A popular idiom has it that there is “no time like the present”, and this is truer than I sometimes realize. Indeed, there is no time but the present. For as long as I live, I will never be able to experience any time but present-moment time. I may long for some esteemed time in the past or future, but the only time I will ever be able to actually encounter is the present. I’m literally a prisoner of the present moment.

-- July 31, 2007

Two Miracles

A few weeks ago, I purchased a mirror to use when bike-riding, and it has proven to be a small miracle. Attached to my helmet and easily rotated for the best view, it has enabled me to get a relatively clear view of the road behind me. As I’m cruising along, all it takes is a slight tilt or turn of my head to know if a car is approaching from the rear. I find it astonishing that such a small device (see picture) can be such a significant aid on the road. For $15.00, I have purchased important protection and reassurance for myself. I now journey along our roads with a comforting faith in my ability to have crash-free rides.

Another miracle I’ve been pondering recently is the shower in my apartment. It’s nothing extraordinary – just your ordinary low-cost shower-head – but I find it quite astonishing, nonetheless. It has a small lever that I can push to make the water temporarily flow more gently (easier on my bald head), and when I push the lever back to its original position, the water once again surges forth. I can also rotate the shower-head so it sprays left, right, backward, or forward. Amazing! I guess I feel this sense of wonder because I often think of the 80% of the world’s population who don’t even have the luxury of running water, let alone a shower that twists and turns and flows softly or strongly. Each time I take a shower I feel like a king in my two-bedroom castle on Granite Street.

-- July 31, 2007

Whenever I manage to step far enough away from my “self” to get the big picture, it becomes obvious that reality is made of thoughts instead of things, is one instead of many, and is harmonious instead of discordant.

* * * * *

According to one dictionary, something is perfect if it “lacks nothing essential to the whole” and is “complete of its nature or kind”. By this definition, every present moment is perfect. Each one is a whole moment that contains everything necessary to make it what it is. For that particular kind of present moment, it’s flawless and ideal. I may wish a particular moment was different than it is, but it’s foolish to wish a moment was better than it is. For that specific point in time, each moment is just right, just the thing, just what the doctor (the universe) ordered, just what it is. Future moments may look bleak, and past moments may seem scary, but the moment right here, right now, is utterly perfect.

I’m not suggesting that I should be happy with every moment. A moment can be absolutely perfect – just the way it has to be – without making me the least bit happy. Obviously, some moments are downright dangerous and scary. If I’m stuck outside and a tornado is looming, this is not good, and I need to act quickly to change my situation. However, it is the situation, and if I’m able to first accept the situation as it is – accept the fact of the tornado in all its fearfulness –I can then act in a more controlled and powerful manner than if I am panicking and wildly resisting what’s happening. Paradoxically, by totally accepting the furious presence of the storm, I’m better able to survive it.

These are not my ideas, nor are they the least bit new. The great sages since time began have spoken and written about the ironic power of nonresistance and acceptance. At the age of 65, I’m just slowly starting to understand these very old truths.

-- July 30, 2007

In the grocery store today, I saw a couple who were having a wonderful time together as they shopped – laughing and hugging while they looked over the produce displays. I realized, as I watched them for a moment, that I was sharing in their happiness. The joy they were feeling was coming across to me and I was participating in it. It was as though I was part of their gladness and it was a part of me. I continued shopping with a contented smile on my face.

I thought about it as I was riding my bike home, and it occurred to me that I shouldn’t have been surprised to share so fully in someone’s joy. After all, joy is not a material thing that can be “owned” and “kept” by people. Gladness cannot be hoarded, roped off, and locked up. A feeling like happiness is infinite and available to one and all, as free as the air we breathe.

I breathed in a lot of it in the grocery store today, and, as usual, it was good for my health.

-- July 29, 2007

Old Sturbridge Village


TOGETHERNESS

Yesterday I experienced a sense of family togetherness and amity that I wouldn’t trade for anything. It began with a drive up to Old Sturbridge Village with Jaimie and Noah – Jaimie and I in the front seat, and Noah contentedly busying himself in the back seat. Jaimie and I had a wonderful conversation about teaching strategies (we’re hoping to do a collaborative project this year with our 8^th grade classes), and Noah happily murmured to himself as he looked through some books I had brought. I occasionally glanced back and exchanged a few words with the little fellow, and I more than occasionally gave silent thanks for the pure friendship present in that car. That sense of friendship only increased when we met Luke, baby Josh, and the sociable animals at Sturbridge. We walked along the quiet lanes of the village, where we met peaceful, sleepy pigs and a yoke of steers who seemed to have a sincere friendship with the young man guiding them. We were five good friends among pleasant animals who seemed to feel as easygoing and stress-free as we did. It was a special thrill for me to feel the comradeship between my two sons and me. I guess that kind of friendship is among the greatest in the world – the closeness between a parent and his grown children. As I strolled between Luke and Jaimie, I knew I’d been given a gift beyond description. Even echoing thunder and sporadic showers could do little to interrupt the feeling of solidarity as our small family group toured the old village.

