders, I think about my first experience with Shakespeare. While I want the students to feel the accomplishment of reading and comprehending a Shakespearean play, I also want them to have some fun with it, to see that Shakespeare is not something to be feared. I have made it my goal in my classroom to make Shakespeare accessible and relevant to the lives of my students.

I teach in a large urban public school in Baltimore City, and the majority of my students are bright but hesitant readers. Because of this, my experiences while teaching Shakespeare have often been grounded in activities adapted from Folger’s Shakespeare Set Free; my goal is for them to learn to be comfortable with the language, and to use that as a springboard for appreciation of the cultural setting of the play, and later into grappling with the characters and themes of the play. I assess the latter by having the students text-mark, or annotate, their scenes for directorial and actor choices, and then to perform and defend their choices based on the character traits and themes they wanted to convey. Generally, students then write a formal essay supporting their claims about the text and their scene.

And herein lies one of my biggest mistakes as a teacher in the last year. I teach some very bright students

Oscars and sickness

I called in sick today to the waiting tables job, the first time I've called in sick in my 5 years there. Yes, my stomach problems are that bad. I worked last night but ended up doing a lot of doubling over in pain and grimacing throughout the evening. I feel better now, and won't go into too many gory details, but I think I'll be able to make my Oscar party tonight if I'm able to stay normal for the next couple of hours. But maybe not, as well. There's a chance I'll even take a sick day from school tomorrow, because going in with a little cold is one thing, but going in when really gross things are coming out of your body at inopportune times is something I've never done and probably don't want to start tomorrow.

Since I'm feeling better now and not laying in a fetal position on my bed, I rented Michael Clayton off of I-Tunes. It was a decent movie. I don't quite understand Tilda Swinton's Oscar nomination - didn't anyone else notice her wavering American accent? - but she was pretty great in that last scene with Clooney. Decent movie, but doesn't deserve to upset in the Best Picture race.

I've now seen 4 of the 5 nominees for Best Picture, and am still rooting for There Will Be Blood. I have little desire to see Atonement. How in the world does James McAvoy keep getting great roles? I hold him to the same esteem as I do Orlando Bloom - some ninny young actor who somehow gets a lot of great roles early in his career without paying his dues.

And here are my Oscar predictions:

Best Picture
Should win: There Will Be Blood: Great film that I still can't get out of my mind.
Will win: No Country for Old Men: The Coen Brothers' 3rd or 4th best film of their career. It's alright.
Should have been nominated: Into the Wild: The Best Movie of the year, as far as I'm concerned. Sean Penn took a nearly unfilmmable book and made it work.

Best Actor:
Should win: Daniel Day Lewis: If only for that scene in the church. Wow.
Will win: Daniel Day Lewis: Seems like he has the momentum
Should have been nominated: Emile Hirsch: His turn in Into the Wild was really, really good.

Best Actress:
Should win: Laura Linney: I didn't see the movie but I think she's just about the best actress alive.
Will win: Julie Christie: She's good, but I'm not that into Disease-of-the-Week movies. The movie was just alright.
Should have been nominated: Keri Russell: She was good in that pie movie and it would have been neat to see Felicity nominated.

Best Supporting Actress
Should win: Amy Ryan: Maybe she'll mention The Wire in her acceptance speech.
Will win: Tilda Swinton: This one is a horse race. I think Swinton will win it.
Should have been nominated: Catherine Keener in Into the Wild

Best Supporting Actor
Should win: Hal Holbrook: He was heartbreaking and he's old. I love when old people give speeches at the Oscars.
Will win: Javier Bardem: Whatever. He was good and scary.
Should have been nominated: Nate Parker, The Great Debaters: He's a star in the making; Paul Dano, There Will Be Blood: He blew me away; Steven Wiig, Into the Wild - was great at Catherine Keener's husband.

Diablo Cody deserves her Best Script award. I'll be rooting for PTA to win Best Adapted Script, but the Coen Brothers will win it. They'll also win Best Direction, which is fine - they've been around a long time and have had great careers.

I'm going to buy some play-dough.

Barack Obama on hip-hop, The Wire

I believe that Barack Obama has galvanized a nation based on a message of optimism for what our country and government can be, and that this message is solidified with a long record of policy positions and decisions and a specific plan of how he will bring this plan into action as President.

The reason I've become so anti-Hillary isn't so much because of policy, for she is solid here, but because she will represent just more of the same BS politics that we have had for 20 years in this country. It's been her husband that has been guilty of this during the campaign much more, but she's guilty too: there's a reason her "change you can xerox" comment received boos at the debate. It's cynical and distruthful, and people are just sick of that.

