I have my good friend Joel Linscheid to thank for the progress I'm currently making for lesson planning for my U.S. history classes. I was at a sort of stand-still, or maybe running in circles... There's no limit to the number of books to read, documentaries to watch, lesson plans to peruse, teachers' testimonies to be inspired by... But when it comes to the question of what I will be doing during minute 67 of class session 5, and minute 84 of class session 18, and why I will be doing those specific activities at those specific times, the decisions to be made are many and overwhelming.
I had already made many aborted attempts to tackle that problem when Joel, discussing the jazz history class he'll teach this fall, mentioned in passing, "Really, the least I should do is have an outline made up of what I want them to know by the end of the semester."
YES!!!
My education textbooks have led me astray with all of their "graphic organizer" red herrings. They have provided me with a multitude of lesson planning formats, but none quite so excellent and effective, for me, as an outline.
I didn't always grasp the beauty of outlines. One of my most vivid memories from my elementary school education involved a homework assignment of making an outline. I had asked Mom for help with my homework, which never went smoothly. If I was at the point of asking for help, I was usually ready to throw a fit as well. Since I didn't understand the assignment, I assumed that either the assignment was unfair or incredibly pointless (lack of ability on my part was, according to me, out of the question).
I let loose on Mom with a tirade about the idiocy of this so-called "outline," which I had never heard of and assumed to be a torture device invented by my teacher. The instructions for the assignment seemed vague and random. What was this with the ABCs and 123s and Roman numerals? Who even uses Roman numerals, anyway? What exactly was I trying to do here?
Mom was always very patient with me (I even noticed that fact when I was in the mood to be very unreasonable, although I don't think I ever thanked her for it). As my whining rant trailed off, she used a soothing tone to help me understand that the purpose of the outline is to help you organize information in a shortened form, that the ABCs and numbers don't matter as much as understanding how the information fits together in each part of a story or speech.
With admiration in her voice, she he told me the story of a college friend who could simultaneously listen to a lecture and write out his notes in a concise outline format... an inspiring example, indeed.
It took me a long moment and several attempts at explanation for the meaning of this information to sink in. You know, I think it might have been the first time I realized that education's intent was not to challenge me with a series of obnoxious hoops to jump through, but to give me a set of legitimately useful tools for life. The outline and I have been friendly partners ever since.
The outline gives me a tool to overcome the root of my lesson planning problem, which may be the same problem that I have deciding what to parts of my life write about in my blog. Do I choose to write about the people in my life? Do I restrict my essays to challenging questions of values and beliefs? Do I focus on the abstractions of political and social consciousness, or the concrete day-to-day tasks on which I spend my time?
How do I justify allowing car repairs and outlines to occupy the same page that once discussed water rights in Israel-Palestine?
The same kinds of questions have haunted recent generations of historians, myself included. From whose perspective should we study history? Which information should be accepted as standard, need-to-know facts? Who do students need to know about, and which of their actions made up "real" history? Who and what gets emphasized, and who and what will be overlooked (either accidentally or intentionally) in the process? In the past, when U.S. history book information was restricted to a small set of white men and European-centered, European-style wars, these decisions were much easier to make.
Not that that wasn't legitimate history... It was just unfortunately a very small slice of what was actually in our past. The umbrella of what currently comprises "history" attempts to overarch a variety of perspectives, social and racial groups, and myriad conflicts and interactions.
I think that this is for the most part a great improvement on the study of history. But it gives textbook writers and teachers an impossible task of presenting and organizing historical information and concepts. It's a stressful quandary for someone like me who would like to think that it is possible to do all of history justice, but who tends already to have unrealistic expectations for students abilities and classroom time-use.
After much thought, reading, sketching, lists, outlines, and sticky notes... I still haven't come up with a structure for my class that I am completely happy with. In spite of the themes and chapters that I have laid out for the coming semester, I'm guessing that my history teaching will tend to be a mishmash of the mundane and the idealistic concepts, the day-to-day realities and the turning-point events, the majority parties and the underground movements of politics. I'm hoping that my students come out of it with some idea of the big picture, and aware that we've only barely brushed the surface of what there is to know about history.