THE BEST GAME EVER

The other day, as I was pondering the old maxim “it’s only a game”, I was reminded that life itself is better pictured that way. In fact, I think the surest way to achieve true contentment is to view life not just as a game, but as a friendly, pleasant spectator sport, where I am both an active player and a bemused fan. Instead of seeing myself as part of an intensely serious contest, the results of which carry life-or-death implications, I need to step back and be an observer at a light-hearted game. I need to see my little “self” down there on the playing field of life, racing here and there, performing weird and wonderful feats, or just temporarily convalescing on the bench. I should cheer, boo, sigh, scream, or applaud for my “self” and the other players, all the while remaining at ease and satisfied because, after all, it’s only a game. With that kind of a distant, bystander, eyewitness viewpoint, I would, perhaps, eventually come to realize that all my daily doings and goings-on, all my earnest endeavors and pursuits, all my seemingly serious thoughts and aspirations, are, in fact, merely part of a highly entertaining game – a game in which there are no losers. (The inventor and referee of the game is the Universe, and it only allows winning. Unfortunately, many of the contestants don’t realize that.) If something “bad” happens to my "self "– a boring class, a flat tire, loss of job, cancer, impending death — oh well, it’s just a game, and anyway, eventually I’ll see my self (and all my teammates and competitors) holding up the cup of victory, as usual. Sooner or later I’ll see, once more, that winning is the only possible outcome for the game of life, and that even death is a victory for life. I’ll sit back, get out my binoculars, and continue watching Hamilton Salsich – so distant, small, and beautiful in this measureless arena owned by the Universe – playing in his intense, comfortable, and buoyant way.

-- July 28, 2007

Thoughts to keep in mind for school year 2007-08 (based on my summer reading):

1. Discussion –

a. Flanders Interaction Analysis – (from Reflective Teaching, Reflective Learning, ch. 7)

-- discussions of more than 10 min, 80% of students should participate

--discussions of more than 30 min, all should participate

--teacher-talk -- 30%, student-talk -- 70%.

-- every 10 seconds, observer notes the type of discussion (see p. 100 for checklist)

b. Question-answer relationships (QAR) (Reflective, p. 104) –show students the different types of questions

-- use the “uptake” method (p. 106)

c. Reading Level Response (RLR) (Reflective p. 148)

-- give this list to kids, refer to it often during discussions throughout the year.

--possibly use RLR guidelines (151) for SRJs??

-- perhaps I could assign different levels for different reading assignments?? (This Chapter 10 (reflect) is a good one.)

d. criteria for discussion – (from Adolescent Literacy, 57. Give to students??

2. Thinking, being good students

a. difference between declarative knowledge and procedural knowledge

-- I should be teaching mainly procedural knowledge (how to do things) (Reflective, 190)

b. metacognition – thinking about a) what you know, b) what you are currently doing, c) what your current cognitive or affective state is.

-- see metacog list in Adolescent, 36.

c. what is a good student? and scenarios for discussions about what makes a good student (Reflective, 194)

d. the essence of understanding (Adolescent, ch. 4)

--see list of “dimensions of understanding” (35), and perhaps give these to students

e. “thinking maps”, Adolescent, 251-)

3. Communication between teacher and student

a. letters between me and the students???(Adolescent, ch 9)

4. collaboration

a. Burke – (Adolescent, ch. 10) A VERY GOOD CHAPTER

-- Daniel Pink on “symphony”, the importance of synthesizing (154)

5. writing

a. characteristics of effective writing – AN INTERESTING LIST, (Adolescent, 196)

b. writing/revision groups: (Adolescent, 223, GREAT GUIDELINES

C. writing on demand –

--prompt analysis questions – (from Writing on Demand), 67 –EXCELLENT FOR TEXTBOOK

DOING NOTHING

It’s surprising to realize that I can exhibit a great amount of power when I’m doing nothing. This, of course, seems like an utterly foolish statement when we consider the generally accepted notion that the more we do and accomplish, the more power we demonstrate. We’ve been trained to believe that always doing something is the road to a successful life, whereas doing nothing is the road to indolence and discontent. This has led to the helter-skelter, get-things-done lifestyle that many people lead, a lifestyle where doing nothing is synonymous with failure. What I’m slowly coming to understand, though, is that “doing” something usually means allowing my ego to take center stage, and this is a recipe, not for a feeling of power, but ultimately for a feeling of weakness. If my life is centered around “accomplishing” as much as possible, then it’s centered around my ego – my personal “self” trying to complete as many tasks as possible against the enormous odds life sets up for me. It’s a formula for disaster, simply because, in the end, anyone’s ego is far too small to accomplish a satisfactory amount in the vast universe we live in. There will always, finally, be a feeling of smallness, insignificance, and dissatisfaction. On the other hand, when I’m in a “doing nothing” zone, I’m sort of relaxing and allowing the work to do itself, and oddly, I usually feel much more powerful. It’s like I’m not using will-power, but universe-power. I’m participating in getting the papers graded, or in cleaning the apartment, or in planning my daily lessons, but, in a sense, I’m not doing anything. The job is doing itself, and I’m along for the ride. That’s the kind of “doing nothing” that, paradoxically, seems to accomplish a great deal for me. An old Zen master once said, “Ho ho. For forty years I have been selling water by the river and my efforts are totally without merit.” He’s been “doing nothing” and enjoying it immensely.