With all this being said, another thing that impresses me about Obama is his political bravery. It was awesome to see him praise, and then criticize, Hollywood when he was in L.A. last month. He does the same thing here with hip-hop. Yes, he listens to it, and yes, he has misgivings sometimes about it. This is part of what fascinates young people about Barack: he's politician who can speak this intelligently about a matter of concern to young people around the country. He's not telling people what they want to hear, that's not what he's doing, but speaking in a manner that is criticizing but not condemning.



And, along the same lines, you all have probably heard, but Barack Obama's favorite TV show is The Wire. This doesn't make me vote for him - I wouldn't change my vote to McCain if he said the same thing - but it sure impresses the hell out of me. Him saying this makes me respect him more, because if you like that show, it pretty much means you don't like bullshit. To quote David Simon, "Fuck the average reader!" Gotta love it.

And his favorite character is Omar. While choosing the show itself probably isn't politically very safe - it's provocative - choosing Omar probably is. After all, who doesn't love Omar? Definitely glad he didn't say Carcetti though.

The yearly dilemma of the Oscar costume

Does anyone know where I might be able to buy a bowling pin in the Baltimore area? I just need one, so I can turn it into my Oscar party costume. That will make sense to those who have seen the magnificent There Will Be Blood, but not to others.

My other idea is to go as pregnant Juno, which would get some laughs but get old really quick.

I also thought about carrying around a fire extinguisher and acting like I'm killing people with it by shooting them in the head with the tube, but I just couldn't find a Javier Bardem wig online anywhere.

I could probably pull off Michael Moore from Sicko, if I put on some padding and got some medical props. I've got the Tigers or MSU hat, of course.

This year, I care almost nothing about what wins. Two years ago, I was really rooting for Brokeback Mountain. Last year, I was really rooting for Babel. This year, I don't feel that much about any of the films nominated. I liked There Will Be Blood a lot, but it's not Magnolia. No Country For Old Men was underwhelming. The best movie I saw last year, Into the Wild wasn't nominated, unfortunately. Go Hal Holbrook!

first by mind, then by music / you'll make this all less confusing

I'm not feeling terrible, but I can't go very long without having to make a very quick trip to the bathroom. A trip to the gym devolved into a trip to the grocery store to get Pepto Bismol, and that was truncated by me having to get the hell out of there and get home to my bathroom really quickly. I don't know what's up, but I hope it passes by tomorrow, when I have to wait tables. I haven't called in sick in five years, but tomorrow might be the first time. I just can't do it in this state.

My snow day, then, was just sitting around, watching movies and surfing the internet, doing a bit of grading and writing as well.

In the mid-nineties, when I first started discovering music, I went on a big kick for female rock artists. The first one I really had a crush on was Lisa Loeb. I think it was her geekiness, and her seeming approachability, that really got me. Even now, check out video below, made just a few nights ago on Conan. It's not only the glasses. Check out what she's wearing! So not a rockstar, in an endearing way. I thought she would have a great career - her first CD, Tails, still holds up well, as far as I'm concerned - but is more a footnote than anything else now. It's still pretty cool that an unsigned artist can have a #1 hit, though - one wonders if that could happen today, fourteen years later - and I'm sure she's doing just fine for herself even though her last couple albums didn't crack the hot Billboard 200.

Anyhow, she wrote "Snow Day," which I try to listen to on every snow day. Here she is singing the song, apparently just a few days ago on Conan O'Brien:

Snow Day / Sick Day

We got the advertised snow day, which is nice, but also frustrating for me, because I probably wouldn't be able to be in school today anyway. I have been suffering from some sort of stomach ailment for much of the week - I had to leave 4/5 period class in the middle to throw up - and last night it became horrible. I couldn't get to sleep into deep in the early morning, spending much of that time in the bathroom, and so far this morning, I already have had to shower twice. Without getting into too many details, it's pretty gross.

I've felt a little bit better in the last hour, even having a bowl of cereal to try to fill some of the emptiness in my system (I had no idea how stuff is still coming out). I'm going to begin my Folger Shakespeare Institute application essay in a few minutes. It's been stewing in my mind for a while now, and finally I have a good idea:

Join us for an intensely rewarding four-week institute focused on teaching Shakespeare this coming summer.

Since 1984, the Folger Shakespeare Library has held a regular series of Teaching Shakespeare Institutes (TSI) funded by the National Endowment for the Humanities. TSI features a committed faculty composed of scholars, teachers, and actors, a diverse and talented participant group; a research component that utilizes the rich holdings of the Folger Shakespeare Library; the modeling of excellent teaching and learning; and a curriculum component that has been instrumental in changing the way Shakespeare is taught in classrooms around the country.