At any rate, time is up. I will head to school next week clutching my outline, and pretending to be confident in my abilities to help my students achieve such an outcome.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Priceless
There's nothing like a visit to the car doctor to make me realize how vulnerable and insignificant my meager savings and I are... and to remind me just how much the objects in my life can cost me.
It was not welcome news last week when Frank informed me that my recently-developed rattles and shakes would add up to at least a $1200 fix. Thinking sadly that $1200 might make a nice down payment on a new and improved transportation device instead, I started searching local dealerships and craigslist ads. My search eventually led me to a visit with Dan at Academy Motors. I figured they must be nice and trustworthy folks because they have a cross and Jesus-fish on their sign out front.
When I told Dan what kind of budget I was shooting for (let me just hint: It turns out Bank of America doesn't even give loans THAT small), he scoffed. I've always wondered what it looks like to be scoffed at, but now I know. "Huh. WELL," he grunted, as he stuck his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes... "THAT doesn't give me anything to work with." I told him we could pretend that I had money anyway, and that I just wanted to see a few of the options available, but I let him get back to the air conditioning without wasting too much more of his time.
Imagine my relief when I took my sick Saturn to Jim in Topeka for a second opinion. He sighed but managed to turn the $900 spectre into $100 and pronounced the car more-than-roadworthy.
Now that my little red darling has a new lease on life, I'm on a campaign to fix the long list of aches and pains that have been plaguing her for years. Tuesday I will pay a junkyard $45 to give my E-brake a functioning button (no longer will I have to teach other drivers the "special trick" to parking my car). Next on the list are the clutch pedal that squeaks a blue streak in hot weather, and the flooding problem that requires me to keep a cup for bailing water under my seat...
Anyway, while Jim was fixing up my car in Topeka, I biked across town and settled in for a long day of work in my classroom--my first full day back since the end of May. It recently occurred to me that, now that I have my own room (HOOOOOORAAAAYYYYY!!! All but one of my classes in one place!!!), I can do whatever I want to improve upon the aesthetics and educational potential of my teaching space. With that end in mind, I dragged the two bedraggled and mismatched bookshelves out of the building and began slathering them with black paint.
I think there is a special kind of therapy in painting--in watching dilapidation disappear behind a new fresh start, in letting yourself just get messy and splattered with paint, and getting lost in the rhythm of the motions... But I wax poetic. At any rate, the world (and more importantly, my classroom) now has one less hospital-green shelf, and that in and of itself is a beautiful thing.
Before the end of the day I had not only improved on my shelving situation, but also rearranged and hung posters, swapped the desk and the front and the table in the back, unpacked books for lesson planning, reassembled my computer, and... somehow agreed to sew a purple velour Santa suit for the school's mentoring program. Hm. Well, five steps forward and one step back isn't bad progress, right? So I'll call that an auspicious outlook for the school year, and leave you with the rest of the equation (and a nod to whoever came up with this oh-so-quotable advertising scheme):
New engine mount bolts: $100
New tires and alignment for my car: $440
Can of black paint and paintbrush: $11
Driving to and from work with peace of mind.... and no car payments.........
It was not welcome news last week when Frank informed me that my recently-developed rattles and shakes would add up to at least a $1200 fix. Thinking sadly that $1200 might make a nice down payment on a new and improved transportation device instead, I started searching local dealerships and craigslist ads. My search eventually led me to a visit with Dan at Academy Motors. I figured they must be nice and trustworthy folks because they have a cross and Jesus-fish on their sign out front.
When I told Dan what kind of budget I was shooting for (let me just hint: It turns out Bank of America doesn't even give loans THAT small), he scoffed. I've always wondered what it looks like to be scoffed at, but now I know. "Huh. WELL," he grunted, as he stuck his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes... "THAT doesn't give me anything to work with." I told him we could pretend that I had money anyway, and that I just wanted to see a few of the options available, but I let him get back to the air conditioning without wasting too much more of his time.
Imagine my relief when I took my sick Saturn to Jim in Topeka for a second opinion. He sighed but managed to turn the $900 spectre into $100 and pronounced the car more-than-roadworthy.
