7.24.2011
4.17.2010
Thrilled
So, I received my invitation just the other day to PRESENT AT NCTE 2010!
Two friends and I submitted a proposal late in 2009, and it was accepted. I will be discussing personal belief statement essays in our session while my fellow teaching friends will discuss choice literacy and Socratic Seminars. Sharing this news with my students was important to me. I'm forever encouraging them to take chances and be fortified by the taking of the chance in the first place; if the risk pays off, all the better. They recalled the enthusiasm with which I shared my experiences after NCTE 2009 (and they recalled the books--dear God, the books!), so they knew how much this meant to me.
In the midst of the anxiety brought on by the current state of affairs in NJ schools, the acceptance of our proposal was welcomed news to say the least. I'm not sure what will happen with my position next year. There is a strong possibility that it will not exist. I'm feeling curious above all else--curious to see what's next. I'm counting my blessings that I'm not one of the many who will lose a position and have to worry about how they will afford their mortgage or childcare. I have no spouse, no child. I live at home. I'm actually in the most perfect of positions to lose my job, if there existed such a thing. And I'm among the very few who could ever write a thing like that at a time like this.
Let's hope the populace in my district stops letting the governor do the thinking for them. (Fat chance.)
Two friends and I submitted a proposal late in 2009, and it was accepted. I will be discussing personal belief statement essays in our session while my fellow teaching friends will discuss choice literacy and Socratic Seminars. Sharing this news with my students was important to me. I'm forever encouraging them to take chances and be fortified by the taking of the chance in the first place; if the risk pays off, all the better. They recalled the enthusiasm with which I shared my experiences after NCTE 2009 (and they recalled the books--dear God, the books!), so they knew how much this meant to me.
In the midst of the anxiety brought on by the current state of affairs in NJ schools, the acceptance of our proposal was welcomed news to say the least. I'm not sure what will happen with my position next year. There is a strong possibility that it will not exist. I'm feeling curious above all else--curious to see what's next. I'm counting my blessings that I'm not one of the many who will lose a position and have to worry about how they will afford their mortgage or childcare. I have no spouse, no child. I live at home. I'm actually in the most perfect of positions to lose my job, if there existed such a thing. And I'm among the very few who could ever write a thing like that at a time like this.
Let's hope the populace in my district stops letting the governor do the thinking for them. (Fat chance.)
1.27.2010
Word.
This feeling of being lonely and very temporary visitors in the universe is in flat contradiction to everything known about man (and all other living organisms) in the sciences. We do not "come into" this world; we come out of it, as leaves from a tree. As the ocean "waves," the universe "peoples." Every individual is an expression of the whole realm of nature, a unique action of the total universe . . . The first result of this illusion is that our attitude to the world "outside" us is largely hostile. We are forever "conquering" nature, space, mountains, deserts, bacteria, and insects instead of learning to cooperate with them in a harmonious order.
--Alan Watts, The Book On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are
P.S.--I still hate mosquitoes.
--Alan Watts, The Book On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are
P.S.--I still hate mosquitoes.
1.11.2010
Daily Bread
I wonder what it's like to not understand how blessedly amazing it can feel to punch in some numbers to a grade book, watch a student's average move up to a 70%, and be thrilled.
12.18.2009
The Kindest Thing.
We're writing short personal essays on the kindest thing anyone has ever done for us--the Farmer's Almanac's essay topic for 2010. We'll be sending in our submissions in January.
You know, I was wondering when I was going to finally start feeling like there was a real connection between these kids and me. I was feeling guilty about missing my students from last year and resenting some of the resistance to work I've seen in this crew. I was questioning if we'd ever get into a groove. Being in writing workshop with my classes the past few days has answered my question. We're finally getting there. I have students writing about some dark, dark stuff. One witnessed the tragic death of his grandfather this summer and chose to write about the kindness of a neighbor who cared for him while his family rushed to the hospital. Another lost her mother at the age of 5--a fact of which I hadn't even been made aware until today--and writes of her father's support as she grieved. Yet another student is writing about the kindness his mother shows to him and his siblings, all of whom suffer from severe OCD and ADD.
Not all of their essays are steeped in tragedy. I have students writing about the small acts of kindness they are grateful for every day--parents who wake up extra early to make sure steaming breakfasts are ready and bus stops are not cold and lonely; coaches who offered words of solace and encouragement that stuck; doctors that saved cherished pets from any number of illnesses; fishing trips with dad.
Their truths are spilling out onto the page. They're showing me that they trust me to understand, validate, acknowledge their deepest sorrows, their most challenging struggles, and the stuff of their daily lives--the details that make up who they are, who they are becoming. I couldn't have asked for a better Christmas gift.
You know, I was wondering when I was going to finally start feeling like there was a real connection between these kids and me. I was feeling guilty about missing my students from last year and resenting some of the resistance to work I've seen in this crew. I was questioning if we'd ever get into a groove. Being in writing workshop with my classes the past few days has answered my question. We're finally getting there. I have students writing about some dark, dark stuff. One witnessed the tragic death of his grandfather this summer and chose to write about the kindness of a neighbor who cared for him while his family rushed to the hospital. Another lost her mother at the age of 5--a fact of which I hadn't even been made aware until today--and writes of her father's support as she grieved. Yet another student is writing about the kindness his mother shows to him and his siblings, all of whom suffer from severe OCD and ADD.
Not all of their essays are steeped in tragedy. I have students writing about the small acts of kindness they are grateful for every day--parents who wake up extra early to make sure steaming breakfasts are ready and bus stops are not cold and lonely; coaches who offered words of solace and encouragement that stuck; doctors that saved cherished pets from any number of illnesses; fishing trips with dad.
Their truths are spilling out onto the page. They're showing me that they trust me to understand, validate, acknowledge their deepest sorrows, their most challenging struggles, and the stuff of their daily lives--the details that make up who they are, who they are becoming. I couldn't have asked for a better Christmas gift.
12.08.2009
Ancillary. Maybe.
Me: "So? How do you like it?" (The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian, which I put in a book pass rotation last week)
Student Who Doesn't Want to Appear to Like Books, smugly, loudly, and with no enthusiasm: "It's ok. I guess."
Me, disappointed that I still haven't been able to help this student find the right title, that one title, yet: "Oh. Well. . . keep reading and let me know."
S.W.D.W.A.L.B., when no one's looking, as quietly as possible, with a secret smile: "Can I check it out?!"
Me, whispering now too: "Of course."
Student Who Doesn't Want to Appear to Like Books, smugly, loudly, and with no enthusiasm: "It's ok. I guess."
Me, disappointed that I still haven't been able to help this student find the right title, that one title, yet: "Oh. Well. . . keep reading and let me know."
S.W.D.W.A.L.B., when no one's looking, as quietly as possible, with a secret smile: "Can I check it out?!"
Me, whispering now too: "Of course."
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