Language Arts Student of the Year: 2017

On the first day of school, there was new student in Honors English. I did not know then that this soft-spoken, long-braided new kid with the sparkling blue eyes would later earn the Homeric nickname Enduring Kennedy, the Arm-Wrestling Goddess of Dirty Converse and She Who Goes the Extra Mile...usually on a bike. (The part about the Converse was hers.) This year the Language Arts Spotlight shines on Kennedy Taintor.

As part of the first-day assignment, I had the students write about themselves and ask me their questions. Kennedy wrote, “I am the type of reader who stays up until 3:00 A.M. reading a book and then wakes up at 6:00 to read again.” So far so good, for an Honors English student. Then, her question for me: “Are you the type of teacher who teases students….?” Uh-oh. She went on: “Don’t tease me or anyone else in a mean way because that bugs me.” Duly noted. She also included the sentence “I am a VERY hard worker.” Mm-hmm, I thought at the time, we shall see….”

By the beginning of second term, the new kid had already distinguished herself in multiple ways, one being her meticulous and exquisitely legible printing, which I had plenty of opportunity to appreciate as we plowed through novel responses, journals, and essays. Kennedy’s writing was so easy-to-read that I sometimes wondered how she was seemingly able to type and print her in-class responses in such an attractive font when so many of her classmates (raised in a world where most “writing” is done with only thumbs) suffered headache-inducing dysgraphia (Cough: Braden, Cough: Ethan). I began to think of her manuscript as the Kennedy Font, and I wished more of her classmates would use it.

Her third-term paper on the leadership style of Odysseus was not only the longest, most in-depth, most precisely researched of all that were turned in, but she was also one of the only students who dared to just say it: Odysseus wasn’t a very good leader. Although we referred to him repeatedly as a hero during our study of The Odyssey, Kennedy was not afraid to take issue with tradition. She stated her case clearly and defended it powerfully. Her writing was memorable, and her hard work was paying off.

Recently, I assigned Kennedy to read a poem aloud to the class. “The Summer Day” by Mary Oliver reminds us to pay attention because life goes by in a blur. I remind students it isn’t mere existence that makes you special. It’s what you DO with that blur of your life, so you should do something! Pursue it with passion and ambition, whatever it is. “Dream big! Work hard!” I’ve written that on a lot of final papers in the past couple weeks, but I didn’t need to write it on Kennedy’s because she already knew…and she told me so on that first day of school.

Indeed, you are a hard worker, young lady! And even though I didn’t always have time to say it, I did notice, and I appreciate all your extremely legible, precisely researched, and thoughtfully complete work. I’m glad the new kid ended up in my class this year!

Rocket Man: Dennis Erickson

Every time I hear “Rocket Man” by Elton John, I think of my 23-year friendship with Dennis Erickson. Most of the lyrics don’t actually apply to him, but a few certain lines of that song resonate Dennis. Some apply to me. This one, for example: “All this science / I don’t understand.” That’s me. And whenever there was something biological or astronomical I needed to know, I went to Dennis. He’s not afraid of scary creatures…or terrible puns.

My first clear memory of Dennis was preceded by a shrieking group of seventh graders abandoning a hallway ahead of a three-foot long lizard who was menacingly patrolling it, followed by Dennis, guiding said creature with a stick as students ran from its path. As he passed me, he looked up and said simply, “Hall Monitor.”

A few years later, I encountered the largest praying mantis I had ever seen on the sidewalk coming into the school. I carefully scooped it onto a piece of cardboard and stopped by Dennis’s classroom with the specimen, which he promptly scooped up INTO HIS HAND and held up just inches from his face to diagnose the case of insectile gigantism as pregnancy: She was about to lay an egg sac, of the kind I had always seen decorating my back fence but had never known what I was looking at. I then stood there for half an hour and watched, fascinated, this strange birth.

I’ll never forget the smell in the northeast corner of the school when Dennis’s snake, freshly fed had been squeezed too hard by a nervous 7^th grader. It haunts me to this day.

When Carla Money brought in a sealed plastic ice-cream bucket containing the largest and most aggressive wolf spider I’ve ever seen, I had to take it to Dennis for identification. (He put his face uncomfortably close to it, as well.) I then kept it in my classroom all year, feeding it crickets bred in the library terrarium for Dennis’s constantly changing and growing classroom menagerie.