Now that my little red darling has a new lease on life, I'm on a campaign to fix the long list of aches and pains that have been plaguing her for years. Tuesday I will pay a junkyard $45 to give my E-brake a functioning button (no longer will I have to teach other drivers the "special trick" to parking my car). Next on the list are the clutch pedal that squeaks a blue streak in hot weather, and the flooding problem that requires me to keep a cup for bailing water under my seat...
Anyway, while Jim was fixing up my car in Topeka, I biked across town and settled in for a long day of work in my classroom--my first full day back since the end of May. It recently occurred to me that, now that I have my own room (HOOOOOORAAAAYYYYY!!! All but one of my classes in one place!!!), I can do whatever I want to improve upon the aesthetics and educational potential of my teaching space. With that end in mind, I dragged the two bedraggled and mismatched bookshelves out of the building and began slathering them with black paint.
I think there is a special kind of therapy in painting--in watching dilapidation disappear behind a new fresh start, in letting yourself just get messy and splattered with paint, and getting lost in the rhythm of the motions... But I wax poetic. At any rate, the world (and more importantly, my classroom) now has one less hospital-green shelf, and that in and of itself is a beautiful thing.
Before the end of the day I had not only improved on my shelving situation, but also rearranged and hung posters, swapped the desk and the front and the table in the back, unpacked books for lesson planning, reassembled my computer, and... somehow agreed to sew a purple velour Santa suit for the school's mentoring program. Hm. Well, five steps forward and one step back isn't bad progress, right? So I'll call that an auspicious outlook for the school year, and leave you with the rest of the equation (and a nod to whoever came up with this oh-so-quotable advertising scheme):
New engine mount bolts: $100
New tires and alignment for my car: $440
Can of black paint and paintbrush: $11
Driving to and from work with peace of mind.... and no car payments.........
Monday, July 12, 2010
Pondering History
At the beginning of the summer I promised myself that I would spend July mentally switching back into teaching thoughts. Well, it's July...
I seem to focus better when I'm in a public place like a coffee shop (maybe I think other people are watching, so I feel compelled to look busy, and thereby trick myself into actually accomplishing something?), so I spent most of this morning with an iced chai and my laptop, cruising the internet for inspiration and wisdom for my coming year of teaching.
It's not that I'm specifically planning any lessons, just attempting to organize some thoughts into a coherent philosophy and overview for the coming school year. What habits do I want to adopt? What pattern will my 90-minute class periods take on? What theories of education do I want to incorporate?
I stumbled across a collection of interviews with accomplished and experienced history teachers, and found so much wisdom there, I felt compelled to start a list of "notes to self" for next school year. Then my list ended up as a collection of quotes, because I couldn't put the ideas any better than these teachers...
"I always tell my students that I don’t care if they remember everything, but they had to know how to locate information, know how to think, and had to be organized. I feel that as long as they know how to get information, it doesn’t really matter whether they memorize a lot of stuff. I want to give students the ability to become informed decision makers and problem solvers." Maurice Butler
"I believe we have more respect for the potential of our students; we understand that each student is a potentially powerful learner." Michele Forman
"The first thing I keep in mind is the Hippocratic oath: Do no harm. It works for teachers too. Most of the history classes I had in school were awful. They were filled with lectures and textbooks and little else. I don’t want to be that kind of teacher. ...History is not a series of dead facts. It’s made up of choices made by real people in real circumstances... It’s about making explanations for the way things are today. It’s also about drawing inspiration from the past, recognizing that anything we appreciate today, anything about this country that is decent, got that way because people worked together to create it." Bill Bigelow
"One of the things I need to say here is that I don’t try to “cover” all of U.S. History...To attempt it is to guarantee that the curriculum will be a mile wide and an inch deep... A teacher has to choose: either I’m going to explore some aspects of history, explore some time periods, in real depth, and in a way that can excite students—or I’m going to make sure that my students get through that entire 1,000 page textbook." Bill Bigelow
"Another important aim of my history teaching is to puncture the myth that a country is like a family. Too often, when textbooks talk about the United States they are filled with “we” did this, and “we” did that. But who really is the “we” that is being talked about? There is a coercive element to the language that is used in a history class—and in the media more generally, for that matter—that demands that students identify with the policies of the U.S. government and of U.S. elites... However, U.S. society has always been stratified based on race, class, nationality, language, gender—and it’s bad history, bad sociology to assume a common past. ... I want students to understand that U.S. society has always been experienced very differently depending on a variety of factors—and it still is." Bill Bigelow
"...He thought my biggest problem was that I was confusing the students by discussing how different historians thought differently about issues. “This is the only history course that most of these students will ever take,” he told me, "and they need to know the facts." I disagreed. If this is the only history course students ever take, it was all the more important that they know that historians disagree over what the facts are as well as over interpretations." Orville Vernon Burton
I seem to focus better when I'm in a public place like a coffee shop (maybe I think other people are watching, so I feel compelled to look busy, and thereby trick myself into actually accomplishing something?), so I spent most of this morning with an iced chai and my laptop, cruising the internet for inspiration and wisdom for my coming year of teaching.