-- July 26, 2007

This morning I took an early bike ride along the shore with a friend. We met under clearing skies in a small village by the sea and then cruised along the various beaches for about thirty minutes. We didn’t exhaust ourselves. It was just a pleasant chance to feel cool air, get a modicum of exercise, and talk about many things. There were almost no cars out that early, so the roads were ours as we pedaled and chatted side by side. We stopped at a turn-out where motorists (and bikers) can get a beautiful view of the sea, and then headed back to the village for breakfast in a small, welcoming cafe.

EATING A BOOK

Strange as it sounds, I would like my students to learn how to “eat” a book — meaning thoroughly take the book in, consume it, and digest it. This is different from the way many of us often read — skimming through the pages, dashing from one chapter to the next, and then racing on to the next book. This is not eating a book, but only tasting it. Instead of truly consuming books, we often merely nibble, sip, and sample as we rush along. I want my students to read in a different way. I want them to learn to sit down at the table of a great book, settle themselves in, and enjoy a complete and nutritious meal. Reading a book by Dickens or Willa Cather or Toni Morrison is like having a meal at the home of a distinguished person. We wouldn’t rush through that meal, and we shouldn’t rush through a classic work of literature. This year I want my students to slow down (not an easy task for most of them), read each word thoughtfully, ponder the sentences and paragraphs, and slowly digest the meaning and beauty of the writing. Eating quickly can cause discomfort, and so can reading quickly. At the very least, reading hastily will cause my students to miss the most nutritious parts of the “meal”. They may close the book at the end and leave the real nutrition inside. I don’t want that to happen this year.

Walt Whitman

UNSELFISHNESS AND THE IMAGINATION

It occurred to me today, while I was reading some of Whitman’s great imaginative poems on a bike-ride stop, that using the power of the imagination is really the only way to overcome selfishness. To put it another way, people who can’t use their imagination are doomed to a meager life of selfishness. Whitman was a man of immense imagination. He was able to get out of “himself” – way, way out – so he could appreciate the immensity of the universe that he was a part of. His imagination helped him realize that he wasn’t simply a small, isolated “self”, but was part of an infinite cosmos (or Kosmos, as he wrote it) in which everything was a piece of everything else. In his visionary poems, he journeys through the entire universe, identifying himself with every object, animal, person, and power. He was them and they were him. There were no small selves, only one measureless Self. It was a universe completely devoid of petty selfishness, and only the imagination can help us find it.

--July 22, 2007

On my ride this afternoon, I stopped quite often along the country roads. I had my Whitman along, as usual, and on my frequent stops I read a few lines, took note of the beautiful landscape, and swallowed some reviving water. I need to do this more often. Why do I dash along on so many of my rides? Where am I trying to get to so fast, and why, for heaven’s sake? There’s much to be seen along the picturesque pastoral roads in my part of the world. There’re acres of corn, right now, fully six feet high and bending in the breezes. There are stone fences of the kind of strength and grace that needs to be studied. Why not give the bike a rest now and then and take a look around?

-- July 22, 2007

AN OVERWHELMING FEELING

Yesterday morning I awoke with a clear sense of the overwhelming power of thoughts. For some reason, as I brushed my teeth and prepared for the day, it seemed obvious that thoughts had far more power than I had ever realized. I could almost feel the infinite power of ideas doing its quiet but irresistible work around the world. Billions of ideas were unfolding at any given moment, and each of them would cause immeasurable changes in the universe. As I sipped my first cup of coffee, I felt as if I (and the whole universe) was being swept along by a measureless ocean of ideas. It was an awe-inspiring feeling. I had to sit down to steady myself.

-- July 22, 2007

A SIXTY-FIVE YEAR OLD BOY

This morning I did something that I used to do as a child many years ago. After breakfast, I settled into my favorite comfortable chair and listened to an old-time radio episode of “Gunsmoke”. A few months ago I discovered a website that offers thousands of old programs, and I’ve been thoroughly enjoying them this summer. The “Gunsmoke” programs are some of the best – usually very well acted and filled with splendid sound effects. I’m astonished, actually, at how much artistry is obvious in each program: the plots are often subtle and inventive, and the dramatic performances are usually superb. This morning I leaned back with a cup of coffee and listened to a wistful episode about a good father and a bad son. I especially enjoyed the sound effects: the clip-clopping of horses, the singing of crickets, the opening and closing of doors, the sound of footsteps moving away in the distance. I was completely swept up into the atmosphere of the plot as I listened and sipped my coffee. Except for the coffee, I might have been ten years old and sitting spellbound once upon a time in the cozy house on back on Fairview Avenue.

