ONE YEAR WITH AN ENGLISH TEACHER

Day 88, Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Today I discovered two new ways of teaching -- or at least ways I hadn't considered in many years. First, instead of sitting or standing at my place on the circle and conducting the business of the class mostly from there, I roamed around the circle, sometimes stopping in one place for a few moments before moving on. Among other benefits, this gave me many different views of the group. Obviously (why didn't I think of this before?), if I'm always at the same place on the circle, I'm going to miss seeing some of the kids straight-on -- miss seeing their expressions clearly, their postures, their whole demeanor. By walking around the circle, I was able to see the students from different perspectives. It was a refreshing and instructive change. I also discovered that I could effectively teach from the middle of the circle. In one 8th grade class, I stood in the middle for a few minutes, turning here and there to talk to individuals or listen to their comments. It got me up closer to some of the kids so I could really give them my full attention.

Audio Moblog

powered by Hipcast.com

ONE YEAR WITH AN ENGLISH TEACHER
Day 87, January 29, 2008

I realized today that our 'breaks' during class give me a good opportunity to talk informally with students. We took a five minute break at the end of one class, during which I was able to pay some compliments to three students. I called them over to where I was sitting and told them quietly that I admired their work during class, and then I gave them each a special sticker. Without the break, I would have had to do this very quickly and briefly, with much less of a personal touch.

……………………………

In some of the classes today, I was initially disappointed by the lack of participation in our discussion of Our Town. However, as I was beginning to feel a bit discouraged about how things were going, I suddenly realized that some of the kids were participating quite energetically. While I had been focusing on the quiet, unresponsive students, I had failed to notice the active and involved ones. Margaret was one of these. She was thoroughly enjoying herself as she shared one intelligent comment after another about last night's reading assignment. She made sagacious connections between the play and other readings, and she built upon the comments of others. Mayzie also was attentive throughout the discussion and made several very intelligent comments. In a 9th grade class, Jonathan and Salina were the stars. They continually added their insights to the discussion, and I think they grew more and more proud of themselves as the minutes passed. Yes, many (most?) of the students were fairly detached and disinterested today, but luckily that didn't prevent me from noticing the enthusiastic participation by a few of them.

ONE YEAR WITH AN ENGLISH TEACHER

Day 86, Monday, January 28, 2008

I was impressed today with Georgia's demeanor during the time that she served as "assistant teacher". I was prepared for a little silliness from her, since she inclines that way (though never during class). I was even thinking of reminding her before class to not be silly, but as soon as she began speaking, I knew I didn't have to. I was pleasantly surprised by her serious attitude while she sat at my desk and ran the class. She spoke with dignity and authority, and she moved the class through the steps of the lesson quite efficiently. Once again I underestimated the abilities of a student. That's one of my greatest weaknesses as a teacher -- undervaluing my students talents and strengths, not giving them enough credit for being the wise and gifted people they are.

Audio Moblog

powered by Hipcast.com

I woke up this morning eager to “accomplish” things. I wanted to do this, that, and a dozen other tasks. I wanted to do an excellent meditation, get the proper reading done before I go to school, keep my mind focused, remember the important truths about life, and generally make myself into as excellent a human being as possible. Do, do, do. Make, make, make. I wanted to be a doing-and-making machine. Unfortunately, that would also involve being an ‘escape’ machine. What I really wanted to do, I realize now, was escape from the present moment. I wanted to keep so busy doing and making things, setting goals and striving toward them, reaching and grabbing and holding, that I would never have to simply rest in the present moment. It was like the present moment, the utterly perfect present moment exactly the way it is, was my enemy instead of my always best friend. Luckily, I understood my folly fairly quickly this morning, and before long I was back where I should always be – in the here-and-now, the only place and time there ever will be. The present moment never ‘seems’ perfect to me, but the truth is that it’s all I’ve got or ever will have. It’s where all reality is, and therefore where all power is. No matter what’s happening in the present moment, it has exactly what I need, what I was born for, what the universe has carefully prepared for me. Today I hope I can wake up and accept this great gift, moment after moment after moment.