It's not that I'm specifically planning any lessons, just attempting to organize some thoughts into a coherent philosophy and overview for the coming school year. What habits do I want to adopt? What pattern will my 90-minute class periods take on? What theories of education do I want to incorporate?
I stumbled across a collection of interviews with accomplished and experienced history teachers, and found so much wisdom there, I felt compelled to start a list of "notes to self" for next school year. Then my list ended up as a collection of quotes, because I couldn't put the ideas any better than these teachers...
"I always tell my students that I don’t care if they remember everything, but they had to know how to locate information, know how to think, and had to be organized. I feel that as long as they know how to get information, it doesn’t really matter whether they memorize a lot of stuff. I want to give students the ability to become informed decision makers and problem solvers." Maurice Butler
"I believe we have more respect for the potential of our students; we understand that each student is a potentially powerful learner." Michele Forman
"The first thing I keep in mind is the Hippocratic oath: Do no harm. It works for teachers too. Most of the history classes I had in school were awful. They were filled with lectures and textbooks and little else. I don’t want to be that kind of teacher. ...History is not a series of dead facts. It’s made up of choices made by real people in real circumstances... It’s about making explanations for the way things are today. It’s also about drawing inspiration from the past, recognizing that anything we appreciate today, anything about this country that is decent, got that way because people worked together to create it." Bill Bigelow
"One of the things I need to say here is that I don’t try to “cover” all of U.S. History...To attempt it is to guarantee that the curriculum will be a mile wide and an inch deep... A teacher has to choose: either I’m going to explore some aspects of history, explore some time periods, in real depth, and in a way that can excite students—or I’m going to make sure that my students get through that entire 1,000 page textbook." Bill Bigelow
"Another important aim of my history teaching is to puncture the myth that a country is like a family. Too often, when textbooks talk about the United States they are filled with “we” did this, and “we” did that. But who really is the “we” that is being talked about? There is a coercive element to the language that is used in a history class—and in the media more generally, for that matter—that demands that students identify with the policies of the U.S. government and of U.S. elites... However, U.S. society has always been stratified based on race, class, nationality, language, gender—and it’s bad history, bad sociology to assume a common past. ... I want students to understand that U.S. society has always been experienced very differently depending on a variety of factors—and it still is." Bill Bigelow
"...He thought my biggest problem was that I was confusing the students by discussing how different historians thought differently about issues. “This is the only history course that most of these students will ever take,” he told me, "and they need to know the facts." I disagreed. If this is the only history course students ever take, it was all the more important that they know that historians disagree over what the facts are as well as over interpretations." Orville Vernon Burton
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
"Please" Do "NOT" Throw the Toy Ball's Inside!!!
This summer I am volunteering 10 hours a week at a organization called the Ballard Center, which has a sister organization just down the road from my house called Penn House (I know... but it's on Pennsylvania Street).
Don't get me wrong, I am excited to be able to volunteer my time this summer.
And let me tell you, a 4-block walking commute is MUCH preferable to a 40-minute driving commute. The walk to and from Penn House alone would be worth spending time there.
But there are going to be some interesting challenges involved in volunteering.
