"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).

SUNGLASSES

Today he bought

a pair of sunglasses.

He didn’t purchase a house

in sunlit Arizona,

nor did he sail across the sea,

nor create a sensation

with his poems and stories.

He simply purchased sunglasses

at CVS for seventeen dollars.

When he put them on,

he saw the loveliness of things.

Riding his bicycle

with these glasses,

the streets grew magnificent,

and the trees he passed

were the prettiest ever.

The praise more often

goes to seas that glisten

or the glamorous stars above us,

but, coasting down Spring Street,

he gave a shout

for his CVS sunglasses.

Thoughts gleaned from

Adolescent Literacy:

Turning Promise into Practice

1. A teacher must create a safe place for the students and educate them. A teacher is essentially “flying blind”, but he or she still cranks up the props each day and takes ‘er up. That’s how you leave no child behind.

2. I, and many teachers, are “digital immigrants” – total newcomers to a world our students feel very comfortable in.

3. The dimensions of understanding: When we understand, we

a. concentrate intensively

b. dwell in ideas

c. struggle for insight

d. manipulate our own thoughts to understand more completely

e. explore as renaissance learners

f. discuss

g. create models to help us remember

h. feel, because our experience is enriched when we have emotional connections

4. Good teachers

a. model how proficient readers frequently reread and rethink

b. show students how readers pick and choose among portions of the text to explore more deeply

c. teach kids about metacognition – thinking about one’s own thinking

d. introduce kids to a more intellectual life

e. engage in regular, lively, individual written correspondence with each student (get a mailbox for the teacher and one for each student) – ten points for completing a letter, zero for not

5. Metacognition involves

a. monitoring for meaning

b. using and creating schemata (??)

c. asking questions

d. determining importance

e. inferring

f. using sensory and emotional images

g. synthesis (creating an evolution of meaning, combining understanding with knowledge from other texts and sources)

(from p. 36)

6. Talking -- we need to make the teaching of discussion a significant part of the curriculum – have serious conversations

7. FLAT WORLD TEACHING (ch. 10 - study this chapter!) – help students become

a. collaborators and orchestrators (USE BACKPACK.COM)

b. synthesizers

c. explainers

d. leveragers

e. adapters

f. green people

g. personalizers

h. localizers

8. The importance of choice (p. 209-)

9. Develop a class blog (wikispaces.com)

10. Encourage student readers and writers to think of themselves as apprentices on their way to becoming experts.

11. Thinking Maps (p. 253)

12. Seven Characteristics of Effective Comprehension Teachers – see p. 279 – very important!

WAVES AND THOUGHTS

As I was sitting at the beach yesterday, I began to consider the similarity between breaking waves and thoughts. There was undoubtedly immense power in the waves I was watching, just as there is in thoughts. I’m often unmindful of the massive force of each thought, but it’s there, just as surely as it is in every wave. Every few moments, a powerful wave came tumbling ashore, and almost every moment a new thought unfurls its power in my life. As I sat on the beach, I realized something particularly interesting: that I have no idea where a wave starts nor where a thought begins. If I try to trace a wave back to its origin, I pretty quickly get lost in the infinite cycles of waves and winds, and I get equally lost in attempting to pin down the precise starting point of a thought. Searching back, all I find is another thought, and another thought, and another thought, with no end ever in sight. I can only conclude that there is no specific origin of a thought, nor of a wave. They each happen in totally mysterious ways and for totally mysterious reasons. These thoughts led me to another understanding – that neither a wave nor a thought exists as a separate entity. Waves and thoughts are both part of endlessly complex systems that began back at the original “big bang”, and probably long before that. To say that a particular thought is “mine” is as silly as saying that one wave on one specific morning is separate from the infinite arrangement of world-wide waves and winds. Waves and thoughts, I realized as I sat on the sand, are powerful in thoroughly unfathomable ways.

-- July 8, 2007

THE UNIVERSE ON A BIKE

As I was racing along on my bike this morning, trying to cover a certain distance faster than I ever have, I suddenly realized that I was a “self-ish” rider, and that it was causing me to be a less capable rider than I might be. I realized that I was caught in the belief that a 65 year old separate individual was pushing the bike along, and that this individual had to do it all by himself and therefore should get all the credit. I was thinking that a “self” called Ham was single-handedly battling against the bike, the wind, and his own body in order to achieve some undefined prize. What I had been forgetting is that there is, in fact, no separate individual pushing the bike along, because there is no separate thing anywhere in the universe. As ecology should have taught me years ago, everything in the universe is connected. The universe, as its name implies, is not many, but just one. It’s a unified, never-ending force that always works harmoniously, and the so-called individual bike rider named Ham is merely one expression of that force. What’s wonderful about this truth is that it helps me see how powerful a bike ride can really be. If the rider is an expression of the vast universe, then the universe itself is actually doing the riding, the pedaling, the pushing, the exerting. The so-called separate, limited, self-centered rider named Ham is a myth. The sooner I get him out of the saddle and let the universe do the riding, the swifter and smoother the rides will be.

