Universe As Text

 Even with the huge variety of options that one has as an English teacher, it can still be hard to come up with ways of teaching that can shake adolescents out of their “I don’t care” coma. I mean, let’s be honest: most high school students are far more concerned with showing off and meeting new people than they are concerned about discussing literature. But wait! What if those two were one and the same? Now we’re getting somewhere.

This past October, at the WCTE State Convention, I attended a session that was given by two of my colleagues: “City Mouse Meets Country Mouse, or How Technology Brought our Classrooms Together.” The presentation gave highlights from a really unique collaboration between an urban teacher and a rural teacher in the same state. Both teachers had the same grade level, and one of the same texts. So, they decided to teach it together. They met ahead of time and “synched” their unit so that the same lessons would be taught on the same day to their respective classes. But the most important part of the unit was online book discussion, facilitated by the teachers through Goodreads.com, a social networking site built around books. With a private “room” just for these two schools, students from the city were able to offer their insights on the book, and the rural students could then respond, eventually branching out into full-blown, academic discussion between kids from totally different walks of life. I loved this idea for several reasons: (1) It was just plain cool, (2) It involved teacher collaboration, which I’ve wanted to learn more about, and (3) It gave the students exposure to some new faces, expanding not only their literary horizons, but their social ones as well. We all need to understand each other better, and it starts with common ground. When that common ground is a book, it breathes new life into the idea of  “required reading.”

I was dying to try this in my own classroom, but I wasn’t sure who to collaborate with. I really wanted to expose my students to another class outside of Milwaukee, somewhere that would expand their understanding of the world beyond their own backyard. Most of my friends teach in the city, so I tried to open my brain. Who did I know that taught somewhere… else? Then, it hit me. Of course! My cousin, about 7 years older than I, teaches English at a high school in rural Oregon. Now that’s  far away. I shot off an email, and, lo and behold, she teaches seniors, too. And she liked the collaboration idea.

Over winter break, after Grandma’s delicious Christmas dinner, Ms. W. and I were able to sit down on the couch together, face to face, and create an initial to-do list for a collaborative unit on Zora Neal-Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God.  While we still have a couple months of preparation ahead, the cogs are turning and it’s looking like we’re going to be connecting kids not just between a rural setting and an urban one, but over whole regions of the country. I am so excited to give my students the opportunity to discuss a text with some new faces–ones that will seem different at first, but that will inevitably become familiar as they explore the text with other kids all the way across the nation. Wish us luck! You’ll hear more when the unit comes ’round.

As a teacher who is always trying to be innovative, creative, and just plain “not boring,” I try a lot of different types of lessons with my students. As a new teacher, I have a lot of lesson attempts that need fine-tuning, and a handful of utter flops. However, there is one strategy when it comes to literature lessons that–even in my short experience–has never let me down. It works with practically any fictional text and any age group. This strategy (which I definitely am not the first to come up with) is character letters.

In a character letter assignment, students write a letter to a character, usually for a very specific purpose. I think the secret of this assignment’s vast success lies in the fact that it’s very entertaining for students, yet very informative for the teacher. As I inspect textual references, tone, and reactions in their writing, I can tell quite a bit about how my students are understanding and interacting with their reading. Also, the products are often hilarious and spot-on.  Let me tell you just a little bit about how I’ve used this teaching method.

Variations: Students can write in their own voice to a character, or from one character to another. You can assign student pairs to write to each other and respond back, still in their character roles. You can have students, individually or in pairs, create an instant message conversation between characters (they have a great time creating screennames and such). Students can read examples aloud to the class, while others try to guess which character is speaking and who’s being addressed. You can have students write diary entries in the voice of a character. The list goes on. Basically, the goal is to create an assignment that asks students to assume the role of a character and to react to that character and others as if they were real people. You’ll be surprised at the strength of emotion that quickly surfaces!

Examples: Here are some concrete examples of character letter assignments that my students have tried.

*Beloved. Write a letter from one character that lives in House 124 to another that also resides in the house. This should be a letter of apology or one that reveals a previously hidden emotion. Refer to at least one specific incident from the text. Your letter should be written so that it would be given to the recipient directly after this event.

