Cheer for the New School Year

Today was the first day of school for my district. This might truly be the first year (my 16th) that I felt like I was ready for the kids and ready for the work. Not to say that I wasn't ready in past years, or that I was totally prepared (to me, a prepared teacher is one who has all copies made, lists complete, and ducks in a row) for the day, but more along the lines of mentally, emotionally, and psychologically (?) prepared to take on Day One.

Not physically, though - it will take some time to train the old bladder to wait for the bell. Summers are rough on us teachers, in that respect, when we can indulge whatever our bodies want at any time.

I'm returning to the blog this year after lurking on a co-worker's blog all last year (see http://www.ericstemle.com/index.html) and several other teacher blogs that lent me a hand, and experiencing the results. I think I might need it this year, too, as challenges abound. Those abounding challenges aren't out of the ordinary, but I'm really seeking some ways to move my thinking progressively about this profession.

Last year I was invited to interview for a position with a firm outside of education. One of the questions, and I'm sure it's pretty standard, was where do I see myself in 10 years. I'm terrible at prognostication, and not very practiced at introspection, but I really have come to rely on my sense of intuition - so my response was that I see myself in 10 years doing whatever I am doing in the next 2 or 3. That seemed to be enough for the interviewer. And now I find myself back in the classroom, looking at the shining faces of students who I know and who I don't know, and I find myself in a spot that I've been in many times, but this time with a longer view.

Will I still be teaching in 10 years? Possibly. Maybe, even, "quite possibly". Like I say, I'm not good at predicting the future. But if today is any indication, my gut tells me "yes".

And by the way, I got that job - and declined to take it because I already have a profession.

Don't Tread on Me

So be it.
Threaten no more.
To secure peace is
To prepare for war.

It's been some time since my last blog post. No matter. I've been trolling several good blogs, learning from the masters, as they say. This post is a response to one such master blog, at Siobhan Curious' site. Her initial question asked how students address their teachers. I might have gone a bit beyond. So sue me :) My response is below:

I teach at a public high school in the western United States. It’s a pretty informal place, overall. Students use everything from first name, last name, to “Mr.” or “Miss” (I’m convinced they don’t know the difference between “Miss” and “Mrs.”) – we even have one teacher that the students call by his nickname, “Bubba”. Most of my students call me by my last name only, no “Mr.”, and that has never bothered me.

What does bother me is when students pat or touch me on the shoulder. I’m average height for a man, but it seems that somehow my shoulder is an invitation for a hand-rest. I’ve never had a student do so in a threatening manner, but I’ve had several students over the years come to believe that we have such a close relationship that they can clasp my shoulder. It’s almost always my right shoulder, too. Odd behavior.

It’s not only students who do this, but other male colleagues feel this compulsion, too. I suppose it’s some sort of dominance thing, or maybe an act of brotherhood – but it just bothers the hell out of me. When I get the shoulder pat or shoulder squeeze, I usually give back the most evil eye I can compose. By then, sadly, the damage is done; the shoulder’s assaulted; the dominance established. Oh to be 2 inches taller – with an unassailable arm socket!

Student/teacher contact is a "touchy" situation, at least at my level. I'm sure it's no big deal to get a hug as an elementary teacher - I reserved hugs for my students on graduation days. What are your stories?

So be it, settle the score.

Touch me again for the words that you will hear evermore . . .

Don't tread on me!

Begin Again

There was an old man named Michael Finnegan.

He had whiskers on his chinnegan.

They fell and and then grew in again.

I posted this already as a response to this blog post, but I'm posting it here for myself!

As a 9-12 teacher, I use the 5 paragraph essay with my lower grades and lower level students. It provides structure to their thinking, especially when they lack the experience to express themselves on literary topics.

With upper level grades or advanced students, we really focus on tight theses and support, not so much on format.

I think the reason that this is an issue with colleges is systemic to both the k-12 system and college system. While it is true that public schools often don’t push students to develop critical thinking skills, and therefore produce poor writers, it is also true that colleges are being run more and more as businesses, and accepting students of lower caliber.

I don’t believe that there has ever been a time in history where a society has attempted to educate, at such a high level, it’s entire populace. So, we have a systemic ‘problem’ that emerges as poorly literate college students, when really they’re highly literate elementary ones.

Our district is really undergoing growing pains as we develop a comprehensive k-12 literacy program. As a 13 year veteran, I’m basically relearning my craft. I don’t think it’s that high schools are necessarily producing less literate students, it’s just that more are choosing to go to college than ever before, and current research in literacy is exposing a gap that we’ve had for quite some time.

Poor old Michael Finnegan.

Begin again.

The Struggle Within

(Struggle within) It suits you fine,
(Struggle within) Your ruin.

I'm attending a training on working with struggling readers this week. It's truly something I want to learn more about.

We're 'unpacking' our own reading by attempting a difficult text - "Oracle Night" by Paul Auster. This text contains narrative-within-narrative structures that make it difficult to read. I see how it could be, but for me, it's not, really. I'm currently reading a much denser text by Carl Sagan. It's "The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Darkness", and it is a text with which I struggle. I've spent time metacognizing about why it's difficult for me, as we're supposed to do with "Oracle Night". This is my second go at it, as the last time I tried to read it, my personal life created barriers. At least, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

I understand the desire to increase student achievement. Reading is critical to the success of this endeavor, and the success of the respective student. Yet I feel continually disappointed in the inservice we receive on these topics. Will this be another year of prolonged diatribes and misapplied concepts from the administration?

I'm afraid it will.

The superintendent is currently reading about the crucial role that literacy plays in a democratic society. But this is something we covered in a one-day workshop when Kelly Gallagher presented in the valley a couple of years ago. It is something that, left to my own devices, I've worked with my students on since then.