As stipulated by the instructions, the essay should contain any relevant personal and academic information.



It should address your reasons for applying, and your interest, both academic and personal, in the subject of Shakespeare, as well as the qualifications and experiences that equip you to do the work of the Institute and to make a contribution to our learning community.



It should contain a statement of what you hope to accomplish by participating, and how the work of the Institute relates to your professional responsibilities.



In addition, we are interested in reading about your specific experiences in the classroom, and we ask that you describe a teaching strategy that you attempted but discovered to be a terrible failure, and then describe one that you found to be a complete success.

We are also interested in your ability to respond to a fast-paced academic schedule, and to interact with many new colleagues.

The essay is probably the most important part of your application.

Essay should be no longer than four (4) double-spaced pages.

snow day?

One of my favorite types of days - the weather forecast is calling for snow, and not only snow, but the perfect kind of snow for a snow day. In other words, the type of snow that comes after midnight and then freezes over.

The city sent over paychecks in anticipation of the weather and a possible snow day. Just about everyone is expecting one.

We'll see what happens. I sure wish this weather turn wasn't happening a week before baseball season starts, though.

Reading and disappointment

Today was a day I spent a lot of time calling parents during class on my cell phone. I love the effectiveness of talking to a parent, me saying that the student is right in front of me, and the parent demanding to speak with him/her right there in the hallway in front of me.

I told the students that if they do not do the reading - the minimum requirement of the course - that they will fail. I tell them that if they fail all the quizzes, I will assume that they're not doing the reading, and thus assume that all of the activities they do with the book are faked and therefore no credit. I am hoping it doesn't come down to me actually failing anyone for this, but we're on our third quiz, and while the vast majority are reading, I'm still getting scores of 3 out of 20 and 5 out of 20.

I told one kid who got a 60% that he needs to read the book closer, that the book could change his life. He looks at me cock-eyed and asks, "Why, do you think I could end up like Jefferson?". I hadn't thought of that, but his question rang true. This is a known gang member who had been in a number of fights this year. He's also a pretty nice kid, and he does well in my class. I give him a look that works like a tacit affirmative to his question, without actually saying it. And he buckles down and tells me he'll guarantee an "A" on his next quiz on Friday.

That 10th period class, I love them. All I have to do is tell them they are being a disappointment and they change their behavior. I actually had one student tell me today, "You can't call me a disappointment." And he's right, I can't. Really, even the student who I call "The Walking Disappointment" (I called him that once and now he calls himself that, saying it's his epithet, like from The Odyssey) isn't really one - he just can do better.

None of the Juniors read any more, once you get past the advanced classes. I need to make sure I'm not sending kids along in English class who don't do their reading.

Ceiling caving in

Today, in the middle of my 10th period English class, two ceiling titles disintigrated into crumbs and fell on a kid in the back row.

He brushed flakes of ceiling off his shoulder, happy the large chunks to his left had just missed him.

Without a phone in my classroom, I dialed my school's office with my personal cell phone. I was put on hold. Eventually, I hung up, and tried again, and someone finally was sent up to my classroom.

The leak coming from above had been reported a few times before, but it had never been fixed. The building is very old and the problems are many. At least I didn't have a pipe burst in the middle of class, as happened to a colleague down the hall on Thursday.

I often hear about state allotment per pupil, and how the city gets more than its fair share for its students, that it's mismanagement that keeps my class sizes at around 35 and no textbooks in my students' hands. I don't buy it at all. I don't know the last time a new school was built in the city, but I'm sure it's been a while. The BCPSS has to do deal with terrible old buildings and can only afford band-aids to fix them. There's no money or room to build better facilities. And it sucks.

Restaurant ponderings

I started waiting tables in June of 2003. I had just returned from a rather unplanned trip (but really, really worth it) to Italy for a couple of weeks, and was in rather dire financial straits. My power had been turned off the month before. My car was really close to being repossessed. I had no money to get through the summer. My credit score was terrible.

So I got the second job. It's helped me a lot. It got me completely out of 5-digit credit card debt. It helped pay for medical procedures as a result of my double retina detachment. It helped me pay off my car. Nowadays, it's helped me pay for graduate school. I now have a bit more credit card debt than I'd like as a result of said graduate school, and it's helping me pay it down while I wait for tuition reimbursement. It's also giving me extra spending money. And, frankly, I really enjoy the social aspect of it; I've made some good, even lifelong, friends.