I am working on digging up the background and history of Penn House, and it is a great example of the frustrations of organizational politics. Until 2003, Penn House and the Ballard Center were separate entities in East Lawrence that provided various community services, such as clothing and food pantries. Each of them had certain ways of doing things, and these methods (or lack thereof) have been ingrained and carried out over the decades, with varying levels of efficiency and effectiveness. The challenges of combining of the two centers, in addition to some recent turnovers in staffing, has led to some, ahem, substantial tensions.
I have to admit, I look around Penn House and see a lot of things I would run differently if I were in charge, and, of course, if there was nothing and no one in my way to changing them. The first thing I noticed were the signs--the sign duplicated on each of the doors in all capital letters announcing
PLEASE
CLOSE
THE DOOR
THE
AIR IS ON
...As well as a rampant misuse of apostrophes and "Quotation Marks" for "emphasis." Ughhhhh..... It hurts me.
But the signs are not my job, and I can only imagine whose toes would be stepped upon if they were replaced.
In fact, I think my main job description at this point is to try to find ways to be helpful without stepping on toes too much. After all, what do I know about the challenges and theories behind running this kind of an organization? I will just do my best to step lightly and keep my eyes and ears open for a while.
Don't get me wrong, I am excited to be able to volunteer my time this summer.
And let me tell you, a 4-block walking commute is MUCH preferable to a 40-minute driving commute. The walk to and from Penn House alone would be worth spending time there.
But there are going to be some interesting challenges involved in volunteering.
I am working on digging up the background and history of Penn House, and it is a great example of the frustrations of organizational politics. Until 2003, Penn House and the Ballard Center were separate entities in East Lawrence that provided various community services, such as clothing and food pantries. Each of them had certain ways of doing things, and these methods (or lack thereof) have been ingrained and carried out over the decades, with varying levels of efficiency and effectiveness. The challenges of combining of the two centers, in addition to some recent turnovers in staffing, has led to some, ahem, substantial tensions.
I have to admit, I look around Penn House and see a lot of things I would run differently if I were in charge, and, of course, if there was nothing and no one in my way to changing them. The first thing I noticed were the signs--the sign duplicated on each of the doors in all capital letters announcing
PLEASE
CLOSE
THE DOOR
THE
AIR IS ON
...As well as a rampant misuse of apostrophes and "Quotation Marks" for "emphasis." Ughhhhh..... It hurts me.
But the signs are not my job, and I can only imagine whose toes would be stepped upon if they were replaced.
In fact, I think my main job description at this point is to try to find ways to be helpful without stepping on toes too much. After all, what do I know about the challenges and theories behind running this kind of an organization? I will just do my best to step lightly and keep my eyes and ears open for a while.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
There are three reasons to teach...
It's a gorgeous day in Kansas--hot in the sun, cool in the shade, blue sky as far as I can see. I don't know why I have the urge to give the weather report every time I write a post. I think it's just that weather plays such a big part in my mood each day. So I guess it feels important to inform you of the weather as a introduction to how and what I'm about to write.
Today I love teaching. I love teaching because I woke up at 9:00, spent an hour reading in bed, made myself breakfast, did some laundry, worked out, showered, and walked downtown before noon. Summer is amazing.
I walked across town to the bank, and then back to a coffee shop. I sat and used my favorite new possession, a good old-fashioned fountain pen, to make tags for the guitar straps that I've been diligently weaving in my spare time over the past few months.
It took me a while to figure out a way to finish the straps so that they would actually look sort of profession and be functional, without needing to spend lots more money and time on them. But I finally had a breakthrough on the design, and now seven of them are for sale at Richard's Music Company in Lawrence. I have to admit they look pretty awesome hanging on their own littIe rack. I am really proud of them and at this point I don't even care if they sell as long as people at least see them and admire them.
(Sorry for the quality of the pictures. I had to take them on my webcam because I just misplaced my camera... which is the second brand-new camera that I have lost in the past month... Ugh. This is why I can't have nice things).
I plan to use this afternoon to go through the huge stacks of paper that I filed over the past year. I need to organize them so I can find them and reuse them for next year. It is amazing how much paper I generated this year, even though I was trying to be conscious of how many copies I used... Hmm.