-- July 7, 2007

I just returned from a very satisfying trip to Fire Island (a barrier island just off Long Island) where I spent a few days with Cat and her family, and also Annie and Gabe.

On Tuesday I took the ferry from New London out to Orient Point. It was a smooth ride all the way on dead flat water under a clearing morning sky. I had my usual egg sandwich (not all that tasty this time), and then sat on the top deck and did some quiet thinking. The peaceful look of the broad expanse of water made it very easy to enjoy the productive thoughts that arose as the breeze passed down the deck. After driving down Long Island to Bayshore and taking a short ride on the ferry, Cat met me at the Dunewood dock and we spent a bright and cheerful afternoon together on the beach. Gabe and Kino romped in the surf and chased and teased a girl while Cat and I caught up on things. It was delightfully cool, which made sitting out in the sun for a few hours especially agreeable. We talked of many things, but our focus, as it often is, was on spiritual topics. Being with her was like drinking at the fountain. Around six, Gabe and Annie came out from the city on the ferry, and we enjoyed a pleasant evening with good conversation, barbecued chicken, cold Mexican beer, and an early lights out.

Wednesday, the 4^th, was overcast and squally, but we totally enjoyed ourselves. (Almost any weather is just the thing when you’re at the beach.) I took my traditional early morning walk down to the small market in Fair Harbor, where I bought an appetizing cup of coffee, a donut, and a Times, and then sat on the dock watching the morning light slowly assert itself across the bay. It’s a small ritual, but it’s one of the best things about my annual visit to the island. We spent the rest of the day talking, taking walks on the beach, enjoying fine food, and even taking short naps. It was true “quality time”, whatever we happened to be doing. I loved every second of it. After a tasty pizza dinner (delivered to us by young Gabe on his bike), we walked to the ocean beach to see if there were any fireworks going off down at the Fair Harbor beach. It was a wild night of high winds and crashing surf, and all we could see down the beach in the darkness was a searchlight occasionally crossing the windy sky. We decided to walk across the island to the bay beach, hoping we might glimpse some July 4^th festivities far over on the mainland. What we saw was a rare spectacle – a line of perhaps twenty separate fireworks displays all across the distant shore of Long Island. We could barely make out the muffled sounds of the bombs exploding, but we could clearly see the various starry displays as they shot up into the summer darkness. We watched for probably fifteen minutes as first one and then another rocket exploded in the air across the water. None of us had ever seen such an exhibition – so many “bombs bursting in air” at the same time and separated by such distances.

There was a grand thunderstorm through most of the night, but, in between wakeups from the storm, I slept very well. (For me, the sound of steady, soaking rain is even more sleep-inducing than a glass of wine.) In the morning, I again enjoyed my big cup of coffee from the market, and we all had some excellent morning conversations under the still stormy-looking sky. I said my goodbyes to Cat and the boys around 9:30, and Annie and Gabe walked me to the dock where I caught the ferry back to Bayshore, and eventually to my little apartment in Westerly.

THE WAY TO GO

On his bike

he tries to work

with the wind.

If it blows west,

he says that’s where

he loves to go.

If it turns east,

it's easy for him

to head for the sea.

Taking a tip

from the wind

is the way to go.

A great breath

of beautiful southern wind

sends his handlebars happily south.

A push north

by the wind

is a good reason

to roll his wheels

toward snowy woods

that wave

when the wind does.

This morning, a refreshingly cool one, I chose, for exercise, to climb hills in the park rather than ride my bike. I loaded my backpack with weights and walked up and down the grassy slopes for about 40 minutes. Being Sunday morning, there was almost no one in the park, and I enjoyed the silence and solitude of the place. It was a lovely morning: a fresh breeze was passing among the trees, and sunlight lit up places here and there.

* * * * *

Later in the day I spent a few hours up at Jaimie and Jessy’s with Noah, Ava, and Luke. We ate lunch on the outdoor table, sitting beneath the splendid trees swaying in the breeze. Jaimie had Ava against his chest, and soon, after a bit of squirming and wriggling, her eyes closed in peaceful sleep. We others talked and laughed, and then Noah demonstrated his skill on his new batting tea. He would hit the ball and try to run to a tree before I could tag him. Luke played, too, but he banged the ball far into the poison ivy, which earned him many hoots and boos.

* * * * *

On the drive home, I noticed the great clarity of everything. The clouds were sharply outlined, as though they each had distinct edges, and I almost felt like I could see individual grass blades along the road.

This morning I spent an ideal few hours at the beach. It seemed like a perfect morning in every way – textbook breezes beneath a flawless blue sky. I rode my bike out around 8:30, just taking my time and enjoying the wonderful weather. The beach was nearly deserted (even when I left around 11:00), as if it was my own personal paradise. I sat under my rainbow-painted umbrella, re-read a few chapters from Middlemarch, and occasionally took in the unspoiled look of this remarkable place that’s just down the road from my apartment.