*Hamlet. While examining the tragic form, we’ve learned that tragic heroes have a flaw that leads them to their doom. So what’s Hamlet’s problem? We’ve all been in the situation where we see a friend making some bad decisions that could create even worse consequences. Write a letter to Hamlet, telling him what he’s done wrong, and what might happen if he doesn’t set it right.

*The Pearl. We don’t see our protagonists say much to each other throughout the story. What would they say if they had the time? In pairs, assign one person to assume the role of Juana and one person to assume the role of Kino. Write a letter as your character to the other, explaining everything you want to say. Once done, exchange with your partner. Keeping yourself in character, write a response to what he or she has written.

*Pride and Prejudice. While most of the verbal sparring we see in the book takes place via conversation or letters, if Elizabeth were alive today, it’s likely she’d find a lot of her drama online. Pick any character from the novel and write an email from this character to another. This should be a serious message of at least two paragraphs. Please feel free to use modern English and online abbreviations to create a message that stays true to the way the characters interact in the novel.

Try it! As you can probably already tell, there are tons of different ways to transform this assignment type to your purposes. Try it out, and you’ll likely be delighted at the entertaining, heartfelt, and shockingly accurate character portrayals that your students create. Whether you’re working it into a complex unit plan, or just need something new to keep your kids on their toes, character letters are an awesome way to go.

I just finished a successful, intriguing, enjoyable unit with my writing lab class, and I’m just busting to share a little bit about the experience, how and why we did it, and the results.

It all began near the end of the persuasive essay unit, when I was glancing ahead to see what else I had scheduled for my writing lab kids. As I perused the syllabus, my eyes swept over the answer: expository writing. I groaned a little inside. We were just wrapping up a research-heavy, academic jargon-heavy, crisp logic-heavy writing project. The thought of assigning some boring, report-like paper about facts seemed just a little too dull for this particular group. [Background: My writing lab kids are my absolute favorite class. They're a mixture of English fail-outs, aspiring authors, English language learners, and "I just took this class for the heck of it" misfits. Coming from grades 10-12, they are a peaceful, curious group who will follow me pretty much wherever I ask them to go as writers. And many of them have major talent. I knew something else was in order.]

So, I created a Writer-Interest Survey with loads of different options for them to pick from for their next unit. We discussed, debated, voted, and debated some more. In the end, screenplay writing (you know, writing scripts for movies) was the clear winner. They really wanted to write their own short film scripts. So I said, “Ok. On Monday, we’ll start learning how to write screenplays.”  Having absolutely no idea how to teach screenplay writing, I knew I had a weekend of research ahead of me. I was blessed enough to stumble upon three fantastic teaching resources for screenplay writing. Using them as my scaffold, I went to town on planning a five-week screenplay unit.

RESOURCE ONE: Good ol’ Google. As it turns out, if you simply type the title of your favorite major motion picture along with the word “screenplay” after it, you can find the full script for most movies out there. [My search query was "Jurassic Park screenplay.] There are many online databases devoted wholly to collecting and making available screenplays that have seen success. Of course, you have to wade through these to find quality samples, since many of these screenplays are reproduced by amateurs. However, when you find a good one, it’s an invaluable resource, especially if you can pair it with the actual film clip.

RESOURCE TWO: Script Frenzy Young Writer’s Program. I discovered something wonderful in my quest for screenplay tips, and that’s Script Frenzy. Apparently, this program is open to all who wish to participate–it’s a challenge to write a complete, 100 page screenplay in the month of April. This is a challenge for adults (more specifically, crazy adults), but there also happens to be a modified program for students that’s accessible all year round, including a complete workbook with really nice teaching supplements. I can’t say enough about how awesome this completely free resource is. Here are two links to get you started:

Click for SCREENPLAY FORMATTING

Click for SCREENPLAY WORKBOOK (HIGH SCHOOL LEVEL)

RESOURCE THREE: Make your own Movie Poster! I also happened upon a fantastic movie poster generator on the web that allowed my kids to create super-cool, authentic looking promotional posters for their screenplays. You have to fiddle around a little bit to get the best results, and only .jpg files can be loaded as the main image, but once those two things are out of the way, students can come up with amazing results. Particularly when they take their own photo with a digital camera or scan in original artwork, the final result looks great. Here’s a sample poster I’ve made for your viewing pleasure… Click on the image for full-view.