Audio Moblog

powered by Hipcast.com

ONE TEACHER’S ALPHABET

V is for View

One benefit I’ve received from having taught for four decades is that I’ve been able, gradually, to get a wider and more comprehensive view of what this whole ‘teaching and learning’ thing is about, and I see now that the view is astonishingly vast. When I was younger, I’m afraid I had a rather myopic view of my work, sort of like tunnel-vision. Everything seemed to happen in a very small arena (about the size of my classroom, actually), and my job was simply to control all the little events that occurred in that small showground where I put my students through their English ‘paces’. I was the boss -- the trainer -- and I thought I knew exactly what was good for my students and what wasn’t. If an activity seemed ‘right’ to me, I put it into the plan; if it seemed ‘wrong’, I rejected it. It was a small teaching world for me back then, and I seemed to be able to control it all quite capably. What I realize now, looking back after 40 years, is that I was operating then like a man living in a tiny house with no windows in the middle of the Grand Canyon. I simply had no idea how immense, how infinite, how inscrutable this teaching business really is. Now, as I gaze out from my senior citizen vantage point, I see the endless possibilities for instruction, the limitless number of roads a teacher can take, the immeasurable number of ripples sent out by even the briefest lesson, the vast distances that stretch out forever when you’re involved in teaching human beings. To modify an old saying, “I’ve seen it all and it’s absolutely astounding.” It’s also humbling, in a very big way. Now, I’m not at all sure I know exactly what’s ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ for my students in their English education. I have hunches, yes, but – honestly – that’s all they are. When you’re faced with the Grand Canyon each day, you get the feeling that you actually don’t know all that much. As I begin a day of teaching, even with a carefully planned set of lessons I almost feel like crossing my fingers, knocking on wood, gritting my teeth, and saying to myself, “Good luck, Ham. Hope you find the right path.”

Audio Moblog

powered by Hipcast.com

ONE YEAR WITH AN ENGLISH TEACHER

Day 85, Friday, January 25, 2008

Today we had exams, and during one of the 8th grade tests, I listened on my iPod to the lovely allegro movement of Beethoven's violin sonata #5. It was, to say the least, a strange experience -- listening to such beatific music while my students were laboring through a painful exam. Every so often I would pause the music -- the exquisite playing of the violin and piano -- and look out at my stern-faced, hunched-over students as they scratched away at their exams. In my music there was harmony and perfection; in the faces of my students there was tension and torture. The music was heaven for me, while the exam was obviously a little like hell for the students.

…………………………..

On Fridays, we sometimes play a song toward the end of class, and the kids listen and do a little creative (we call it 'freestyle') writing stemming from the song. Today, at Jeena's suggestion, we listened to "Bowl of Oranges" by Bright Eyes. It's an unusual and puzzling piece, and some of the kids quickly got lost trying to understand where the song was going. Others, though, (including me) enjoyed it a lot, and soon I saw pencils skimming over their papers. As they wrote and listened, I studied and annotated the lyrics (we had printed copies), and found more and more interesting ideas buried there. After a few minutes, I read their writings aloud (anonymously), as I always do, and as usual, some of them were tender, lyrical, and profound. It's a little bit of magic that happens every Friday in my room.

Audio Moblog

powered by Hipcast.com

AN ADVENTURE

One day he decided

to make friends with power.

So he carried his briefcase

with concern and kindliness,

courteously held

all the essays he read,

and studied the momentous mysteries

in the words

his students spoke.

He walked slowly

so as to listen

to the music his shoes made.

When he sat,

he sat like it was

an occasion of state,

like the chair was chosen

from the very best.

When he looked at his

colleagues and students,

he saw kings and queens

from distant, shadowy lands.

Audio Moblog

powered by Hipcast.com

PERFECTION

This morning he knows

that everything is in its place.

The police station is where it should be,

as is the little library,

as are the streetlights,

as are the cars that came

to their proper positions last night

and rested there.