"Trees in the Wind", by Janet Roth Block

NO STRUGGLE, NO PROBLEM

It occurred to me this morning that a problem exists only where there's a struggle. If there's no struggle, there's no problem. The logical conclusion from this is that if I want to eliminate problems in my life, I simply have to stop struggling. No struggle, no problem. I began thinking about this on a stop on my bike ride. As I was drinking some water and watching the branches in a nearby tree wave in a breeze, I realized that the branches were not doing what we call "struggling". You might say they weren’t resisting the wind, but appeared, rather, to be simply giving in to it and allowing it to push them this way and that. As I watched the branches sway and lean in the wind (which sometimes gusted strongly), they seemed beautiful in their movements. Far from presenting the appearance of confronting a "problem", they looked totally harmonious and at peace. What we might have called a potential problem (the wind), they were handling like something advantageous -- like a gift they could make good use of. They weren't struggling, but rather submitting, acquiescing, conceding. In a sense, they were "playing along" with the wind, and thus there was no possibility of a struggle.

This, however, does not mean they were being weak. The branches I was watching were not weak, but in fact were demonstrating their strength through their limberness and flexibility. They were, in a sense, overcoming the wind by yielding to it. By not struggling, they were powerful enough to easily survive the wind to sway and bend another day.

Perhaps I need to learn to "play along' with whatever comes my way. There can be no problem for someone who yields with grace and strength to the sundry winds of life.

I just finished watching Freedom Writers, a film about teaching that moved me greatly. Several things stood out for me. First, the teacher, early in the year, showed strength to the students. She stood up to them, let them know she was serious about being their teacher. Her smile disappeared (at least for a time), and the kids started seeing her as a passionate and dogged (though also loving) teacher. Second, she allowed them to write from the heart. Any sensible person knows that when writers write about what they know and feel deeply, the writing has a good chance of being powerful. Third, the teacher changed the lives of her students. Because she believed in them and loved them and stood by them, their lives were literally transformed. This is exactly what I find so thrilling about being a teacher – the possibility, every day, of helping young people blossom again and again. It’s a thrill, and a great, great honor.

-- July 19, 2007

Today my landlord put in a new faucet in my bathroom. The other one was leaking a bit, and now, thanks to a few hours of labor by the good property-owner, I have a shiny, leak-proof faucet. Just a moment ago, I tried it, and the water streamed out forcefully at the turn of the handle. A small thing, perhaps, to some, but to me, endless water at my fingertips is a miracle of the first order, especially considering conditions in some parts of the world. While people are walking miles each day to carry home a modicum of water in pails, I’m walking ten paces to my sink to access unlimited amounts. Thinking of those others, I’ll try to use my water sparingly.

-- July 19, 2007

A PERFORMANCE ON ROUTE 1

On my bike ride yesterday, I stopped to rest at the top of a long hill, and while I was catching my breath, I watched a bee landing on different weed stems and bending them down nearly to the ground. It was a graceful performance. The bee would float to a stem, alight on it, and the stem would elegantly bow until it almost touched the grass, the bee riding it with style. Then the bee would drift off to another stem and the show would be repeated.

-- July 19, 2007

Here's a wonderful picture from the New London Day of two girls from Groton during yesterday's rainstorm. They told the photographer they started out for a walk when the day was cloudy but dry, but then got surprised by the storm. The rain doesn't seem to be particularly bothersome to them.

"Rejoicing", by Duane Cash

AN ODD FEELING

What do you do when you suddenly have the feeling that reality is way, way more amazing than you ever realized? When you see that you’ve been living with a blindfold on, almost totally ignorant of the infinite magnificence of life? When you feel like you’ve just awakened to find yourself in paradise? Every now and then I get that feeling, and last night was one of those times. I felt like I was surrounded by beauty and majesty, and yet I was just in my small apartment on Granite Street. I felt like every moment was one of absolute perfection, and yet it was merely another Wednesday evening in July. There seemed to be an endless supply of power available to me, and yet I was only a slumped and flabby 65-year-old man. It was a strange feeling, to say the least. I wanted to set out walking for miles and miles. I wanted to call many people. I wanted to sing old songs as loud as possible. Instead of that, I simply walked back and forth in my living room, watching the twilight darken and smiling at my good fortune.