Cool, huh? Try it by clicking HERE for the movie poster generator.

As the unit went on, we did all kinds of cool things: character development, realistic dialogue, avoiding cliches, identifying and blending genres, using media skills, applying a specific formatting style, how to construct a satisfying plot, time management, mimicking masters, finding inspiration, and action writing. And the students loved it. Whether they were penning comedies or psychological thrillers, they were all quite “into” their stories. Last weekend I had literally an armful of pages to take home–almost every student had met my daunting ten-page requirement. One boy even made a full-length, amazingly artistic trailer for his film. Some of my favorite film concepts were:

*A crochety old man, denied a discount at McDonald’s, seeks revenge by patronizing other various fast food establishments.

*An imprisoned man develops a close relationship with a fellow inmate as they attempt to make a jailbreak.

*The ghost of a teenager tries to come back to the living world, but only one friend can see him.

*A man struggling with mental illness decides to live his life through the identity of a deceased friend from childhood.

*An exchange student simply can’t handle the irritating antics of his host family.

Once again, I have had proven to me the fact that when students are doing something that they are interested in, they outperform even the highest expectations. During this unit, I wished I was in my own class so that I could do the project. It was so touching to watch them excitedly buzz around each other’s writing, asking “What are you gonna put next?” or “You know what I can picture here? Let me tell you…”  Next time I teach this unit, I might work in an actual film component as well. I highly, highly recommend trying out some screenplay writing. It may not be a very traditional thing to teach, but it makes reaching the state language arts standards as easy and light as a song.

P.s. If you’re in the Milwaukee area, Collaborative Cinema is another cool opportunity related to screenwriting. We had a guest speaker come in from this program, and he was great.

I’ve been teaching a unit with my seventh graders based on Mildred D. Taylor’s novel, Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry. As I previewed the book, I found myself recoiling from the harsh depictions of racist violence, which are very true to what really went on in Mississippi in the 1930’s, ’40’s, and ’50’s. I wondered if my classroom–a racially disparate group of 12 year-olds–would be able to handle it. I’m not sure what I was so afraid of… I guess I felt like reading about those events really hurt me, and so perhaps it would hurt them, especially if they didn’t have the maturity to understand it. I was feeling similar to a group of parents who wanted to censor the book back in 2004, saying the content was too mature and disturbing for middle schoolers to be exposed to.

But then a little bell rang in my head. Why was I trying to shield these kids from the truth of what happened in history? If I did so, wasn’t I just playing accomplice to the thousands of sugared-over history textbook editions that have lain, guilty, in classrooms across the nation for decades? If I was nervous to talk so directly about racism in my classroom, with black kids and white kids, Latinos and Hmong, wasn’t that my own little contribution to racial tension in our own society? After this mental tug-of-war, I convinced myself that I would tackle it, and after an introductory explanation about the need for grown-up behavior, sensitivity, and reverence, we plunged in headfirst.

Best move ever. The responses from studying this novel have been the most heartfelt, complex, and complete responses I’ve gotten from my seventh grade. Not that it’s been without pain–for instance, when I was explaining how tar-and-feathering was a humiliating and excruciating “punishment” that whites inflicted on blacks for the most minor offenses, I was interrupted mid-sentence by a cocoa-faced, curly-haired girl with watery eyes: “But why would someone do that? Why would anybody ever think that was ok? What made them think that wasn’t wrong? It’s wrong!”  The only answer I could give her was, “I wish I knew the answer myself. To be honest, I really don’t know where racism or hate of any kind comes from. But it’s bad, bad, news and it’s really hurtful, isn’t it?”

One of the most interesting  lessons we did involved using poetry to talk about how race interactions were more complicated than simply pitting whites against blacks. For this activity, we analyzed Jeremy’s friendship with the Logan children by connecting it with Countee Cullen’s “Tableau,” which I’ll post here–

 TABLEAU

Locked arm in arm they cross the way/The black boy and the white

The golden splendor of the day/The sable pride of night

From lowered blinds the dark folk stare/And here the fair folk talk

Indignant that the two should dare/In unison to walk

Oblivious to look and word/They pass, and see no wonder

That lightning brilliant as a sword/Should blaze the path of thunder.