His school is stretched out on its hill,

as it always is,

and his classroom is quietly letting itself

be carried through space

in its assigned place on the planet.

Even the pencil on his desk

hasn’t moved, hasn’t tried

to do something better for its life

other than simply lying

just where he left it.

Audio Moblog

powered by Hipcast.com

ONE YEAR WITH AN ENGLISH TEACHER

Day 84, Thursday, January 24, 2008

A metaphor for today: Scotch tape

I wonder if I could be like Scotch tape today. Tape can be used to attach one thing to another, and perhaps I can help attach a few helpful ideas to my students today -- ideas that might otherwise float to the ground and be forgotten. Scotch tape can also repair things -- for example, putting a ripped piece of paper together again -- and maybe today I can help a few of the students repair their self-confidence, which probably gets torn up quite often in their young, vulnerable lives. And finally, a dispenser of Scotch tape most often simply sits on my desk -- sometimes for days -- just waiting patiently to be of help. Similarly, my most important as a teacher may well be to just stand by, day after day -- geared up, equipped, and ready to help at a moment's notice.

………………………………….

During a free period this morning, I watched some of the videotape from an earlier class, and I'm glad I did, because I noticed two helpful things. First, the camera was on Damien several times, and it was obvious, as I watched, that he was being very attentive to the conversation. At one point, his eyebrows rose and his head leaned forward as someone made a point, and then he quickly responded with a very intelligent comment. It was good to see this boy -- who has often struggled in class -- behaving like a model student. The camera also showed Lucy admitting to the class that she hadn't done her reading last night. She said it at one point in the discussion, simply mentioning, bravely and forthrightly, that she hadn't done the reading. She had told me this before class (as I ask the students to always do), but when I saw it again on the video, I appreciated the fact that she could be so honest with her class about this academic 'failure'. She is an excellent student, so it must have been hard for her to own up to not being perfect. I also admired the way the class handled it on the video: they simply accepted what she said (after all, we all make mistakes) and moved on with the discussion.

…………………

In one class today, as I was beginning to get discouraged about the way things were going, I began, for some reason, to compliment the kids. I told them this was an unusual play and I thought they were handling it quite well, and I told several individuals they were being very attentive students. I also complimented the 'assistant teacher' for doing a fine job. Later, I realized that those compliments actually helped to dissipate my feelings of discouragement. Because I had turned the focus away from me (and whether I was being a good teacher or not), and concentrated instead on praising the good in the students, everything had slowly lightened up. The burden of being a 'good' teacher fell completely away and all that was left was the integrity and success of my students.

Remedy for self-pity: Focus on the good in others.

ONE YEAR WITH AN ENGLISH TEACHER

Day 83, Wednesday, January 23, 2008

6:28 a.m.

Metaphor of the Day: An Iceberg

This morning it came to me, as it very often has, that I know almost nothing about my students -- or about teaching, for that matter. I've been a teacher for over 40 years (starting in 1965!), and yet I feel, quite honestly, like I have as much to learn about this inscrutable profession as I did when I started. It's as if teaching is an immense iceberg, and I've merely been exploring what appears above the surface for all these years -- and what's below the surface just keeps growing! It's a little dispiriting I guess, but also, strangely exhilarating. I feel like an explorer still in the heady first stages of a stirring adventure.

…………………………………………..

2:35 p.m.

During one of the classes today, a girl was talking to me (and the class) and I was looking directly at her, as I instruct the students to do when someone is speaking. However, at one point, the thought came to me to look down at my lesson plans to see what I was supposed to do next. While she was still talking, I looked down at my notes for maybe 10 seconds, but I quickly realized my mistake. The girl was trying to express her thoughts to her teacher, and her teacher was looking down, trying to think of what he wanted to say next! It was a dumb mistake (typical of many adults, I'm afraid), and I apologized for it to the girl and the class. Tomorrow I will try once again to give my full attention to each student who is speaking -- and I will expect, of course, the same from my students.

