Friday, June 21, 2013

Me, as a reader


1. I read fast, sometimes too fast.
2. I know what’s going to happen in most fantasy novels, yet I read them anyway.
3. I read every book by Piers Anthony that I could find in high school.
4. I almost never re-read a book.
5. I can talk about books and their deep meanings all day. Any day.
6. I read every book by Tom Clancy (at the time) my sophomore year of high school.
7. I worked in the school library during one hour of high school. The librarian took her lunch during that hour, so I was alone in the stacks every day.
8. I love to read books about science and math, especially when I don’t have the background knowledge for them.
9. I mispronounce words that I learned from books all the time. Assuage.
10. When I read an article, I often find myself fighting the author and arguing in my head even if it’s making a point I agree with.
11. When I was six, I “read” a book about Paddington bear at the circus to my grandmother. She was very proud of me. I had memorized it from making my mom read it to me over and over. I still feel guilty about this.
12. I skim what I’m assigned. If I don’t choose it myself, I find it hard to engage past just floating along the page.
13. I like a book in which I dislike major characters. I’m a big fan of flawed heroes and anti-heroes.
14. I think Stephen King gets a bad rap as I don’t think he’s a horror writer, he’s a fantasy/science fiction moralist. And a brilliant user of language.
15. The first book I ever wished that I’d written was Rush Limbaugh is a Big, Fat Idiot by Al Franken.
16. I read Catcher in the Rye well before I was ready.
17. “I understood without understanding that there was nothing to understand.”







Reflections on Colby's Some of My Best Friends are Black


How does today’s reading complement your former reading?
What is an issue that you see in these readings that you can take action about? What is the issue and what steps can be taken?

This excerpt from Cross-X filled in some blanks for me in terms of the on-the-ground experiences of the people involved in the story told in Some of My Best Friends are Black.To think about the messy cauldron of angry black students, racist (overtly, covertly, or subliminally) staff members, and impressionable and probably earnest white students at Central helps me understand the morass that the problem of race in Kansas City is. Teachers being assaulted, but, for what? A brawl between Central and Raytown South, but, the stars and bars flying proudly at that school? I’d never known that. There is no action without reaction, no effect without cause. The white parent who abandons a school or the teacher who resigns after seeing an issue of violence hasn’t done so entirely because of racist motivations. The fear they feel is real; the danger they face is real, though may be of their own doing. Police officers don’t usually mace a person in the face unprovoked, but even if the officer did, it doesn’t justify violence to the degree of the riot described. It’s so messy. So, so messy.
I don’t know what to do about the issue that this raises for me. What immediately jumped into my head was the recent “adoption” of Van Horn High School by the Independence School District. Obviously a contentious issue at the time, I hadn’t really delved deeply into the arguments or deeply seeded issues. I remember that Kansas City fought hard and even chained the doors at one point. It was overtly NOT framed as a racial issue. Independence was stepping in for the citizens of Independence, Missouri who wanted to be able to send their children to an Independence school. This wasn’t about black or white, but Van Horn (according to the DESE website) was 30% white in 2008 and 68% in 2009 when Independence took it over. Overnight, Van Horn became as white a school as Chrisman and Truman. Yet, no one is talking about this. How do we get people to discuss racial issues?

SI Teacher Inquiry Essay


Engagement, The Holy Grail
                It wasn’t hard to come to my topic and research question. I got there fast, but then changed multiple times. If anything I found myself regretting the questions I didn’t follow, and every day I find myself becoming more and more convinced that the questions that I couldn’t explore will not disappear.
                All of my questions and many of our questions have revolved around what I see as the holy grail of engagement. How many of the issues that disrupt my classroom really boil down to a lack of engagement? What could my classes accomplish if they cared and understood the purpose in everything we do? A student’s reluctance to discuss heady issues might have to do with my classroom climate or my particular techniques, but I’ve had great discussions in classes that I didn’t feel that I had established a great classroom climate nor had I looked for or used particularly special techniques. I’m looking at many of these TIW’s and thinking that this is what we’re truly after.
                I know my strengths and I play to them as much as possible. But I’m also keenly aware of my weaknesses. When the frantic end to the year dissipated and I found myself with time to really dig into my workshop, I realized that the original passion I’d felt for my topic was missing.
                I’d wanted to spend my time examining what literacy meant. My district has been implementing changes based on a perceived need for better literacy. Our kids can’t read, and we have to go into emergency mode to fix it. My problem has been that the measures seem skewed and disagree with both anecdotal and academic evidence I have. Part of my passion had a pin put in it by the fact that my school district listened to my and the reading teachers’ concerns and are working this summer to implement many of the changes we suggested. The other part melted away when I began examining the research on reading and reading tests. Clearly this was a question for doctoral research.
So, what then? I channeled Dylan’s mellow voice, “Find your stuck place…” he purred. Where am I stuck? A wave washed over me – faces of students, their questions ringing in my ears, colleagues weary faces as I watch them burning out – so many stuck places. I’m stuck wondering how to lead from a non-administrative position. I’m stuck wondering how to save a great colleague who is allowing anxiety and negativity to pull him closer and closer to the abyss of burn-out. I’m stuck trying to find a way to connect my classroom and my school to its community. I’m stuck trying to find ways to bring my students along with me to the places I want to take them. I'm stuck trying to figure out how to make sure that I don’t joke myself out of ever being taken seriously.
Now I’m stuck being stuck.
There’s Dylan again, “Something you want to overcome, a place that you want to look closely at to find a way through or around or over it.” What can I control? I can only control my behaviors. I can’t make sure they’re fed or loved or nurtured or encouraged, but I can ensure that when they walk into my classroom I’ve spent the right amount of time and effort in preparation to engage them.
My question revolved around using philosophical inquiry as the fuel for discussion in my class. I had three particular students in mind as I wrote and researched and presented. Victoria was absorbed entirely in grades. She was blunt and clear in that she saw value from my class in its placement on her resume and the A she had damn well better earn. Heather had nothing but distaste for teachers – all teachers. Her sighing and eye rolling was always centered on how asinine my questions had to be, how I couldn’t possibly have a point to what I’m asking, how she was on to my schtick, and I needed to give it up. Jasmine was the most upsetting: a smart, kind, eager student her sophomore year who had soured on her classmates. Their comments were met with non-verbal derision – some of which prompted harsh reaction from me.
What I realize was missing from them is really buy-in and connection. Engagement. Maybe philosophical inquiry will help, but so might incorporating technology, using creative writing techniques, connecting writing to professional fields the students are deeply interested in, examining the constraints and choice of genre, and engaging students in direct investigation of grammar through the use of exemplar texts. 
I didn’t find all the answers. I’m still trying to narrow the possibilities of where the answers might come from. But I think that I’m learning every day. I’m intrigued by the idea of varied methods of expression helping to get students engaged in deep critical thinking. My students write mirror poetry when responding to literature, but I think that their desire to create might be a way of helping them get to the deep end without them even realizing it. I’m starting to think that the more I can camouflage deep, analytical thinking, the more successful it might be. Why not let students engage in criticizing elements of pop culture as long as the discourse can stay academic? More and more, people-who-know reiterate that the common core will be about what kids can do, not what they know. If a student can compare and analyze the depictions of womanhood in “Call Me, Maybe” and “You Oughta Know,” does it matter that the media isn’t classic literature?
                I’m also sure that I’ll keep adding to the answers to this dilemma as I watch more TIW’s. What’s amazing to me is how a community of learners can come together and inquire openly and help each other directly and indirectly.