Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Want some cheese to go with that whine?

Before you read this, go look at the first paragraph of Kirk's latest blog. What? Too lazy to click that link? Okay, I'll quote it here:
First before I start a blog with a "topic" I would like to say how
completely ludicrous this whole having to have a topic thing is. I actually liked rambling on about my week, and if you knew me you would know that I would like it. And that my blogs happened to be fairly humorous. But now to spite you all who agree with this "topic" madness, my blogs are going to be extremely boring and dozy. (but then again if you knew me you would also know that the boring thing probably won't last,) anyway, on to my blog.

Kirk (and he's surely not the only one) is apparently bothered by this "ludicrous" notion that writing should have a topic. As a writing teacher, that brings a bitter smile to my lips. And a flame of anger flares in my old black heart. Why? Imagine me, sitting in my office at home on a Monday night, dutifully reading each blog posted by everyone in the honors English class. My eyes, bloodshot and bulging, are pulsating, as is my harried brain. I am now reading the 12th entry this week that begins with something like this: Well, I guess I have to do my blog and I don't have anything really interesting to say, so I guess I'll just tell you what I did this weekend.... There are a couple problems with this that I feel justified in pointing out: 1) You don't have to do anything unless you want the honors English credit...and as I've said before, this is the easiest way to get it that I've ever seen. 2) If you don't have anything interesting to say then you need to either not say anything, or create something interesting out of the dullness that apparently is your life. It's a simple policy: Good writing has a point. That doesn't mean you can't discuss what you did over the weekend, but you must do so in order to prove something or illustrate a point about something.

Kirk says (and others surely would too), "I actually liked rambling on about my week...." But guess what: I didn't like reading about it, especially when I'd read about 10 such entries, and it was clear from the tone of all of them that the writing was just a chore, something they wouldn't choose to do in a million years, something that took them away from their otherwise busy and worthwhile schedules. Your voices were clear: This silly writing! What a waste of time! But here's what you need to understand: To any other person, the mere events of your daily life are boring. A journal that reports only such events is cripplingly dull. The reason Anne Frank's diary has commanded the attention of so many is not only because she reported what happened to her while hiding from the Nazis, but because she reflected on the greater meanings of it all. She didn't just report; she arrived at conclusions. And that's what I want you to do in your blogs because that is what you will have to do in your lives beyond school. Writing of this sort is like practice for life, so ask yourself what sort of person you want to be in your life. Do you want to be the arrogant blowhard that thinks everyone in the room wants to hear about the merest details of his life, what he had for breakfast, what flavor toothpaste he uses? Or would you rather be a mover and a shaker, someone who tells stories that change people's opinions and make them find meaning in their own lives? (I hope everyone chooses the latter.) The moral: Write the way you want to be! Project the voice you want others to remember you by. Make a difference.

"...my blogs happened to be fairfly humorous," says Kirk. It has been said that humor is the hardest thing to write. The reason for this is because in order for something to be funny it requires a set up (some exposition), a conflict, and a punch line that includes a surprising or ironic twist. Writing funny things requires more than just reporting something funny that happened to you. It's like when you try to describe such a situation to others and you end up saying, "I guess you had to be there" because no one else seems to think it's as funny as you think it is. In writing, you don't always see the looks on the readers' faces. You don't know for sure if you are presenting the ideas in such a way that the humor comes across. So, my warning on this is more of a question: "When it comes to writing funny things, are you sure you're not the only one laughing?"

"...my blogs are going to extremely boring and dozy." Now there's a powerful opening! If you begin by saying how boring something is about to be, it probably will be. I know that statements like this are as much a defense mechanism (you criticize yourself before anyone else has the chance) as they are a warning, but good writing exudes confidence. Plow ahead! Make your statements! Don't be shy!

So to Kirk and all the other whiners: I don't care what you write as long as it is engaging to read, and the only way that can happen is if it has a point, a thesis, a central idea to bind all your illustrations together. You are more than welcome to continue your journalizing and reporting of events in your life, but at least 500 words a week has to have a such a point.

Here endeth the sermon.

*

Sunday, January 16, 2005

Moving On

Two days before the holiday break, they called twelve teachers to a secret meeting out in one of the portable classrooms. When we arrived in the room, they were waiting for us with a large map of the school, including the new addition, drawn on the board and the news that we twelve would be moving into that new addition very soon. Probably before the end of the semester. And we needed to start getting ready: collecting boxes and packing them, taking down posters, cleaning out cabinets. The time was soon, they said.