I like waiting tables a lot. Really. When I'm not overscheduled, it makes me happy to be able to go in there and make some extra money. I've made $340 over the last two shifts, on Saturday night and Sunday night. Add $125 on Valentine's Day, and I've nearly made rent for the month. Heck, after tonight, when I'll have worked my 4th night out of 5, I'll have made more money than I do in one week of teaching. Plus, I've been there so long that I have a lot of freedom and plenty of sway, and that's nice as well.

But I'm tired. I realized on Friday night that almost all of my current friends know me only as a guy with two jobs, the guy who works way too much. I've been there nearly five years, so only friends from way back in the day know me as someone with a consistent social life. I turned down what could have been a pretty cool date on Saturday night because I had to work. And I'm actively pissed off that I'm working tonight, as I've just been there way too much in the last four days as it is. I'm not supposed to be working during the week, but because of the resignation of the aforementioned server, and apparently my off-day from teaching today, I guess they figure I can do it.

I'm just tired. I'll have had one day off - Election Day - by the end of February. That's just not enough.

So, once again, I'm wondering how long I'll do this. I'm sure I'll feel better about it in a couple of weeks, when hopefully some folks are hired and they're relying on me for 1-2 days a week rather than 3-4. Next year, with a Master's degree and a $7,000 raise, I'm almost certain I won't be doing the second job. But will I last until September? I like working there in the summer, but the pay is terrible; no one eats there then. Maybe it's best to cut ties before then. We'll see what happens. My friends are probably as tired as my readers over hearing me contemplate this. It just seems like quitting is signaling that I really don't care about making extra money, which isn't something I want to signal. And, often, when I feel most like it, they at the restaurant tend to ease back on the hours, which just makes me wonder why I would even consider quitting. So we'll see. I might not be the Hardest Working Man in Baltimore much longer.

Recapping Season 4 of The Wire

In a marathon that screwed up my sleep schedule for the rest of the week, I finally finished Season 4 of The Wire the other night.

I have so many thoughts about it, almost all positive. I think the high point of the season was the one I blogged about a couple of entries ago, when Michael walks that inevitable descent into charred adulthood. The rest of the season almost felt like falling action after that climactic moment, but maybe because I just felt like Michael was the soul of the season. My colleagues at work disagreed - they saw Randy as the central character. I hear he's returned in Season 5, and look forward to seeing how he's ended up. When Randy is dropped off at the group home, I felt a pang of remorse for the real kids I know who have been in and out of group homes. Randy's home seemed a much nicer one than the one the kid I wish I could adopt has been put in this month. The soundless scene in which Carver beats his car horn after realizing he can't do more for Randy was just stunningly powerful to me.

I loved how the show portrayed well-intentioned and hard-working adults in the Baltimore Public Schools system, a system that still manages to chew up kids and spit them out. The show's portrayal was fair: the BCPSS is an underfunded system that wants to do more for its kids; on the other hand, any attempts at creativity and thinking outside the box are usually shot down because of public relations concerns. The teaching to the test certainly rang true - it's something I was pressured to do much of last year, and the ridiculous, ill-planned benchmarks we still get this year are further evidence for an over-emphasis on testing instead of learning. I loved descriptions of North Avenue as the "Puzzle Palace," and, of course, the line, "He just went out on a limb for you, and this system knows how to handle a chainsaw." That being said, I've never heard of turning up the heat to make the kids drowsy (indeed, I doubt our old boiler room would respond to much of anything besides random working).

Duqain and Namond, you never would have imagined they ended up where they did at the end of the season. I loved the trajectory of the character of Namond, and Dookie just broke my heart. I've never heard of the system sending students up to high school in the middle of the school year, and hope it doesn't really happen; Dookie's resolution would seem to be commonplace if it did. Kids already have a huge detachment issue with middle school - several of my 9th grade students still visit their middle school teachers all the time - and pulling the rug from under them in the middle of a school year seems cruel. Not that it's beyond the system.

Honestly, I found the Carcetti campaign somewhat interesting, but the connections to O'Malley just seemed too obvious to me. I'm not sure if The Wire stepped outside of reality enough to examine it. I mean, when Erhlich showed up as a guard in Annapolis, I just thought Simon was banging us over the head with the similarities.

I wished we had gotten to know the teachers better. We see the intriguing lives of the cops, but I wanted more than just the one scene of Prez at home. I wanted to know more about that tough lady who all the kids were scared of, or about that awesome Assistant Principal (the type of AP I've never had and always wanted).