Here are a few of my favorite student responses to the poem:

I say what happened in the poem was two kids (black and white) fighting against racism. They were signaling out that skin color does not effect a person’s feelings. And when the lightning struck and cut through the segregation, it burned all thoughts of hatred and led people to think. If God made different races for a reason of hope, why was it used as a reason for bad individuality, segregation, and downputting of someone of another skin type or race? All races form the reason of life. People, living, and being are the cause of the new age. In Roll of Thunder, segregation was at full cruelty. But every action has its own special consequence.

I love this poem because I think it is so true about white kids and black kids becoming friends, without anybody having the right to say anything. Countee Cullen is impressing with this poem. He’s awesome!!

I see hope in the poem where they don’t care what people are thinking about them. I think that it would be unfair if we couldn’t hang out with someone because of their race or their religion. It’s unfair to judge people because of the color of their skin and it’s rude and cruel.

I think the poem is trying to say “don’t care about what people think.” If you think or know what you are doing, have trust in yourself and go for it. They are trying to tell us even when it is hard, don’t give up because we’ve come a long, long way just to give up. In the book, the blacks are going through hard times. A couple nice white people are trying to help them go through that and say something like, “What is the difference between us?” but without words.

I’ll end this post with the wisdom of Mildred D. Taylor herself, in her response to the attempted censorship of her novel. Here’s a quote from her, courtesy of the National Coalition Against Censorship website:

“As a parent, I understand not wanting a child to hear painful words,” Taylor wrote. “But also as a parent I do not understand trying to prevent a child from learning about a history that is part of America… I must be true to the stories told.”

Thank you, Ms. Taylor, for reminding us that we have to look the world straight in the eye in order to form our own opinions of it. Even if we’re twelve years old.

P.s. Every day, I am greeted at the door by a different child that whispers to me, “Ms. H, can I read first today?” 

This morning, I had the honor of presenting a sectional at the 2009 Wisconsin Council of Teacher of English Convention in Milwaukee, WI.

Please click to view the following resources from the session:

Handout with lesson directions and notes

Powerpoint Presentation

My presentation included discussion about two bits of pedagogical theory–(1) teaching grammar in the context of writing and (2) using visual arts in the teaching of writing. For me, finding practical applications of these theories can sometimes be challenging, so I demonstrated a lesson that I use in my persuasive writing unit which integrates both of these theories into actual practice. It’s a really great lesson that middle school AND high school students enjoy and that is exciting to teach. It makes grammar fun! But even better, it produces sophisticated student writing in the end. The participants in my workshop had a chance to try out the activity for themselves, and then to discuss the experience and offer ideas about how this lesson (or those similar to it) can work in the classroom. Some of the cool suggestions generated by this discussion included:

-Using a picture as a starting point for a follow-up lesson, where students view the image and generate an accompanying sentence.

-Displaying posters side by side with formal persuasive essays.

-Tying visual elements into descriptive writing, asking students to describe a photo or illustrate a written description.

-Creating a unit around punctuation, with the unifying idea of a punctuation “map” that could be displayed in the room with “paths to good writing” that would feature various punctuation marks as X-marks-the-spot symbols on the map.

I was so excited to have this chance to present one of my ideas and to hear those of others. My room was pleasantly overflowing with knowledge: there were pre-service educators, other first-year teachers, experienced and veteran teachers, and post-secondary teachers in attendance.  It was my absolute pleasure to serve as the leader for a great activity and discussion. Many thanks to all that were there! It was an incredible day for me–I was recognized as the WCTE 2009 Outstanding Student Teacher and gave a successful workshop for my colleagues! It doesn’t get much better than that.

Do you need more ideas about how to utilize grammar in context, visual arts, or BOTH into real life teaching? Check out the last two slides of my Powerpoint for my list, and share your own by leaving a comment and continuing the conversation!

Please share by leaving a comment.

I’m always on the search for visual aids to help exemplify those super-abstract concepts that we encounter in language arts. Like a gift from above, this idea came to me over the weekend. I used it with my 12th grade class today, and it seemed to work pretty well… Success!