Audio Moblog

powered by Hipcast.com

Audio Moblog

powered by Hipcast.com

IGNORANCE

He doesn’t know

where his thoughts come from,

or why a snowstorm

waits this morning

just outside his door,

or which dancing moment

will make him happiest today.

He doesn’t dare try to understand

the serenity he feels

flowing beneath all things,

or the beauty that bathes

even his coffee cup,

even the spoon that lifts

the cereal to his mouth.

The book of truths

is closed to him,

but he loves the way it looks

lying before him.

ONE YEAR WITH AN ENGLISH TEACHER

Day 82

6:42 a.m.

The Metaphor for the Day: A Breeze

Maybe I'd like to be like a breeze today. A breeze usually refreshes, revives, enlivens, and invigorates, which is what a teacher should be able to do for his students. The kids come to my class with stresses and worries oppressing them, and maybe English class could whisk some of those pressures away. The students might "perk up" during my class the way we do when a breeze floats past on a stifling summer day. It's interesting to note, too, that a breeze can't be hurt or stopped. Ever try hitting a breeze? Put a blockade up, and a breeze will deftly sidle around it. Teachers sometimes feel hurt or frustrated by their work, but a teacher who's like a breeze just keeps fluttering along, around, under, over, and through. Nothing is a big problem to a breeze -- or to the kind of teacher I hope to be today.

………………………………………..

3:17 p.m

Today, in one class, I spoke to a student in a slightly harsh tone. It may have gone unnoticed by the class, and perhaps by this student -- but I noticed the harshness as soon as I spoke. As I recall, I was anxious to move on to a new part of the lesson when this student raised his hand, and the mild severity in my words to him was due, I think, to my frustration about being thwarted in my attempt to move on. The harshness was subtle, but I definitely noticed it. I must continue to work on speaking gently at all times. In the classroom, there is never an excuse for a severe or abrasive note in my voice.

Audio Moblog

powered by Hipcast.com

During a break in my teaching schedule the other day, I felt particularly weighed down with all the things I had "to do". For some reason, though, instead of starting to do some of these tasks, I just stood at a window in my classroom and looked outside. I guess I must have stood there for a good 10 minutes, very quietly, almost motionless, just watching and listening. It wasn't long before I realized that the universe was doing plenty of things, all with no help from me. Melting snow was dripping from the eaves, the leaves in bushes were shaking in a breeze, children were coming down the walkway, and far off, an airplane was humming along to somewhere -- and I was of no help at all. Not only that, my heart was beating, my lungs were operating quite well, and I guess most of the zillion cells in my body were efficiently doing the zillion tasks that they're supposed to do -- and I was simply standing and doing nothing. I was of no help. I wasn't needed. It was clear that the universe was taking good care of itself.

When I returned to my desk to begin one of my tasks, I'm pretty sure I had a smile on my face.

Audio Moblog

powered by Hipcast.com

It’s been a frosty weekend – temperatures in the teens and twenties and a frozen wind nearly always blowing. I stayed indoors mostly, snuggled in my balmy apartment with books and student essays.

...........................................

This morning, as I hiked up and down Granite Street, the look of the various kinds of light was interesting. There was, of course, the swollen and grayish full moon above everything, shining in its unassuming way. Then there were the streetlights and their swaths of light across the street and sidewalks, plus the several lights in windows of early risers, plus the headlights of the occasional passing motorist. The day was still very dark, but I had ample lighting to lead me through my morning exercise.