Already I know that much of what I did this year I will NOT be reusing next year. As I cleaned out my classroom and glanced back through some of the tests and worksheets that I made for the first semester, I couldn't believe that I ever thought that they were a good idea. Although I tried my best to think ahead and plan lessons wisely, I really didn't have a clue.
I still maybe only have half a clue about teaching, but where I am now is a world of difference from where I was a semester ago, not to mention a year ago. It is really shocking how steep the learning curve has been, and how much more confident and competent I will feel going into next year than I did at the beginning of last August.
And here is the summary of my first year of teaching:
"It's alright that it didn't work... as long as I learn from it and improve it for next time."
Meanwhile, I have an entire summer to ponder a million ways to do that. Stay tuned.
P.S. It goes like this: There are three reasons to teach... June, July, and August.
Today I love teaching. I love teaching because I woke up at 9:00, spent an hour reading in bed, made myself breakfast, did some laundry, worked out, showered, and walked downtown before noon. Summer is amazing.
I walked across town to the bank, and then back to a coffee shop. I sat and used my favorite new possession, a good old-fashioned fountain pen, to make tags for the guitar straps that I've been diligently weaving in my spare time over the past few months.
It took me a while to figure out a way to finish the straps so that they would actually look sort of profession and be functional, without needing to spend lots more money and time on them. But I finally had a breakthrough on the design, and now seven of them are for sale at Richard's Music Company in Lawrence. I have to admit they look pretty awesome hanging on their own littIe rack. I am really proud of them and at this point I don't even care if they sell as long as people at least see them and admire them.
(Sorry for the quality of the pictures. I had to take them on my webcam because I just misplaced my camera... which is the second brand-new camera that I have lost in the past month... Ugh. This is why I can't have nice things).
I plan to use this afternoon to go through the huge stacks of paper that I filed over the past year. I need to organize them so I can find them and reuse them for next year. It is amazing how much paper I generated this year, even though I was trying to be conscious of how many copies I used... Hmm.
Already I know that much of what I did this year I will NOT be reusing next year. As I cleaned out my classroom and glanced back through some of the tests and worksheets that I made for the first semester, I couldn't believe that I ever thought that they were a good idea. Although I tried my best to think ahead and plan lessons wisely, I really didn't have a clue.
I still maybe only have half a clue about teaching, but where I am now is a world of difference from where I was a semester ago, not to mention a year ago. It is really shocking how steep the learning curve has been, and how much more confident and competent I will feel going into next year than I did at the beginning of last August.
And here is the summary of my first year of teaching:
"It's alright that it didn't work... as long as I learn from it and improve it for next time."
Meanwhile, I have an entire summer to ponder a million ways to do that. Stay tuned.
P.S. It goes like this: There are three reasons to teach... June, July, and August.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Weary Blues
Today I had the unfortunate task of trying to convince my German 2 students to practice that most-dreaded of subjects, Adjective Endings.
If you've ever dipped a toe into the turbid lake of German grammar, you know to shudder when you hear those two words.
Adjective Endings are a sadistic combination of arbitrary memorization, complicated grammatical concepts, and logic. If you're short on skills or knowledge in any of those areas, you are just out of luck. The only way to really learn German adjective endings is by speaking to and listening to lots of native German speakers--in other words, living in Germany long enough to just know how they feel.
I spent much of my evening yesterday searching for ways to simplify and demystify the subject, but alas... I found myself minutes into the lesson, already standing in a sea of blank stares, and even glares. There was a sense of hopelessness in the classroom. How had I dared, I wondered, to spring such an obnoxious grammatical surprise on them so late in the year?
The pressure was compounded by the frustration of those who had gotten the concept the first time, and are eager to move on. It is hard not to count my failures at this time when I'm looking around trying to gauge the effects I have had this year. This is the failure I regret above all: I have failed to find ways for my advanced students to progress at their own speed, because I am kept so busy trying to find ways to trick the other students into accidentally learning some German.
And then I looked around again and couldn't figure out which blank stares were because of boredom, and which blank stares were because of confusion. I didn't know who to help, who to encourage, and who to lecture. And then I looked at the door and wanted to walk through it, and not come back.