The goal: Visually portray what it means to conduct a literary analysis. I’ve been teaching my students how to analyze a text, through a kind of mental excavation process… identifying elements, paying attention to how language works, going as deep as possible into the implications of the author’s choices in order to discover the thread of meaning that’s interwoven within. But that’s a lot of big words. So how do I make what I’m asking for clearer? This is what I came up with.

First I asked my students, “What is this?”

Of course, they answer–A paper ball.

Right, a paper ball. It’s fairly obvious, right? We look at this, and we see the surface. It’s round. It’s a ball. It’s made of paper. Pretty straightforward. Now I’m going to be using this as a metaphor for a text that we might want to analyze. What do we do in order to analyze something, if you think back to our discussions from earlier this week?  Take it apart. Look for deeper understanding. Look closer. Great! So let’s start taking this apart.

We’ve started our analysis, beginning to look closer and take this object apart. What do we see? Dark marks and shapes… Right! So we have started to identify some things that we see here. We think they might mean something… but what? To find out, we have to look closer.

Now what can we see? Letters! I-N-G. Ing! Yes, we now see some things that we recognize, that we can connect to. We know these elements, we know what they mean alone, and we know together that they are probably part of a greater whole. We’re almost there, but in order to find what unites this whole piece, we need to spread out all these elements for ourselves to see… So… what do we get?

This is what we’re going for. To unfold and uncover and analyze enough to get to a place where the underlying meaning of a text is clear. Now, let’s practice!

And the lesson continues.  To my surprise, my class actually seemed to get the concept more than before! And I displayed the crumpled sign as a reminder right next to the pencil sharpener.

Whatever it takes.

Behold, a nifty little graph given to me by my district mentor:

I thought this was rather entertaining, especially considering the current time of year. Apparently, I’m m0ving swiftly from survival mode into “disillusionment”, which looks like an all-time low as far as morale is concerned.

I’m pleased to say that I don’t feel anywhere near the bottom of that valley. Every day is a new chance to learn, to test my strength, and to hang out with my students. While I do submit to the idea of seasonal changes (especially losing light here in the Midwest) having a real effect on the attitudes and inspiration of people in general, I’d like to redraw this graph to a steady uphill climb. We might slip along the way, but we’re building on the progress we’ve made, and every step brings us closer to the top.

As I say so often, struggles do exist. BUT, we first year teachers that plan on staying… we have to be stronger than the statistics.

Something I stress in my teaching is teacher-student communication. From day one, I tell them to remember to speak up if they EVER need help with something, have a special need or concern, or need to let me know about what’s going on in their lives. As I tell them, I’m willing to bend over backwards to get them what they need, but I need to know what that is first. Trust and respect are two other things that I often talk about. I try to do more than “give the respect speech” but to truly demonstrate and expect a high level of respect and a willingness to trust.

When I get disillusioned, though, I sometimes start to give up on those ideals.I start to think, “Why should I care?” And that’s a dangerous thing. I was starting to feel that way a little bit last weekend, after reading some disheartening student responses–one of my seniors, Deshaun, had written two detailed poems about how much he hates my class, wishes he could be back with his former teacher, and thinks school (with the emphasis, again, on my class) is a giant waste of time.

While normally immaturity doesn’t get to me, this incident hit my heart for some reason. It made me so angry. “Why,” I asked myself, “Am I spending hours assessing these students who don’t give a damn about me or what we’re learning? What a waste of MY time.” After being miffed for a few minutes, I decided I’d take a trustful approach, and that I would tell this student honestly and openly about how I felt. I wrote him back a paragraph, where I said something to the effect of… “I’m really sorry that you dislike my class so much. I know what it’s like to be stuck in a class missing the preferred style of a former teacher. Obviously, I can never be Ms. L.  But please tell me what I can do to make English 12 bearable for you, otherwise it will be a long, l-o-n-g  year for both of us. P.s. While it might not seem like it, I do have feelings. Imagine how I feel when I’m logging hours grading papers and this is what I get. Ouch!”  While part of me felt weird being so open with a student (maybe it was more professional to just ignore it?), I really believe that one cannot teach without solid rapport or relationships. So I left it at that, and decided to hand it back to him.