--Thursday, July 19, 2007

AMAZING NEWS

Something earthshaking happened to me today. No, I didn’t get a book accepted by a publisher, and no, my doctor didn’t tell me I had a life-threatening illness. I didn’t win the lottery, nor did I narrowly avoid a serious accident. What happened to me today was simpler than these, less conspicuous, and yet, oddly, just as momentous. It was merely that someone drove me and my bike home from school in a heavy rainstorm. After wondering all morning how I was going to make it home on my bike through a driving rain, I arrived home quickly and dryly because of this friend’s kindness. In many ways, it wasn’t a big deal. I just tossed my bike in the back of his pickup, hopped in, and in about fifteen minutes I was home in my cozy apartment, my bike safely drying in the corner of the kitchen. It was just a small act of generosity, but to me it was something splendid. Today many marvelous things happened: government debates were held, cornerstones for skyscrapers were laid, planets circulated through space, championships were won, and a guy with a black truck took my bike and me home.

-- Wednesday, July 18, 2007

FINDING OLD FRIENDS

Yesterday I renewed some great friendships.
First, around 7:00 in the morning, I met some friends down at the beach for a bike-ride and breakfast. The weather was perfect for riding – cool, clear, and windless – and we had a fine time cruising down the shore roads. It was by no means a demanding workout, so we were able to relax and chat as we pedaled in the cheerful early light. After our short ride, breakfast at a seaside cafe provided fine food and more genial conversation. Still more talk among old friends happened later in the day, when I met a former colleague at her grandson’s house. We enjoyed an hour or so together, harkening back to times gone by and watching the small boy swing back and forth under a comforting shade tree. We were also joined by two former students – kind and lighthearted sisters who unintentionally reminded us, I think, how rewarding the teaching profession can be.

"Girl Reading", by Jean-Honore Fragonard

SOJOURNING IN BOOKS

This coming year I hope to show my students that you can sojourn in a book instead of merely reading it. Sojourning in a book like Great Expectations means spending quality time with it, just as you would if you were visiting a special place. You would be relaxed as you make your way through the pages, but you would also be vigilant so as to not overlook a thing. You would try very hard not to rush, just as you would not want to rush when staying in a beautiful place. The word sojourn also implies that the book could become a “place of residence” for my students. Similar to staying in someone’s home for an extended period, my students, hopefully, will become comfortable with the characters, scenes, and ideas of the Dickens’ novel. Since they won’t be merely “passing through” the book, but actually residing in it for several months, it hopefully will become as well-known and memorable to them as a second home. In fact, I hope the students might be a bit reluctant to leave Great Expectations when we come to the final chapter. If you have visited an enchanting place and come to know it well, you might hate to depart, and perhaps the same will be true of my students. They might want to delay our departure from the novel, might tarry and linger in the pages for just a little longer. After our lengthy sojourn with Great Expectations, it would be wonderful to hear the students say, “Can’t we pleeeeeease stay with the book for just one more week!”

ORDER AND TEACHING

Of all the ideas that seem important to me as far as teaching goes, “order” is right at the top of the list. In so many ways, the concept of order – the logical or comprehensible arrangement among separate elements of a group – plays a vital role in my classroom. This is true largely, I suppose, because order is good for my students and me. A sense of order can bring a sense of peace, which in turn can lead to productive thinking and action. Without order in the classroom, there would be only its opposite, disarray, and disarray leads to nothing but more of itself. So I try, first of all, to provide an orderly atmosphere in my classroom. I keep the room spotless and neat, which I believe can help promote spotless and neat thinking, reading, and writing by my students. When they enter my room each day, I want them to feel like they are coming into an area where each thing has its proper place, and where harmony seems to be the primary force. When they read our literature books, too, I want them to feel, and recognize, a similar type of orderliness. We read long, complex, and often enigmatic works of literature, and my goal for the students is that they learn to discern the unity and concord just beneath the surface of the sentences. Although, like their lives, these books may initially seem baffling to the students, my responsibility as their English teacher is to show them how to uncover the hidden harmony in the books (and perhaps, indirectly, in their lives). And of course, I have the same responsibility as far as their writing goes. The only way words can communicate in a powerful manner is if they are arranged in an orderly way. Imagination, creativity, fluency, and vision are all important qualities of good writing, but none are as important as order. Like my books are arranged in a tidy way on the classroom shelves, I expect my students’ essays to be always assembled in a shipshape manner. And perhaps, if they’re working in an orderly classroom and reading beautifully arranged books, it won’t be all that difficult to produce clear and coherent pieces of writing.

Rembrandt: "Old Man Walking"

This morning I walked over to school to retrieve my bike. (I had left it there yesterday after having it repaired and not wanting to haul it up to Jaimie’s.) I left home at 5:30 in the first early sunlight and surrounded by the graceful music of birds. It was a good walk – almost no traffic and a cooling breeze blowing. It took, as usual, about 1 ¼ hours, and by the time I arrived at the door of the school, I was fairly done-in. I rested for a few moments in the cool of the shade by the front door, and then climbed aboard my bike and coasted back home, just in time to see the Tour de France riders start their horrendous second day in the Alps, featuring, today, a 9-mile climb ! I was glad I was resting in my comfortable chair instead of sitting on a bike climbing some merciless hill.