Carla also once brought in a dead rattlesnake she found on a hike in the canyon, which I think Dennis may have included in his collection of gruesome creepy crawlies floating in glass jars around his room. There are rumors, passed on by some of Dennis’s children in essays written for my class, that his science classroom is not the only place he stores such gruesome remains. I think it was Michelle who expressed a fear of actually cooking wrapped items from their freezer because she could never be sure if it was meant for human consumption or for later classroom dissection.

Speaking of children, both of mine enjoyed the same elements of Dennis’s class that I would have had I been lucky enough to be in it. My daughter spent much of her seventh grade year cuddling bunnies and handfeeding rats. My son liked the bug collection assignment (although my wife most assuredly did not). And I liked hearing about all of it and participating in the science of everyday life with them.

These and other stories have made their way into my lesson plans, writing prompts, and classroom conversations over the years, but I’ll have to leave the formal accounting of his numerous accomplishments and awards to others because I can’t get past the profound personal impact he has had on me. Dennis wasn’t just educating his students. His legacy here will run forever in the veins of his colleagues who have been privileged to suffer his puns, teach his children and have theirs taught by him, reap by association the rewards of his passion and excellence, and learn that science isn’t just something that happens in a classroom. It is all around us, waiting to be observed and handled and, most of all, appreciated. 

Every time there is an eclipse or meteor shower or satellite passing over, the faculty gets a reminder from Rocket Man Dennis to watch it or participate with him as he makes pinhole projectors with his students after school. Every time you drive past the school on a Saturday, there is a lone car almost certain to be parked at the northeast corner door. In the song, the Rocket Man says science is “just my job five days a week,” but that doesn’t apply to Dennis, either. He has spent more time in this school than anyone else, and he has given more to it than anyone else. Period.

So, why do I think of Dennis when I hear “Rocket Man” even though so few of the lyrics actually describe him? Because “I think it’s gonna be a long, long time ‘til touchdown brings me around again to find”…another teacher with the dedication and insane, ridiculous, outrageous, amazing commitment to what he does so well. We’ve been taking him for granted for so long that the school and the community will not realize until later how much we miss him when he retires. And the great tragedy of teacher retirements (and life itself) is how quickly we are forgotten as the past becomes the future. But his impact on me will last the rest of my life.

Thank you, Dennis.

“And I think it's gonna be a long long time
'Till touch down brings me round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home
Oh no no no.  I'm a rocket man!
Rocket man, burning out his fuse up here alone…”

Students of the Month: May 2017

Eduard Alvarado

At the beginning of this school year, Eduard was the student who never missed a day of school…but somehow he would have six missing assignments, so I had to call him in for Intervention quite a bit. He was one of the first students whose names I learned because from the beginning he had a sense of humor I could appreciate: it included a merciless desire to drive me crazy with odd questions at random times. In other words, at the beginning of the year, I remember lots of conversations with Eduard, but he struggled academically. Well, I realized the other day that I wasn’t having as many of those odd conversations, and I also realized I hadn’t called him in for Intervention in a long time because his grade has never dropped below a C since the beginning of January. He studies for quizzes and turns in all his assignments on time. This shows that Eduard has matured a lot this year. Where I once worried that he might not be able to handle high school, I now know he will do just fine because of this newfound maturity. His sense of humor is unchanged, but now he manages to get his work done, too. I’ve noticed. And I appreciate it. Thank you, Eduard!

Mariela Cobos

Mariela has always been a hard worker, and good grades are important to her (and her family). I learned this one day when I wanted her to come in for Intervention to work on a class project, so I assigned her an “I”. When a teacher does that, it makes the student’s online grade drop until the “I” is removed, but I knew that I would be removing it the following morning, so I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I was wrong. Mariela stopped by my room at lunchtime (as she and her friends often have this year), and I jokingly said something like, “Ooh, you better check your grade!” because I knew that I had just put that “I” in the computer. I was  teasing, of course, (as I often do), but to Mariela, it was no joke. I wish I could imitate her response when she saw her grade, but I don’t think I can generate a shriek that high-pitched! And it merited an immediate call home to explain the situation to Aunt Liz. I felt kinda bad afterwards, but it makes a good story now. And I wanted to make sure Mariela knew how much I appreciated her good work all year. Thank you, Mariela!