On Monday morning, I ran into Deshaun as he came in to school. Having heard from another teacher that joking is a good technique to use with him, I smiled and yelled after him, “Deshaun!”

“Huh?” He said, turning around to face me. “What?”

I put my hand on my hip and cocked my head. “Why you such a hater?” I asked him.

“A hater?” He broke a small smile.

“Yeah,” I said, looking stern now, “What’s with you writing on all your assignments about how much you hate me and my class?!”

“Oh, Ms. H! I didn’t mean that stuff… I was just playin’. That’s just what I do.”

“Oh, all right,” I said, hesitantly. Then I added, “Well, just know that if you’re for real, we can talk about it.” Later that day, I handed back the anti-Ms. H poems with my note. I felt kind of silly for getting so worked up, but I still wasn’t sure if Deshaun was just trying to appease me face to face. Who knew if he would even read what I had to say.

The following morning, as class was wrapping up, I was getting some things sorted on my desk before the bell, and I heard a gentle, “Ms. H?” I looked over–no, up–to see Deshaun, with his 6′5″ frame, wide shoulders, and crazy mohawk, towering beside me.  “Yes?” I said, noticing the concerned look beaming out of his dark brown eyes.

“I just wanted you to know that when I wrote those things on my papers, I was just joking around. And I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I just like being sarcastic and playing around, but that’s my way of saying that I do like your class. Trust me, if I didn’t like you, you’d know already. So I’m sorry that I made you feel bad. I like your scarf.”

“Thanks, Deshaun,” I said, “I just wanted to make sure. I’ve been in that situation where I’m stuck in a class I hate, so I didn’t want to be responsible for making you feel that way, but I’m glad to hear that you do like the class. Thanks so much for communicating with me.” I was floored… and relieved.

Later that week, I had a “class meeting” with my seniors where I opened a Real Conversation about what we can do as a class (and what I can do as a teacher) to make this sometimes-rowdy group a more respectful, effective, and welcoming place. I thought it might be a train wreck, but instead they really responded to that opportunity. Many of them came forth with both honest frustrations and excellent suggestions, and we came to the conclusion that we’d all work harder to become “more of a family.” I was so proud of all of us, working together, like real people should, instead of going through the motions of coming and leaving by the bell, unconcerned about the interpersonal realities of a classroom. My biggest point was, “I will be real with you if you are real with me. We need to trust each other. The more I can trust you, the more freedom I can give you. Let’s get better together.”

It takes guts to be honest. But I’m proud of the fact that both my students and I are learning how to take that risk, because it really, truly pays off.

Last week I had the privilege of attending a professional development workshop as part of the PEP grant at my school. I had gone to the first session of the series last year as a student teacher, and it felt good to be back. It was so nice to have a day away from school where I could reflect more completely on my practice and think about what I do that’s successful as well as my areas for improvement.

The workshop was held in the endlessly charming Milwaukee K-12 school Golda Meir–which is an unbelievably remarkable place with, no doubt, the cutest kids in the city. (But I digress). The presentation was led by Laurie Frank, author of the book Journey Toward the Caring Classroom: Using Adventure to Create Community. [You can view an extensive preview of Laurie's book by clicking here.]  I was impressed by her warmth and wisdom.

The seminar focused on techniques and strategies for creating active, brain-based learning using constructivist teaching methods. (Quick review: constructivist means that students and teacher are working together to construct understanding, beginning from what is known and familiar, moving to the generation of ideas and products, then revealing the underlying general concept, and eventually applying that knowledge in practice…)

Much of what we talked about included things I’ve heard of before, but I was newly reminded of how important it is to design instruction that accomplishes a few very important things that are so often overlooked in teachers’ efforts to “get through the content” or even “get through the day.” Some of these important things, which I know that I need to refine, reinforce, and newly commit to are:

*Consciously and transparently building compassion, trust, and open-mindedness into classroom instruction.

*Engaging the senses, including utilizing physical movement in instruction. Allowing a controlled goofiness to occur once in a while.

*Celebrating baby steps, and allowing students to attempt a new strategy multiple times before expecting it to run smoothly.

*Teaching, practicing, and assessing procedures as well as content.

*Reinforcing instruction with hands-on, interactive activities.

*Using brain-research to inform constructivist lessons.