Ava

Noah and a giant strawberry

Josh and Stacey

Kaylee and Noah at Christmas

Yesterday I had the pleasure of seeing my four grandchildren (see photos) for a few hours. My first stop was in Brooklyn, CT, where it was wonderful to see Noah with his charming new haircut, his bright beaming face prettier than ever. After chatting with Jaimie and Jess for a while, I drove Noah up to visit with Kaylee, Josh, Luke, and Krissy. We hung out at their shady home on Howe Lane, and then Luke and I and the kids went to Barnes and Noble for a few hours of fun. Josh, as usual, was active, buoyant, and happy, while Kaylee entertained Noah like only the best of older cousins do. When I brought Noah back home (he dozed off in the back seat), I had a chance to pay my respects to the adorable Ava Elizabeth (nearly 3 months old now). She studied my face, smiled at me, and even (I swear) talked to me. Looking at her, I realized, for the thousand thousandth time, just how fortunate a granddad I am.

BREEZES AND THOUGHTS

Yesterday a wonderful idea came to me, and I have no idea where it came from. I was sitting in the park thinking about a particular scheduling issue involving my teaching of literature next year, when suddenly, out of the blue, this idea appeared. It immediately seemed perfect, and I guess I congratulated myself for “having” such a brilliant thought. I smiled and sat quite contented for a moment of two, pleased with my intelligence. However, I soon began wondering where in the world – or the universe – this idea came from. It’s too easy to say it came from a small glob of tissue in my skull, because the next question would be, Where did the idea that “it came from a small glob of tissue in my brain” come from? What caused these ideas to spring up at 3:15 on a particular summer afternoon in 2007? How did this fifteen-billion-year-old universe move in such a way as to produce them in Westerly, Rhode Island on July 14? I began to realize, as I sat beneath the spreading shade of the tree, that there is no possible way that I could ever trace any specific thought back to its first beginnings. When I try to map out the path of causes for thoughts, I soon see that I am lost in an endless system of thoughts – a system that seems to have no beginning, and, indeed, no end. It’s as if ideas come, as we say, “from nowhere”. There’s never a start to any thought, and there are no outer boundaries as to how far a thought can continue to grow and be useful in the universe. It follows, of course, that it’s silly to say that an idea is exclusively “mine”. I didn’t “have” this wonderful idea yesterday. It simply arrived, rather like a breeze sometimes arrives out of nowhere on hot summer days.

A 19th Century English Village

From Frank Kermode’s “Afterword” to the Signet edition of Middlemarch:

A quote from a letter by George Eliot, addressing her publisher’s concern that the novel wasn’t coming together: “There is nothing that will be seen to be irrelevant to my design, which is to show the gradual action of ordinary causes rather than exceptional.”

“...the first infallible indication that [Middlemarch] is a masterpiece may well be the tenth chapter, with its intimations of social density and narrative breadth.”

“Celia is satisfied with things as they are, especially such primary things as babies, and if George Eliot believed one thing more than another, it was precisely that such humanly interesting matters were the foundation of virtue and happiness.”

Kermode notes that there are many “researchers” in the novel: Casaubon (mythology) , Lydgate (his medical studies), Mr. Brooke (when he was young), Farebrother (entomology), and Dorothea (her studies to help make life better for the villagers).

Kermode suggests that Ladislaw is a literary failure, an uninteresting caricature, as are some of the minor characters.

“...one sees the variety of techniques by which Eliot demonstrates that no man is an island...No writer has ever represented the ambiguities of moral choice so fully.”

Lydgate is first undone by the professional actress Laure, and later by the amateur, but excellent, play-actress Rosamond.

“Of all social relationships, marriage is the most complex and ambiguous. The marriage of Lydgate and Rosamond is one of the great fictional representations of this.

From an Eliot letter: “It is the habit of my imagination to strive after as full a vision of the medium in which a character moves as of the character itself.”

“We might even allow that her book, without ceasing to be art, does some good. She wanted this, but of course she was clear that she could not produce a Bulstrode among novels, putting things right by philanthropy; her aim was to write books like Dorothea, of ‘incalculably diffusive’ effect, tending ultimately in however small a way to the promotion of social harmony; thus it might be said that because Middlemarch was written, ‘things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been.’”