Now, I might have a chance to go watch all the episodes of The Wire on demand at someone's house, and then get the only experience of my life of being able to watch this great novel of a television show live, and engage in the water cooler conversations that go with that. I'm wondering if it's worth it, though. Watching the television show alone, figuring it all out on my own, has been a really rewarding experience, and I may want to stick with it. We'll see.

Hour-long delays and three-day suspensions

I have had a rockstar few days in teaching. My lessons are well-planned, and, even when they're not (like today... I had to improvise because of the low attendance from the delay), they go smoothly. Except for my 4/5th period class. I had a miserable day with them on Monday, so much so that I wrote six detentions in one class period. One boy refused to sign his detention after refusing to move his desk, then refused to stop after I put him in the hallway to talk with him. He walked away, ignoring me, and was basically truant for the rest of the period. That sort of blatant insubordination has become more and more commonplace, unfortunately, and referrals are not generally addressed.

Therefore, I'm left to administering discipline myself. In this case, it is a three-day suspension from my classroom. When the kid came bouncing and dancing
into my room today, grinning and laughing, I had a desk ready for him in the hallways. It actually worked really well; this kid, who is a constant distraction to his classmates, got some individual attention from me as I poked my head out the door, while the class didn't suffer from his clowning. And by Friday, he'll be begging to come back. I hope.

***

And, by the way, an hour delay really sucked. I had three students there when first period started. The roads were bad, but the parking lot was dangerous. I almost fell and several kids did. To hear that the county got the day called off is pretty disheartening; they have their own busses and, for my knowledge, kids don't take 110-minute bus rides to get to school in the morning (I just found out one of my kids gets on the bus every morning at 6:20am).

So, an hour delay? Pretty worthless. It put all the school commute at the same time as the work commute, so traffic was bumper to bumper and kids came late. And everything wasn't salted like it should have been. We were joking that tomorrow, maybe they'd give us half an hour delay.

***

I'm finishing Season 4 tonight. I can't turn it off.

Getting through The Wire

Season 4, Episode 9

The episode ends with Michael going to talk with Marlo about the man at his house. Michael walks to the park along with Dukie, and they share a look, and then Michael continues on. He's leaving childhood behind. The only dialogue is Michael asking Marlo for help. The reset of the scene is shown through Omar's eyes, from a distance. "He's just a kid," he mutters, and we get the feeling that a similar scene took place with him, 20 years before. And the cycle continues.

That scene was so brilliant that I'm out of breath.

The kid playing Michael - so good.

The previous episode I saw of Season 4 was a disappointment. I think I know why - the actress playing Zenobia is awful, at least in her earlier episodes. When she throws the books on the ground after Prez-Bo gives his pencil to her, it's a horribly fake scene. The class was too small, too. But only in isolation. Subsequent scenes have been searingly authentic; it's the most accurate depiction of urban public schools I've ever seen.

Election Day

Stolen from Andrew Sullivan...

This is probably a little late coming on Election Day, but this 20-minute presentation is really interesting, and does a good job of summing up why I'm supporting Barack Obama for President instead of Hillary Clinton. They are two candidates with similar positions on many issues, but Obama comes across as having a much stronger moral compass.



Also, one of the current criticisms of the Obama campaign is that it is a campaign of shallowness, that voters like the way he sounds and looks so they're voting for him because it makes them feel good. While I'm sure you can find members of the electorate of any politician who vote for their candidate because of shallow reasons, I don't think this is the majority. I love this video, of a seemingly goofy college kid, who slowly wins over a skeptical, conservative interviewer with his reason over sentiment:



Also, I love this - if you haven't seen it, do yourself a favor and see it:



I cast my vote at around 11:30am, after unexpectedly sleeping in and then doing some laundry. My polling place was - as usual - without crowds and very efficient. I'll be at Rosencratz and Gildenstern Are Dead tonight so will be unable to watch the returns, but look forward to catching them on the news tonight.

Obama in Baltimore

Just got back from seeing Obama here in Baltimore.

Seeing him live is better than seeing him on television - the energy and enthusiasm is contagious.

The Baltimore Arena wasn't quite filled up, but I heard they stopped letting people in at 13,000. The floor and first and second levels were all full. I heard there were 28,000 at University of Maryland earlier in the day.

Obama's stump speech has changed a little bit since Iowa, and is a little bit less angry than it was in South Carolina, but the basic thesis of hope and non-partisanship are the same. He inspired a solid round of applause for John McCain, shooting down the few naysayers who booed when his name was mentioned, saying he was an American hero and deserves applause for his "half century of service to this nation" (He's casting the election as old vs. new just like between he and HRC). He then went on to say that McCain supported Bush's disastrous economic policies and brought up the 100 years in Iraq comment.