Well, here it is four weeks later and two days before the beginning of a new semester -- a perfect time to change classrooms because most students will have a new schedule anyway and most of us have completely stripped our rooms and begun moving things to the new addition already -- and they are telling us that we still can't move. Why? They don't have an acceptable answer for that question, and none of them dare to ask it of their superiors. If you walk through the new addition on any given school day, you will see these things: twelve brand new classrooms (all empty), three new offices (equally empty), one stretch of the hallway in which some small wall tiles are still being installed and one man painstakingly gluing them into place. You will not see any students or teachers. No learning is going in in this part of the school despite the fact that it has been essentially finished for three weeks. The district is paying to heat the new addition, so it is toasty warm even on the coldest days. (They will not, however, allow us any air conditioning even on those 90-degree May afternoons.) The lighting works and is frequently on to aid the man installing the tiles. The bathrooms are functional. (I had a few students test them just to be sure.) And as of last week, all the computer jacks are "hot," meaning that we can plug in our computers and do all the things we would do in our old, empty, sad-looking, brick cells of classrooms. But we still can't move because the officials who make these decisions (all people who never go near a classroom or a student if they can avoid it) still have to "coordinate some things" and "organize logistics." Consequently, the students and teachers who have been ordered to move will remain in limbo, waiting for someone high enough up the ladder of insane bureaucracy to sign his/her name on the dotted line to make everything "official."

Here's why this should make you mad: This is your parents' money (in the form of tax dollars) being spent to build, heat, light, wire, plumb, and landscape this new addition. The person ultimately responsible for this delay will never have to come in it or meet any of you, so s/he doesn't really care how long it takes for this transition to occur. Your teachers, on the other hand, who see you every day and in whose rooms you have to spend many hours, are greatly inconvenienced. The students are the ultimate victims of the delay because teachers can't be as effective when they are expected to be ready to move for a month but can't actually move until some arbitrary paper is signed by someone who doesn't know any of us. The great irony of this is that the district model of education puts students right at the center of everything. In theory, everything that happens in this district is to support student learning. In reality, few decisions are actually made with students in mind. This new addition to the building is a perfect example. If it were truly designed to serve you, the students, we would be in it when class starts on Tuesday. Those really being served here are the paper pushers and businessmen who sign contracts and spend your parents' money. And rather than hurry to finish whatever final touches may be left, all of which could be completed after we move in, they will take their own sweet time and make us wait.

I realize that most of you aren't particularly bothered by any of this because it doesn't affect you personally more than a couple times a day, but I do think it would be good to take a look at the philosophy that is actually at work here because it is a reflection of a philosophy that is ruining not only public education, but also many institutions meant to serve the people. Ask yourself: Why is it that the people farthest from the action always seem to be the ones making the decisions about how that action is carried out? Why is it that some district administrator who will probably never actually see students in these new classrooms gets to determine when the classrooms are "ready"? Why is it that the faceless school board, none of whom have been in school in about 40 years, get to decide what is appropriate for you to learn? Why do rich guys in big offices, who couldn't hit a baseball off a tee and who don't know the first thing about how to motivate players, tell the coach how to do his job? Why do politicians who have never experienced military combat get to decide how long our ground forces stay in Iraq before they rotate home?

We live in a world where those rich enough to own everything, lucky enough to be appointed to positions of power, or incompetent enough to be put in places where they can do the least damage make all the decisions that affect you. And that should bother you. Why do the people who make the least difference in the actual functioning of an institution have the most powerful voices? Let's consider this in school terms:

If the students do not show up for school every day, none of the principals, teachers, secretaries, office aids, police officers, reading specialists, counselors, or cooks who work there would have jobs. There would be no need for any of them. A school cannot function without students. But let's assume the students continue to show up.

If a teacher does not show up for school, what happens? Thirty students stand in the hall and make noise until some other teacher notices and calls one of the secretaries in the office. A custodian comes to open the door while the secretary begins searching for someone to cover the class until the real teacher arrives or until a substitute can be found. Students usually don't learn much on days like that (which is why they enjoy such days so much), and many people besides the students are inconvenienced. If all the teachers don't show up, the students must go home. A school cannot function without teachers. But let's assume all the teachers show up.