ISLANDS AND IMAGINATION

Today I spent a few delightful hours reading a book by David Daiches on George Eliot's Middlemarch. Last week, I finished reading the novel (for the second time, after ten years) , and immediately started reading Daiches’ book. I had read the novel with care and attention, but I wasn’t ready just to put it down and walk away (perhaps for another ten years). That, it seemed, would be like visiting a Caribbean island and then simply going home: no photos, no travel dairy, no discussions with other visitors, and – worst of all – no reading of travel books written by island experts. To me, it makes no sense to read a great book and then merely shelve it and move on. The book, like the beautiful island, deserves all the attention I can bring to bear on it. So ... I read, and studied, Professor Daiches’ brief but illuminating book about the novel. It opened my eyes to countless themes, patterns, truths, and literary pearls that I had utterly missed. I felt like I was sitting with a man who really knew this book, and it felt just as wonderful as talking with a long-time island expert after visiting his paradise. Now, I’ve ordered several more books on Middlemarch, and I’ve already started re-visiting, yet again, selected chapters of this celebrated literary “island”.

* * * * *

This morning I read several excellent articles in the travel section of the NY Times, and it occurred to me that I was helping the environment by doing so. Instead of polluting the atmosphere by traveling by car, train, plane, cab, or subway to get to these remote places, I simply sat in my comfortable chair and traveled by means of my imagination. I used no gas, put no foul emissions into the air, and, by picturing the scenes clearly in my imagination, I felt like I was truly there.

Hmmm...not a bad way to travel.

CHABLIS AND SUBWAY

The Tour de France started today in the village of Chablis (see pictures), and passed through Chateau Chinon, where the 9^th graders and I spend a pleasant day a few years ago.

* * * * *

Yesterday evening I rode over to Shaws to get some groceries, and then stopped at Subway to pick up a sandwich for dinner. It was a good ride over a relatively new route, up and down some hidden back-roads of town. I’m not sure I had ever been on some of these streets, so it was good to discover a new part of town. The neighborhoods were peacefully quiet places, and the streets were nearly empty of traffic, which made for a carefree ride. There were some decent hills, though, and I rode up and down a few of them several times, just to give myself a satisfactory workout. The cool air-conditioning of Shaws, and, later, the delicious sandwich at home were fair rewards for a somewhat tiring ride.

* * * * *

Today I read my dictionary and thesaurus for a while. Honestly, I don’t own two more rewarding books. When I feel like slowing down and actually doing some serious thinking, they are the books I go to.

A CLASSROOM COMMUNITY

I’ve been reading a book called Tribes Learning Communities, by Jeanne Gibbs, and it’s added considerable fuel to my commitment to establish more of a sense of community and collaboration in my classes next year. Over the years, I’ve heard or read about most of the concepts she discusses, but it’s been good for me to review them this summer, especially since I’ve almost completely lost touch with the importance of community in a classroom. My classroom is a place of competition more than cooperation. My students work separately and independently way more than they work collaboratively. What this book (and some of the others I’ve read this summer) is telling me is that learning how to collaborate, join forces, and work together is a skill my students simply must learn if they are to be successful members of society. I need to continue being the leader and guide in the classroom, but I also need to give my students many more opportunities to be a part of peer-groups that discuss, listen, plan, cooperate, and get things done. That’s probably my major goal for the coming year – more collaboration, more teamwork, more community.

--July 11, 2007

FLAT AND SHADY

Yesterday I discovered a new bike route that will be perfect for those days when I want to climb absolutely no hills. I rode across the bridge into Pawcatuck, where I found two flat and shady streets that each stretched for many blocks. I rode back and forth on them for a good thirty minutes, going as fast as I could (maybe 19 mph) on the straightaways and then coasting and recovering on the turnarounds. It was a delightful way to get some serious exercise without the irritation of hot sunshine and steep hills. True, I was exhausted at the end of the workout, but somehow it was a happier, more acceptable exhaustion than I feel after toiling on the pitiless hills in my part of the world.

-- July 11, 2007

Today I watched stage 4 of the Tour de France, a rolling stage through the Champagne and Brie regions to the east of Paris. It was a fairly uneventful stage – just a few breakaway riders followed by the smoothly-sailing peloton. As usual, I loved the look of the idyllic scenery. The riders passed through one charming, old-fashioned village after another and moved past countless quiet pastures with livestock lounging and wondering what all the excitement was about. Just before the finish line, the peloton passed through the beautiful town of Villeneuve-sur-Yonne, founded in 1163 by Louis VII to protect the kingdom of France at the boundary of the Champagne. It is still surrounded by a partly intact wall. In 1204 Philippe Auguste held parliament in the city, and Saint Louis resided in the city before departing for the Eighth Crusade. During the French Revolution the name was changed from le-Roi (the king) to sur-Yonne (on the River Yonne). The race today finished at the town of Joigny, the gateway to Burgundy, an attractive village 80 miles south east of Paris on the banks of the Yonne. A town of some 12,000 population, the historic part is built on the side of a steep hill overlooking the river. Much of its medieval nature has been retained -- narrow cobbled streets, courtyards full of flowers, a number of timber-framed 15th and 16th century buildings and churches, and the gate of St. Jean, a remnant of the original fortified city wall. Joigny has its own vineyard and is also on the edge of the Chablis wine growing area. The internationally known Cote St. Jacques restaurant is in Joigny.
Ah, how much I am learning about France as I sit before my TV watching this magnificent bike race!