Elijah Cummings - another great speaker - introduced him. We're all hoping Obama wins here in MD by more than he won in even South Carolina. I expect him to get 60-65% of the vote tomorrow.

We were able to get about 150 kids down there from our high school. Most made it on their own, cutting their last two classes and taking the city buses. For some 9th graders, we spent most of the day securing parent permissions (we found out over the weekend, so couldn't plan in advance) and jumping through silly legality hoops. I just dropped the last girl off on the other side of the city. Most were really into it, and when Obama got to the part of the speech where he talked about teachers shouldn't have to work two jobs to make ends meet, my kids started chanting my name. It was real funny. A few who got down on the floor got to shake his hand.

Yes, I'm really inspired and expect to cast my vote before 8am.

"He just went out on a limb for you, and this system knows how to handle a chainsaw."

A quick drill the other day was having students go through the chapters of A Lesson Before Dying (all unnamed), and finding a key line that encapsulates the entire chapter and gives it a title. Much like my favorite television show. Then, students justify their choices. It was fun, and the kids were into it, and The Wire totally inspired it.

I'm on Season four, episode five. I would have named this episode the title of this entry.

A girl in my second period is an extra and I see her in every classroom scene! Not to mention Sherrod, who I see hamming it up in the hallways every day!

The "Look For"'s

Every now and then, we receive word that so-and-so will be in the building. It'll be someone from some place that matters. Someone who - if we don't look good - will get the bosses at the school in trouble.

Friday was one of those days. My department head came into class during first period, interrupting me, to tell me that so-and-so would be in the building at around one o'clock.

This is supposed to be a signal to me to get the interior decorating in line. Are the crappy photocopies of the core learning goals of the state somewhere to be found? Do I have classroom rules up? Am I stating my goals and indicators for the day?

Because in this system, good teaching isn't about connecting with the kids, or providing rigorous instruction. It's about the "look-for"'s - the things that someone who is above the teacher on the educational totem pole can see posted in his classroom or written on his chalkboard. If the "look-for"'s are up, then everyone can pat themselves on the back and congratulate themselves on doing a good job.

The key is to make your objectives as vague as possible, so you can spend the time actually concentrating on constructing the lessons - not what's on the chalkboard. Throw in the state standards for good measure, maybe even memorize a couple. Another key is to put the core goals up somewhere on the first day of the school year, so they're always there to point out if asked. Then, you are a great teacher.

This year, I decided to add my bit of civil protest to the visit. I posted a sign outside my door stating my class size of every class (average of 34, including all the way up to 37), and my class load (167 students). I worded it in a positive manner, and was not the first in my department to do it; it was sort of an unofficial protest by several members of the department. We are down 2-and-a-half English teachers from just two years ago, and class sizes have skyrocketed, and people should know.

Then, no one showed up. We often have false alarms about "visits," and it's amusing and disconcerting to see the higher-ups get flustered about it. Lots of learning is happening in my classroom (especially last week... what a week!), and, frankly, I'm not worried about someone visiting it. I actually like people in my classroom; I want them to see what we're doing. But no go this time.

Baltimore happenings

1. The Eric Bedard trade has a chance to be one of the great trades of baseball history for the Orioles. Five for one, including Adam Jones - that's a great pull for a pitcher who never pitched 200 innings. I'm actually excited to be an Orioles fan this year. I love a team full of young guys eager to prove themselves. They'll probably lose 100 games (like the 2003 Tigers), but it's better to lose 100 with young guys with a chance to get better than to lose 90 with mediocre veterans. With Adam Jones and Nick Markakis in the outfield, there's an anchor for a great team in the future. I hope they get that Brian Roberts trade worked out now. I know they're holding out for Felix Pie, but I'd do the deal for Matt Murton and Sean Marshall.

2. Barack Obama is coming to Baltimore on Monday. It's one of those days when I'm really happy to have last period planning. My department head has already told me she'd cover my 10th period, as well. I'd like to bring a few kids, but am not sure if that'll happen. I wonder where I should park? I wonder how quickly it'll fill up?

No Education, No Life goes to Annapolis

I just feel so inspired when I see the Algebra Project do their stuff. It makes me want to turn this blog into an all-out attack on educational injustice in this city, or an attack on the injustice to our children (Mike, given up by his mother, and then his great aunt, and now in a group home, and one of the brightest, nicest kids you'll meet, didn't show up to school today. I feel like I'm watching him on the train tracks, and the train of Baltimore is going to run him over unless I do something, and I don't know what to do. Please keep him in your thoughts.). But I don't really think I have it in me. I'm just not angry enough, or brave enough.