I’ve gained some interesting insights lately from Adolescent Literacy, a book I’ve been reading this summer.

First, the negative:

In several articles about the teaching of writing, I again came across an attitude that befuddles and annoys me. The gist of it is that writing teachers should not be “teachers”, but should rather be listeners, suggesters, questioners, helpers, coaches, and friends. The implication is that teachers of writing should be unlike teachers of other skills. A welding teacher, I’m sure, demonstrates how to do various specific welding tasks, and then assigns the students the same tasks. The welding teacher is not afraid to establish guidelines, give assignments, and hold students accountable for completing the assignments as assigned. Why is it that so many writing teachers don’t want to do this? One author I read today even went so far as to say that writing teachers should NOT give assignments, but should allow his students to make their own assignments! Can you imagine what would happen in a welding class if this procedure was followed? (For one thing, a lot of students might get badly burned.)

Now for the positive:

Robert Probst discussed the importance of intelligent conversation in the classroom, and suggested that this skill needs to be taught. I couldn’t agree more.

Jim Burke discussed the skills our students will need to compete in the “flat” world of the future. Students will need to be collaborators and orchestrators, synthesizers, explainers, leveragers, adapters, green people, personalizers, and localizers – and we English teachers need to allow students to practice these roles in our classrooms. I’m going to study Burke’s ideas very carefully in the next few weeks. (I especially like a website he gave, for the National School Reform Faculty – nsrfharmony.org. It’s filled with very helpful ideas for teachers. One of the best is “chalk talk”, where a silent classroom discussion is held by inviting students to come to the board and write their comments. )

Yesterday, I finished re-reading George Eliot’s Middlemarch, and I’m seriously considering starting over at page 1 and re-reading parts of it yet again. I first read this beautiful novel about 15 years ago, but it seemed many times more beautiful on this second reading – and I want to make sure I didn’t miss any of the beauty. If I took a tour of a lovely Caribbean island, I’m sure I would want to go back and re-visit it again, and I guess this book might be my “island” this summer. Last night, when I finished the final page, I immediately went to the front of the book and read the Introduction, and today I’ll start re-exploring the early chapters. I’m also thinking of ordering two or three books about the novel from Amazon. (Wouldn’t I buy a few travel books about an island I was visiting?)

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Yesterday I took an hour-long bike ride north of Westerly on Boombridge Road. There are a few decent hills out that way, so I was able to get a good workout. At one point, as I was cresting a fairly steep hill and trying to catch my breath, some friends pulled up alongside in their car. They waved and said hello, but I’m afraid I could barely gasp out a return greeting. Later, resting in the shade of some trees by a farm, I called them on my cellphone and we laughed about our bike/car meeting on a hilltop.

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In the evening I had dinner with some good friends at a Thai restaurant by the train station. We met in the park, where their 2-year-old grand-daughter enjoyed herself in the cooling evening air, and then we walked to the restaurant, where we spent a friendly hour or so in welcoming surroundings.

It’s a warm morning, 5:20, the fan blowing across the room, cloudy sky outside, a few bird songs.

Yesterday morning I made my first fully-equipped bike excursion to the beach. I strapped my beach umbrella to the bike, loaded my backpack with supplies, and rode out around 8:00. It felt good, as it always does, to park my bike (for free) right next to the beach and have all I need right there for me. I walked about twenty paces and there it was, the pristine and almost empty beach. I stayed for several hours, reading comfortably in the shade of the umbrella and watching the beautiful sea slowly change its colors.

Later I met Jaimie, Noah, and Matt at a small beach in Stonington. This time I set up two umbrellas, and then read a few chapters in a book on teaching (a very good one), examined some small crabs Noah caught, laughed at the little guy’s invincible good cheer, and talked with my sons about teaching. Around five, we went to Stonington Pizza where we enjoyed grinders and more of Noah’s cheeriness.

In the last ten years, I have become more interested in helping my students build up their critical capacities than in helping them become more creative. My changing beliefs are well-expressed in Edith Hamilton’s The Greek Way, where she says that many of the ancient Greeks (especially Euripedes) believed that criticism – the rigorous evaluation of what is right and wrong, good and bad, beautiful and ugly – was far more important than creativity. Euripedes was a critic in the sense of the American Heritage dictionary definition: One who forms and expresses judgments of the merits, faults, value, or truth of a matter – and this is precisely what I want my students to be able to do. Whether they’re examining a chapter of a novel or assessing their own thoughts about a particular essay topic, I want them, most of all, to be able to discriminate – to be able, as the dictionary puts it, to make a clear distinction, distinguish, make sensible decisions, and judge wisely . In that sense, I want them to become critical young people. Creativity is important, yes, but the ability to intelligently criticize – to demonstrate the art of critical thinking – is at the heart of what I’m trying to do as an English teacher.