This workshop presenter posed the question about why is reading valuable; my answer, read Gallagher's nine Reading Reasons. Sheesh! The thing I like about Gallagher is that it isn't just about research, it's about practical applications. Why is it assumed that we don't listen, don't care, or don't know?

The authoritarian structure just really irritates me.

I think this will be a good workshop. Even though I go into these feeling like I'm reinventing the wheel (or, more precisely, watching someone else talk about how they've reinvented the wheel), I remain optimistic.

At least I got a free book out of it.

As my favorite band asked:

(What the hell) What is it you think you're gonna find?
(Hypocrite) Boredom sets in to the boring mind.

(Struggle within) You seal your own coffin,
(Struggle within) The struggling within.

I've been lookin' to the sky to save me

Lookin' for some kind of life

Lookin' for something to help me burn out bright

And it might have finally happened. After about 3 weeks of feeling just terrible, I might be coming out of it. Funny how a visit to the doctor's office can do that . . . of course, I don't think the doctor knows what's going on. I was prescribed about 5 kinds of medicine - of which I'm taking 3.

So, now that I'm coming back to life, I was thinking about these casual games that I've been playing. Specifically, the matching games like Bejeweled (2), which I downloaded from the xbox. I've got Chuzzle for the iPod, which is similar to Bejeweled, at least as far as the matching.

In this one, the jewels are instead fuzzy and colorful little creatures called Chuzzles, who are excited to burst into little clouds of furry fireworks when matched in groups of 3 or more. Sometimes, they'll even combine to make larger Chuzzles, or lock on the board to make it more difficult to make matches.

Then, there's PuzzleQuest, which I've been hitting hard lately. This funny little gem of a game includes the leveling-up and questing of an RPG with the substance of the casual gem matching game. Not only can you match gems, but matching skulls damages your opponent, and you can cast spells for added effects. Ok, the graphics aren't as flashy as Bejeweled, but the game is much more immersive.

And finally, the Fb game of Jungle Jewels tends to consume my time, mostly in 5 minute spurts (or less). Stupid coins!

There is just something therapeutic in virtually matching gems which fall from the sky in arbitrary fashion. At least, they've helped me get over the mental boredom that accompanies physical illness.

And I've learned that Chuzzles don't have pockets!

So I'm looking for a complication

Looking 'cause I'm tired of trying

Make my way back home when I learn to fly

Love will find a way.
Darlin', love is gonna find a way,
Find its way back to you.

My long-time friend, a lifetime bachelor, married a beautiful woman yesterday. She, radiant in wedding-white silk and satin, and he, beaming and brimming with love and pride, accepted my small family in their reception line.

I know her only through him, but well enough to heartily approve of this union. I don't give my friend away to marital bliss to just anyone! Him I know from years of friendship and shared joy and pain; the buddy bond, so to speak.

Watching them brought to mind the greatest gift that we share with each other. The gift of love.

Love takes many forms, and often forms that we fail to expect. Love of brotherhood, or sisterhood. Love of passion, or compassion. Love for our children and pets. The deep abiding love of a soul-mate. Love for God or nature.

Love portends good in the world. It serves as an indicator of harmony. Love shines a light on darkness and hard times. Love covers my heart and soul like a familiar blanket.

I'm in love with love.

The precious moments we share with love in its many forms are the pillars that buttress our lives. Share your love with others - give them the gift of strong support in their lives.

She received the polite "I'm happy for you" hug that part-time strangers give at these occasions. He, the handshake-turned-backslapping tight hug of true friends. Love was in the air, for certain.

The heart-felt man-hug I gave my buddy last night reassured me that the world is okay. That despite the conflict, pain and disasters that plague us, love provides the buoy for the spirit. That true love prevails despite the trials, troubles and tribulations of this world.

That love will find a way.

Love will find a way.
Love is gonna find a way back to you, yeah,
I know. De-do-doo-te-do. I know.

Out-of-Date Update

Its been a long time since I rock and rolled,
Its been a long time since I did the stroll.
Ooh, let me get it back, let me get it back,
Let me get it back, baby, where I come from.

Time rushes by like a bottle in the rapids; one filled with people, places and events! It's known as the beginning of the school year, and this ride is rock 'n rollin'.

This tumultuous year shows no signs of slowing down. We meet often (oh, meetings!), I find students to learn with and love, we travel on wild trips across the state, and my life fills with more than a little bit of chaos.

My desk is clean (again, for the twentieth time) only to be swamped with tests and essays. This is the life!

One of my yearbook editors, out sick for the last several days, visited my desk to conference about the photography test she made for the staff. We made eye contact and smiled, feeling dis-acquainted due to her illness, and it brought her up short. Her eyes fell quickly to my desk, normally awash in books, papers, passes, techie toys and other debris. It was at this point that her mouth fell open.

"Mr. D - your desk is clean!"

As if this were a revelation of the greatest proportion.

As if the biblical storm just ended and the waters receded.

I quickly pointed to a my in-box on the side table, full-to-brimming with newly deposited detritus from the vanishing flood. Today marked the end of the unit, due date for essays, and unit-test day. I'm so smart to ask for all of it at once, neh?

She smiled, handing me the stack of tests she graded.

Thanks, kid.

Once this flood is cleared away, maybe I'll gain a clearer vision of where we've been. Hopefully this crazy boating trip proves worthwhile. Perhaps I'll even catch a glimpse of the beauty of a stretch of silence. It may even happen before the next wave hits . . . on Monday.

Its been a long time, been a long time,
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.
Yes it has.