TOUR WATCHING

For the last few days, I’ve been watching and thoroughly enjoying the Tour de France on television – especially the beauty of it all. The scenery, of course, has been perfectly lovely, from the historic streets of London, to the squeezed-in country roads of England, to the bucolic countryside in northern France. I really think I don’t care as much about the race as about the beautiful picture of hundreds of riders winding through a charming landscape. It’s an eye-catching travelogue with a fairly famous bike race thrown in. Almost as much as the scenery, I love just watching the riders in all their colorful uniforms. I can’t think of another sport where as many as ten different teams compete simultaneously, each wearing distinct, multicolored outfits. Strangely, their shirts and pants never seem the least bit soiled or wrinkled, but seem to always glow with crisp brightness as the riders roll past the cameras. It’s a true spectacle, this three week bicycle race – one that I’ve enjoyed for many years. Yes, it’s consumed a few of my hours these last few days, but it’s more than just an agreeable pastime. I actually find it motivating. Each day, after watching the riders race their hardest along the English and French roads, I’ve taken to my own bike and put in a few racing miles myself along the picturesque country roads near my house.

HIKING, BLUEBERRIES, CREAM

The last two days I left my bike at home and hiked up and down the stairs in the park for exercise. I loaded my pack with weights and went early in the morning, when the park is at its serene best. The darkness beneath the big trees was cool and comforting as I walked, and the songs of the early birds gave me an inspirational boost. With a substantial weight on my back, good thoughts in my heart, and the coolest air of the summer around me, my exercise sessions were dreams come true. The reward at the end was special, too: a tall cup of coffee accompanied by a bowl filled with Grapenuts, blueberries, and cold light cream.

Ideas from

Making the Journey: Being and Becoming a Language Arts Teacher

by Leila Christenbury

1. The Questioning Circle (p 245-) This is a Venn diagram scheme for encouraging questioning in class. It consists of three overlapping circles, labeled “the matter”, “personal reality”, and “external reality”. The black area where all three areas overlap would be the most significant questions, the “higher order” questions.

2. Good questioning behaviors (p 250-)

a. arrange the class so students can see each others

b. learn about “wait time” and practice it

c. give students time with their own answers

d. give students your complete attention when they answer

e. have kids talk to each other, not just you

f. exhibit a pleasant facial expression and attentive body posture

g. be aware of the consequences of praise

h. use students answers to focus or extend discussion

i. let students (not you) repeat their own answers

j. watch student body language and behavior

k. make it a goal to call on every student every day

3. National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) Standards for the English Language Arts:

1. Students read a wide range of print and

nonprint texts to build an understanding of texts, of themselves, and of the cultures of the United States and the world; to acquire new information; to respond to the needs and demands of society and the workplace; and for personal fulfillment. Among these texts are fiction and nonfiction, classic and contemporary works.

2. Students read a wide range of literature from many periods in many genres to build an understanding of the many dimensions (e.g., philosophical, ethical, aesthetic) of human experience.

3. Students apply a wide range of strategies to comprehend, interpret, evaluate, and appreciate texts. They draw on their prior experiences, their interactions with other readers and writers, their knowledge of word meaning and of other texts, their word identification strategies, and their understanding of textual features (e.g., sound-letter correspondence, sentence structure, context, graphics).

4. Students adjust their use of spoken, written, and visual language (e.g., convention, style, vocabulary) to communicate effectively with a variety of audiences and for different purposes.

5. Students employ a wide range of strategies as they write and use different writing process elements appropriately to communicate with different audiences for a variety of purposes.

6. Students apply knowledge of language structure, language conventions (e.g., spelling and punctuation), media techniques, figurative language, and genre to create, critique, and discuss print and nonprint texts.

7. Students conduct research on issues and interests by generating ideas and questions, and by posing problems. They gather, evaluate, and synthesize data from a variety of sources (e.g., print and nonprint texts, artifacts, people) to communicate their discoveries in ways that suit their purposes and audience.

8. Students use a variety of technological and informational resources (e.g., libraries, databases, computer networks, video) to gather and synthesize information and to create and communicate knowledge.

9. Students develop an understanding of and respect for diversity in language use, patterns, and dialects across cultures, ethnic groups, geographic regions, and

social roles.

10. Students whose first language is not Enghsh make use of their first language to develop competency in the English language arts and to develop understanding

of content across the curriculum.

11. Students participate as knowledgeable, reflective, creative, and critical members of a variety of literacy communities.

12. Students use spoken, written, and visual language to accomplish their own purposes (e.g., for learning, enjoyment, persuasion, and the exchange of information).