*Realizing that the environment, both within and outside the classroom have a significant impact on student performance.

Talking about all these things set some new teaching ideas swimming about in my head, which was wonderful! But much more wonderful was the heightened sense of commitment I began to feel. Hearing stories from many other educators from the city, I noticed that the theme running through the discussions was that of a sincere devotion to teaching, and a fierce, almost protective, zeal for giving kids the best, safest, and most enjoyable education possible. It pumped me up to get back in the classroom and keep building that community that teachers and students create, piece by piece, hour by hour.

We’ve got a lot of work to do.  Let’s get crackin’!

I love to write celebratory posts, where I focus on small successes and new ideas. But reflecting on challenges is also important, and it’s something I think I need to do more. So here are some ruminations about what I consider my biggest challenge of all–large class size.

I’ve taken to sitting at my kitchen table and saying aloud, “I am the old woman who lives in a shoe. I have so many children, I don’t know what to do.” I jest, of course, but only partially. A reality I live with: My students are vast in number. One hundred and sixty to be exact. And that’s a lot of children to have. I really feel like, if I had one more student, I might actually lose my mind.

My school is a traditional one, with eight periods of 45 minutes of instructional time, separated by four minute passing times. This “factory model” of education sweeps kids, thirty-some at a time, in my door and out at what seems like breakneck speed. Sometimes it’s very overwhelming, just to manage these large groups of young people that fill my room. I am a one person wonder, responsible for making sure everyone is present, safe, awake, engaged, inspired, and learning. And someone always needs something. At any given moment I’ve got someone needing to go to his or her locker, someone needing to go home sick, someone who needs more explanation, and someone who needs to be told to bring his or her focus back to the classroom.

My style of teaching involves a lot of conversation, a lot of individual feedback and attention. And, unfortunately, it’s not possible to commit to this natural preference completely with my giant classes. Just think–even if I spent my entire class period on individual conferencing, a class of 35 would only get 1.3 minutes of my time per student. I can’t get to everyone individually everyday. It’s just not possible.  But I wish I had more time to give.

Sometimes it blows my mind just to think that I am monitoring the progress of 160 human beings, daily, all by myself. So how do I make this crazy factory model of education work for my individualized style of teaching? Here are some things that I try to use to my advantage!

*I speak individually with as many students as I can during independent work time.

*While grading, I write conversational feedback on student assignments in order to affirm, instruct, or redirect.

*While lecturing, I involve student input as much as possible, and try to be captivating and passionate enough for each and every student to have something that catches their imagination. I try to leave nothing at the door.

*I trust that my students can fill in the gaps in instruction that I must necessarily leave. I trust them to meet me halfway.

Whenever I start to get overwhelmed or daunted by the number of students I have and the fact that time is racing ahead while I’m still trying to figure out if they “got” what we were talking about five days ago, I try to put things in perspective by asking myself this question… What is my job?

My job is not to agonize over every word my students write (or don’t write), or every single thing they know (or don’t know). My job is to place the ladder, to supply tools, to boost them up on my shoulders and say, “Here, guys. We are building something together. Here’s our schematic. Let’s get to work.” Some will build me the Taj Mahal, others might only be able to install a doorknob or two. But the point is that something more is there, when all is said and done, than was there when we started. They work with me, they work with each other, they work with themselves. Really, the energy of running the class comes from within them. I’m just the one steering this energy in the best direction I can.

I just witnessed an appearance of this mysterious force last week, when I spent the hour before school pinning up stellar examples of student work on the huge “publication board” in my classroom. I may have put the papers on the board, but the students did the work. (And mighty fine work it was.) When each class came in, they all buzzed exitedly around the board, looking for their names, peering over shoulders, shrieking out when they saw something that their best friend wrote pinned up for all to see. (Yes, even the eighteen-year-olds were practicing this giddy behavior!) This tells me that they’re proud to be here with me, that they’re happy to be recognized, and that they’re invested in what we do. This community energy that helps me do my job is sometimes measurable, sometimes invisible. But when I see it, it makes me smile. It reminds me that while I am the adult leader, I’m merely one small part of the learning that’s taking place in my class.

P.s. All that being said, I still would prefer classes of 20 kids or fewer.