Audio Moblog

powered by Hipcast.com

ONE TEACHER’S ALPHABET

C is for Candle flame

In the winter, I often eat breakfast by candlelight, and this morning, as I was observing the small flame in the candle on the table, it got me thinking that it might be good for a teacher to be like that flame. First of all, the flame is flexible, a quality that is immensely helpful to a teacher. The flame constantly wavers as the tiniest air currents pass around it, and I must do the same in my classroom as the currents of thoughts and behaviors circulate around me. It’s interesting that the definition of the word waver includes “to vary or fluctuate” and “to change from a previous opinion”, which suggest the good teacher’s ability to be creatively adaptable as circumstances in the classroom alter (as they constantly do). I also noticed that the candle flame on my table gave off a very soft light, and that, too, reminded me of teaching. The light that emanates from a teacher should never be a glaring, obtrusive light, the kind that either blinds students or makes the teacher the center of attention. Rather, a teacher should simply be a steady but unassuming light that makes it possible for the students to “see” the subject matter more clearly – the kind of soft, suffusing light that one tends to not even notice. Finally, as I looked more closely, I could see that the candle flame was actually transparent and insubstantial. There wasn’t anything solid there, just a fluttering pattern of light and heat, and, in a sense, a teacher shouldn’t be anything “solid” either, for teaching is not about the teacher. A teacher should have an ego the size and substance of a candle flame. As their English teacher for one year, I’m merely one of the countless lights that will shine on my students’ lives. Hopefully I can help to illuminate their path for nine months before I watch them walk away at the end of the year. Like the flame of the candle on my breakfast table this morning, my job as a teacher is simply to bring a soft, supportive light into their young lives.

ONE YEAR WITH AN ENGLISH TEACHER

Day 81, Friday, January 18, 2008

6: 34 a.m.

Metaphor of the Day: Breathing

Today I want to keep in mind that, in a strange way, the thinking that goes on in my classroom is a lot like breathing. Today my students and I will be thinking and expressing hundreds of ideas during class, and we will simultaneously be listening to and taking in each other's ideas. Giving out, taking in. Giving out, taking in. Our ideas will mingle in the air and then enter each other's minds, much as our breath will mingle and mix all day long. We'll breathe in oxygen and breathe out carbon dioxide, and we'll give out ideas and take new ideas in. Give out, take in. Give out, take in.

……………………………..

3:17 p.m.

I noticed some discreet smiling and silent giggling during one of the classes, and, disappointingly, I let it upset me. I controlled myself and didn't react or confront the girls (they quickly stopped), but I'm disappointed that their behavior unsettled me for a moment. Their behavior was inappropriate, yes, but that doesn't mean it should disturb me. Improper conduct needs to come to a quick stop, but that can happen without me losing any of my sense of calmness. I shouldn't get upset when I have to turn down the burner on my stove at home, and likewise I shouldn't get upset when I have to quietly insist that my students behave with perfect decorum.

………………………………………..

This afternoon, another one of my lesson plans fell fairly flat. It wasn't a total disaster, but what I hoped would happen (kids smiling, getting excited, wildly raising their hands) didn't happen. A few kids benefited from the lesson, but just as many seemed like they were on a faraway planet during much of the class.

After that class I had a free period, and at the start, I was feeling pretty downcast as I paced around my empty classroom. However, something strange happened. For some reason, I soon began to think of all the other teachers -- the hundreds and thousands and even millions -- who have experienced the same sense of "failure" that I was feeling. I pictured them in my mind, their discouraged faces and forlorn postures -- these teachers who simply tried to interest their students but failed. Before long, I almost felt like they were there with me in my classroom, and we were all supporting each other in our mutual dejection. I felt a genuine brotherhood and sisterhood of teaching, as if what I had experienced with the botched lesson had actually opened me up to fellowship with my teacher comrades world-wide. I continued in this line of thinking for quite some time, just relaxing in one of my comforting chairs and thinking about all the thousands of teachers with whom I had, in a sense, joined hands today by failing to be the perfect teacher. In the end, as I started to get things in order for my next class, I almost felt grateful that the lesson had crashed. Who wouldn't be grateful to have a door opened in his heart?

ONE YEAR WITH AN ENGLISH TEACHER

Day 80, Thursday, January 17, 2008

Metaphor of the Day: Bubbles

6: 15 a.m.