I'm trying to keep perspective--I can look around and see that I am not the only teacher in a slump at this point in the year. With less than 10 sessions left in each class, the challenge is to try to finish strong at the very time when you just feel like throwing your hands in the air. The end of the year can't come soon enough, and yet there is so much I was supposed to have done before the end of the year that I am constantly both panicked and impatient.
And frustrated--with myself, my students, my own limited knowledge, my commute, my heavy bag of books that accompanies me everywhere I go but never seems to contain all of the paperwork that I need at any given moment.
Well, I'm going to put it to rest for the weekend and hope that a couples days' break will give me the rest I need to energetically and enthusiastically execute my last few lessons of the school year.
If you've ever dipped a toe into the turbid lake of German grammar, you know to shudder when you hear those two words.
Adjective Endings are a sadistic combination of arbitrary memorization, complicated grammatical concepts, and logic. If you're short on skills or knowledge in any of those areas, you are just out of luck. The only way to really learn German adjective endings is by speaking to and listening to lots of native German speakers--in other words, living in Germany long enough to just know how they feel.
I spent much of my evening yesterday searching for ways to simplify and demystify the subject, but alas... I found myself minutes into the lesson, already standing in a sea of blank stares, and even glares. There was a sense of hopelessness in the classroom. How had I dared, I wondered, to spring such an obnoxious grammatical surprise on them so late in the year?
The pressure was compounded by the frustration of those who had gotten the concept the first time, and are eager to move on. It is hard not to count my failures at this time when I'm looking around trying to gauge the effects I have had this year. This is the failure I regret above all: I have failed to find ways for my advanced students to progress at their own speed, because I am kept so busy trying to find ways to trick the other students into accidentally learning some German.
And then I looked around again and couldn't figure out which blank stares were because of boredom, and which blank stares were because of confusion. I didn't know who to help, who to encourage, and who to lecture. And then I looked at the door and wanted to walk through it, and not come back.
I'm trying to keep perspective--I can look around and see that I am not the only teacher in a slump at this point in the year. With less than 10 sessions left in each class, the challenge is to try to finish strong at the very time when you just feel like throwing your hands in the air. The end of the year can't come soon enough, and yet there is so much I was supposed to have done before the end of the year that I am constantly both panicked and impatient.
And frustrated--with myself, my students, my own limited knowledge, my commute, my heavy bag of books that accompanies me everywhere I go but never seems to contain all of the paperwork that I need at any given moment.
Well, I'm going to put it to rest for the weekend and hope that a couples days' break will give me the rest I need to energetically and enthusiastically execute my last few lessons of the school year.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Gute Laune
Yesterday I had very light boots. That is a way of saying "I feel happy," plagiarized from the precocious 9-year-old narrator of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. This book is the most recent audio accompaniment to my 40-minute commute, so its metaphors have been sneaking into my consciousness and my vocabulary the past few days. I couldn't think of a better way to describe my good mood.
It started last night when I got home from work and saw the over-sized envelope stuffed into our under-sized mailbox. I knew what it was, and I had been waiting. Not even the crease across the envelope clearly marked "Important Documents: DO NOT BEND" could dampen my enthusiasm. The paper inside designated me as fully certified to teach History and Government 6-12 AND German K-12. That's right. I am now a Highly Qualified Teacher according to the State of Kansas. With that, I have done my part to move Topeka West High School toward that ever-derided and yet ever-coveted designation of having made Adequate Yearly Progress. It feels good to be official.
No doubt my good mood is also thanks to the severely beautiful spring weather. Thanks to a recent stretch of severely depressing winter weather, today was a shock to my state of mind; a good kind of shock. Tromping across my side of Lawrence in my Friday-casual outfit of Go-Charger-purple t-shirt, jeans, and yes, lightweight boots, I soaked in my surroundings. I felt the overwhelming urge to give thanks. The impending sunset threw a crisp glint over the sparkly-haired children ignoring playground equipment in favor of digging in the dirt, the neighbors walking eager winter-coated dogs, my friends drinking Pabst and grilling chicken in their front yard. We are lizards on warm rocks coming outside for the first time in months. We are trying to do at once all of the things we've been wishing and waiting for. It's been a long winter, and we're all ready to put away our heavy boots.
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