Anyhow, I can spread the word, though:

The man being arrested below is a parent of one of my favorite students over the last few years. I see him at the Y all the time; we both tend to work out during the 6am-7am hour. His son, who I taught as a 9th grader and an 11th grader and is now a senior, is lying on the left.




Here is his son, below. The newspaper didn't get his name or his school, which is a good thing - it makes me feel okay putting this linked photo here.




I taught this kid below last year. He is so polite; he shakes my hand and calls me "Sir." It took him a while before he realized that he couldn't charm me into a good grade, that he actually had to work. He got it, eventually. I think he's trying out for baseball this year. I can't believe he was arrested; I wonder how his mom reacted. We had each other's numbers programmed in each other's phones last year. I'm pretty proud that he's taken up this cause; he's a charismatic, well-spoken kid, and it wouldn't surprise me at all to see him enter politics.



This is a good description of what the Algebra Project does, from Sun reporter Sara Neufeld (via the Inside Ed blog:

The Algebra Project is a civil rights organization. Its members believe that education is the fundamental civil rights issue of our time. Its slogan is "No Education, No Life" because members believe that when our society fails to provide children with an adequate education, it's equivalent to giving them a death sentence. For years, the Algebra Project has been involved in a lawsuit charging the state with unlawfully underfunding Baltimore's schools. Its members have taken officials to task for failing to comply with a court ruling that found the state had unlawfully underfunded the city schools by $400 million to $800 million between 2000 and 2004. The group estimates that, by now, the state owes the school system at least $1 billion.

Making matters worse, Gov. Martin O'Malley -- who as mayor met with the Algebra Project and supported its quest for more state funding -- has now frozen the inflationary increases provided to school systems under the Thornton legislation (a statewide education funding initiative that grew out of the school funding lawsuit in the city). In Baltimore, that freeze will amount to a $50 million budget shortfall for next school year.

So all that was reason enough to protest. And then last month, Zachariah Hallback -- an 18-year-old Algebra Project member who had planned on participating in the "die-in" today -- was murdered, the victim of a foiled robbery attempt. To his Algebra Project colleagues, his death represented exactly why they are fighting, because when young people don't get a decent education, it's all too easy for them to turn to a life of crime instead.

Charlie Brown Day

I've been working out - running, throwing, push-uping - with the guys for the last couple of weeks on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and it's kicking my butt a bit. I'm not bad when I'm there, but when I head to the gym (either in the mornings or evenings), I can barely get through my workout. I guess I'm gaining some stamina.

Today was a total Charlie Brown day for me. At lunch, my frozen lean cuisine turned upside, and my co-work shook her head at me and said, "Oh, Charlie Brown." Then came the real fun: grad school. I thought grad school started at 5:30, but actually it started at 5:15. I showed up to class at 5:31, and without a pen. The professor was nice, and but walking in that late to a class small-group meeting (only six people in the classroom) was embarassing enough. Then, a few minutes later, I spilled my drink. And it wasn't even an adult drink like Sobe or Diet Pepsi. It was Monster Energy Drink (I sometimes drink the sugar-free version for a pick-me-up). It created this large flourescent red spill under my desk, so I had to excuse myself to clean it up with some paper towel. I made a big scene.

The class ended at 6:05. I came 16 minutes late, and created a big scene while I was there. Yes, I total Charlie Brown day.

Speaking of The Peanuts, I want to get another tattoo. I think this is pretty cool, though I don't think I'd ever do it:



I love the first one, which is two years old this month. Unfortunately, it's no longer the color it is here, but rather a light blue. I think I want to get it darkened/touched up.

The woman who taught me how to teach

A little over six years ago, I was a struggling first year teacher. My department head was an interim department head, in between jobs as Advanced Studies coordinator and Assistant Principal. She wasn't around that much and because there was only one other new teacher (who, oddly enough, I also saw for the first time in a long time, this weekend at the restaurant. She's very pregnant and entering medical school after she has the baby). As a first year teacher, I was terrible - I believe a line in my first evaluation from her read something like, "It is clear that the students did not learn the teacher's stated objectives." However, she took me under her wing a bit. I remember one moment so clearly. She came into my classroom, took my lesson, and taught it to my kids. It was an eye-opening experience, seeing her manage a classroom of little hellions while still providing opportunities for lots of higher-level thinking. That was a huge turning point in my career. Second semester, I got a whole new batch of kids, and I was well on my way to doing a good job with them.