Today I want to keep in mind the simple truth that nothing is a big deal. Unfortunately, both my students and I often fall into the habit of thinking that everything is a big deal -- homework, quiz answers, grades, comments in class, behavior, lesson plans, teaching techniques, etc. Somehow, things often grow to appear way more important than they really are. We tend to forget, my students and I, that everything that occurs is actually as ephemeral and trifling as a bubble. The low grade a student received today: in one month, will it really be any more important than a vanished bubble? Last Friday's failed lesson plan: in one year, will I even remember it? Will it have affected the greater good of my life, or the movement of the planets - or will it have long since disappeared like an insubstantial bubble? Even the brilliant ideas that come to all 44 of us now and then: where will those ideas be ten years from now? Somewhere in the infinite space of the universe, just like all the zillions of departed bubbles. This, of course, doesn't mean that my students and I shouldn't take our school work seriously. Of course we should, just as we take playing an important game seriously. We just need to keep in mind that the game, and our school work, is really not a big deal, is as momentary and fleeting as bubbles in a stream, shining in the sunlight one moment and gone the next.

…………………………………..

2:39 p.m.

Today Jessy was the "assistant teacher" in her class, and I was very impressed by her entire demeanor as she carried out her duties. She came to class early and set herself up at my desk, checking my notes to her and making sure she was thoroughly ready to go. When I nodded to her, she promptly got the class started, and then proceeded to lead the students through parts of the lesson plan with dignity and efficiency. I almost had the feeling that she wanted me to stop interrupting so much so she could carry more responsibility. She obviously took great pride in what she was doing. Who knows, maybe I saw the beginning of a future teaching career today.

I read some of Great Expectations aloud to the class yesterday and today, and it reminded me what a powerful experience that can be for kids. Dickens' language is so rich with poetry and meaning, and his characters so dense with motives and idiosyncrasies, that it's almost imperative that as much as possible of his books be read aloud. I enjoyed doing it these past two days, and I loved the way Grace and Luke read when their turn came. They read aloud with poise and flair, as though they've been doing it for years.

ONE YEAR WITH AN ENGLISH TEACHER

Day 79, Wednesday, January 16, 2008

……………………………………….

The Metaphor of the Day: A Basket

6:35 a.m.

I thought I might write each morning, or as often as possible, about a particular metaphor for teaching that I want to keep in mind during the day. This morning I'm thinking of a basket.

Today I want to be like a basket -- a gigantic basket, the world's biggest basket, an infinitely wide basket that will comfortably hold everything. 'Comfortably' is the key word here. Sometimes I feel un-comfortable, in the sense that I feel I can't 'take' -- or hold -- what's happening to me. I feel that my life, my 'basket', is too small, too confined, too limited in space to take in all the tasks and pressures confronting me. Today, however, I want to be a really big basket, one that is so immense that it can easily take in and embrace, even hug, anything that comes my way -- any thoughts, any student words or behavior, any so-called 'bad' circumstances. With my 'basket' that extends beyond the horizons, I will be easily able to accommodate everything that happens at school today. Whatever occurs, I will welcome it warmly, for there's room for one and all. (Note: welcoming something into my roomy basket doesn't necessarily mean approving it -- just embracing it because it's real and is here, now, in front of me. In fact, welcoming it is the best way to eliminate any possibility of its controlling or even troubling me.)

………………………………

2:35 p.m.

Today was a good day for me -- maybe a very good day. It started well and ended well, something that rarely happens for me. Some of the good fortune came from getting to school a bit earlier than usual, which gave me some valuable time to settle myself and get things in order for a productive day -- and a productive day it was. The high point of the day might have been the class when a parent visited. Perhaps having an important visitor helped the kids focus a bit more, helped them feel a certain specialness in the class. Whatever the reasons, the class moved along briskly and somewhat inspiringly, at least for me. It was, I think, one of my best classes of the year.

………………………………

Today I allowed the 9th graders to use the first 10 minutes of class to go over their essays one more time, putting the final finishing touches on. I reminded them of all the requirements, and then, silently and under my supervision, they polished them up. It seemed to work quite well, which makes me wonder if I should do this more often.