If a school secretary doesn't show up, there is no one to open and run the office. Students needing to pay fines, call home, sign in, sign out, or talk to an administrator are left in the commons waiting. Parents who need to pick up students, pay for P.E. uniforms, talk to administrators are waiting too. Anyone calling the school is unable to get through. The business of the school soon grinds to a halt with no school secretary at work. A school cannot function without a secretary. But let's assume the secretary does show up.

If a school custodian doesn't show up, no one gets into the building because all the doors are locked. People slip on the ice and get hurt. The toilets don't flush. Flickering light bulbs never get replaced. The halls are filthy. The school quickly becomes a dangerous place to be with no custodians on duty. A school cannot function without a custodian. But let's assume the custodian does show up.

If a school counselor doesn't show up, any student who needs a schedule change or has an SEOP will be left waiting: a minor inconvenience for a small number of students, but still an inconvenience. A school can still function for a period of time without a counselor. But let's assume the counselor shows up.

If a principal doesn't show up, no one really notices at first because the principal's absence does not inconvenience anyone. Students are still safely in the classrooms learning. The business of the office is still being taken care of, and the school runs smoothly. A school can function for a long period of time without a principal. But let's assume the principal does show up.

If a district administrator doesn't show up, maybe the other district administrators notice, but no students are bothered or even aware of it. A school can function without district administrators.

If the school board doesn't meet, no one but the district administrators would likely know. Whether the school board meets or not, schools still function.

Given this common knowledge, why is it that the school board, whose absence would go unnoticed by anyone in a school, must approve all the decisions about what happens in those schools? Why does a superintendent, who makes more money than anyone else in the school district and who seldom comes in contact with any students, have the authority to determine what those students should have to learn and how teachers should have to teach? Why does a principal, whose absence is only vaguely noticed by students and teachers, have the authority to make students kneel before her so clothing measurements can be taken to determine if a dress code violation is in progress? Why does a counselor, whose absence is felt only by those with which she has appointments, have total control of the scheduling of classes and students? Why is the custodian, whose very job is to maintain the physical well being of the school, not given a voice when it comes to pop and candy machines that clutter the halls he will have to clean up? Why is the school secretary, whose presence is essential to all school business, not allowed to run the office as she sees fit? Why are teachers, who come in contact with students every day and who know better what those students really need to succeed than anyone else, given no voice at all in how schools function? Finally, why are students, without whom there would be no schools, treated like cattle, hearded into the meat packing plant of public education for slaughter -- where they are injected with all the right chemicals and beliefs, ground up into a fine norm, and squeezed out after twelve years ready to be cooked and consumed by the world at large -- given no voice whatsoever in how they are educated?


Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Half Empty or Half Full?

Here ends the first half of the school year. I hate to say I told you so, but our class has dwindled to 27 students, down from the original 36 that we started with. History has repeated itself: Every year between December and March we lose a quarter of the class. This year, however, was even crueler in that we lost not only students, but also my teaching partner, Kathy Eller. I've always done the honors gig more or less on my own, but it was nice touching base with Ms. Eller periodically just to see how her honors students were doing. I'm going to miss her in so many ways that I can't count them all.

I just posted the third term requirements on the honors web site, and I am planning a meeting next Thursday, at which I will hand out the new books for the term and explain some of the changes in the requirements for the last half of the year. The most significant change will be that I am going to outlaw blogs that are nothing more than "Here's what I did last weekend." I want them all to have a central theme or thesis, a main idea around which the writing revolves, rather than just a random list of activities to fill space. I am going to look more carefully for some critical reflection rather than just journalizing and random list making. Here are some samples of blogs from our class that have a thesis: Tsunami by Lindsay Crosby, Slave Forces by Aaron Burgin, and King George II by Trey Williams. Also, if you are looking for a style to imitate, try Erynn Spencer's. Practically every blog she writes is focused on a theme, which is usually the title. This is not to say that you can't talk about yourself and your experiences, but put them within the context of some main idea. What's funny to me is that many of you are writing blogs that you know are boring because you announce it, first thing: "Don't read this! It's really boring! All I do is ramble on for 500 words about whatever pops into my head!" And after a couple weeks of this, I gotta tell you, I get bored of it, too. The moral of third term blogs will be this: Have a point!

We're halfway finished, but we're just getting started....

*<%^) MRT