Today, she came to visit the school. She has had a job at North Avenue for a few years, and I don't see her much. She stepped into my classroom - a particularly squirrely group of 9th graders - and stayed about five minutes. She waved, she smiled, she whispered "good questions" in my ear. I found her afterwards and gave her a big hug. I didn't tell her that I look back at that moment she stood in front of my classroom as a turning point in my career, that she probably saved my career (at least at that school), but someday I might.

***

Super Tuesday has lived up to its name, but I've got to hit the sack. I wrote my essay for grad school tomorrow, planned my lesson, and pretty much stayed entirely busy until 11pm.

Sad news

"Mike" is now living in a group room just north of Moravia, off of Bel-Air. He lives with six other juveniles with nowhere else to go. But Mike is the only one who goes to school. It's not fair. I wish I knew what to do to help him.

Marc Steiner Show cancelled

Well, I hope there is a huge public outcry about this: the ousting of Marc Steiner from WYPR.

I listen to WYPR all the time, and have always considered Steiner the soul of the channel. His program, between 12 and 2 every day, focuses on education issues a great deal, making Steiner feel like a voice for the teachers of the city. I've always found his quirky style endearing and intelligent; he really listened to his guests, really prepared well for his shows. Most importantly, he cares a great deal about Baltimore. I feel like I got to know Baltimore through his show. (I was thrilled when, last week, I saw him for the first time, moderating the Coynes/Carcetti debate on Season 4 of The Wire.)

I hope he lands on his feet somewhere.

I wonder how much the emergence of the Ed Norris Show led to this departure. While the Norris show is much more erratic and probably more biased (Steiner was admittedly liberal, while Norris is pretty conservative), it also has a fine ear for Baltimore and its issues. They air at the same time, and often I had to choose between the two. I wonder if that had something to do with his listenership loss. Though, according to the article above, the ousting had more to do with personality conflicts than ratings. This wouldn't surprise me.

I wonder where he'll end up.

So, the surprise concert was John Gorka, and the concert was over in Westminster. Good stuff.

Surprise concert

For a few years now, my friend and I have had an agreement to surprise the other with a concert every now and then. Back in November, I surprised him with Suzanne Vega; he didn't figure it out until we showed up at the parking lot of the Birchmere in Alexandra, VA. Tonight, it's my turn. I didn't get excited until this morning, but now I'm really wanting to do a little googling and peek and what it could be - the list of area venues we might travel to isn't that extensive. But, I will resist and be surprised.

I've been hankering for live music big time ever since I missed Lupe Fiasco at Sonar last Sunday. It would have been my first hip-hop concert, but I just couldn't justify the money and giving up my usual lucrative Sunday night shift.

yes we can

Failing kids

Here's the situation:

I asked one of my former students - a brilliant writer and a great kid - for an old copy of an essay he wrote for my class, so I could show my current Juniors a model for how an essay should be written. He happily agrees, and sends the essay to me over email. I'm thrilled, because now I not only have a model, but I have a good one. I asked a few other kids to do the same, and they all did.

However, I notice something while going over the essay that troubles me. This isn't up to his usual par. The conclusion is clunky and overly literal. My colleague, who also worked with him on the final draft of the essay (mine was drafts #1-3), also noticed it. We both kicked ourselves for not noticing it sooner, and were annoyed at ourselves for passing it along and patting him on the back. He can do better. While the language is beautiful and smooth, evidence well-chosen and analyzed, he's not quite saying enough, at least at the end.

I decide to email him about it. It's not too late to make changes before the essay is submitted to the external scorers. His reply is a several-paragraph letter, saying he was upset to be getting the feedback so late and disappointed that I had been easy on him. He said he had a feeling in his gut that the essay wasn't good, and that he was looking to me for guidance, but when I gave it an "A" he decided to go along with it as is. He is disappointed in me.

The letter stung, probably because he was right. Sometimes, when I have a great student, I'm sure I'm guilty of the halo effect. I'm so happy that he's putting an argument together with well-crafted sentences that I move along to concentrate on the girl who doesn't have a topic yet, or the boy who struggles with subject/verb agreement. It isn't fair.

It's not the only reason. I've often looked back at papers I've graded in the past and was surprised by how easy I was then. I've done the same with my writing. The lens of time changes perceptions. I'm sure it did with this essay, a bit. I've also developed new ideas for teaching conclusions, and that surely changed how I looked at the essay.

But the reality remains that I failed this kid in a way. And I'm sad about it.