Teaching Stuff I Shouldn't Have to Teach

I think that by 7th grade I shouldn't be having to teach the parts of speech. They should be fully able to tell a noun from a verb from an adjective. Whether my students are "normal" or not, I don't know, but they do not know as much as I think they should. I could spend a lot of time worrying about this, but Robin Jackson in her book Never Work Harder Than Your Students, says instead I should simply start where the students are.

My principal is big on data and he likes for us to give pretests, so I started my parts of speech unit with a diagnostic quiz that I recorded only to check progress, not for an actual grade. I had I do this in Excel as my grading program doesn't allow for such a scenario. The quiz revealed that more than half the class was unable to distinguish one part of speech from another. Guess it was time to reteach.

I hate spending time reteaching, and I feel like I'm just dragging the students through material they've already heard and don't want to retain! So I decided to try some less conventional ways to "review" the material. I called it a review, telling students I expected them to already know this information. We began by going over the parts of speech using Chris Biffle's Whole Brain Teaching method. You can see videos and read more about his methods at wholebrainteaching.com. I don't fully use his system, but I borrow from it regularly and the unit on the parts of speech is a good place to incorporate whole brain teaching. I made up gestures and one-line definitions for each part of speech to use. In some cases when I forgot to think ahead, I asked my honors class to make up gestures, and that was probably more effective for them anyway. I also borrowed some creative ideas for hands-on and kinesthetic activities from various places on the Internet, including Pinterest.

For prepositions, we hid a "treasure" in my classroom (actually a stuffed penguin) and then created treasure maps to guide someone else to find it. The maps had to incorporate at least 10 prepositional phrases. "Walk toward the window. Stand next to the bookshelf." If students couldn't do the task because they didn't know the prepositions, I didn't help them. I asked "What resource is there--besides me--that could help you?" After a few minutes, "Ummm. Could I look in the book at the list of prepositions?" Bingo! I'm always trying to get students to figure out ways to solve their own problems instead of expecting the teacher to do all the thinking.

To review adjectives (according to Chris Biffle, those words that make your writing "spicy"), I pre-made construction paper frames and put the words "I AM" in large letters at the top. Students had to page through magazines and cut out adjectives to describe themselves. As they worked I took each of their photos individually to put in the frame. (I borrowed the yearbook camera.) This activity afforded a lot of opportunities for those small one-on-one teachable moments ("Yes, you are a cheerleader, but is cheerleader a describing word or something else?"), which are probably more effective than me teaching all day long! Afterwards, I laminated their pictures and displayed them on the classroom wall.

My next task--how to tackle adverbs? Hmmm. Maybe I'll share it with you once I decide what to do.

Making it relevant

Relevance is always the challenge in teaching classic literature. In the past I've found myself getting too caught up in teaching the content and forgetting about what's important to my audience. This year in my Romeo and Juliet unit for freshman English class, I decided to focus less on sharing all my "storehouse of knowledge" and instead hone in on the elements that would be pertinent--and therefore interesting--to my students. I took a step back and thought about what my goals for a Romeo and Juliet unit are. Basically, after studying the standards, I came up with two overarching goals. First, I want my students to appreciate and understand Shakespeaere's language, including his use of word play and puns. Second, I want them to "get" the story in a way that allows them to make connections to their own lives. For a starting point and to overview the plot, we watched West Side Story. Later, once we have finished with R&J, we'll use WSS to write a compare/contrast paper--a skill the students need to practice anyway. After WSS, I told the students how, like Tony and Maria, Romeo and Juliet met at a dance as well, but a masquerade ball. We decorated paper masks with paint and glitter and held our own masquerade ball.

In a book by The Folger's Shakespeare Institute, Shakespeare Set Free, I found a renaissance circle dance, and I downloaded some renaissance music on my phone to play through the sound system. After our masks were ready, we put them on and I taught the class the circle dance, complete with bows and curtsies to honor our partner. It didn't matter if boys danced with boys or girls with girls because in Shakespeare's day, there were no women in the theater, and all the actors would have been men and boys--even the ones playing women. (Juliet was played by a man!)

Since I have Freshmen--and a lot of boys--I didn't really expect them to participate or enjoy the dancing, but I was pleasantly surprised that they got into it! I think wearing the masks helped because they could feel they were "hiding" or playing a part, not really being themselves.

We read Act 1 together in class, a chore that was made considerably easier by using Michael Tolaydo's method as outlined in Shakespeare Set Free. Act 1, Scene 1 involves some individuals from each of the warring households insulting each other, so after reading it, we familiarized ourselves with Shakespeare's language by creating insults and hurling them at each other! Phrases such as "Thou wanton eye-offending manikin," which may translate into "You sleezy, ugly, little woman" (or worse!), were particularly popular. In trying to keep it relevant, I pointed out that Shakespeare's plays were often considered a bit on the "racy" side, but that because we don't understand the language, his puns and often dirty jokes go right over our heads. I sometimes wonder if the Powers-That-Be who require public schools to teach Shakespeare really understand his work. If they did, I'm not sure they would want high school Freshmen reading it!

While reading Act 1, I pointed out some of the crude humor, including obscene gestures and "locker-room" talk about sex. I explained that to those who understand the language, Shakespeare's works are quite risque. (At which a Freshman boy blurted out, "Well, teach us to understand it then!") After reading as much as they could stand (not much), we watched Act 1 of the BBC version on DVD. This gave me opportunity to point out such stage elements as the chorus and soliloquies, though truthfully, I found this version pretty boring and badly made. At least, though, we were able to hear the lines delivered.

Then I found the 1996 movie version starring Leonardo DiCaprio. Set in a modern coastal city called Verona Beach, this version is controversial, and some older English teachers don't like it because of the artistic license director Baz Luhrmann has taken--for example, instead of fueding families, the Lords Montague and Capulet appear to be warring mafia heads of "family" and instead of swords, everyone carries a gun. I like it, though, because it is fast-paced, action-packed and still uses the original language of Shakespeare. The same students who struggled desperately to understand the text and who yawned through the BBC version, now sat up, stayed awake and understood almost everything that happened! In fact, one student (a boy who barely passed first semester) said he went home after the first viewing day and rented it because he couldn't wait to see how it ended! Occasionally I stop the video and ask students to clarify what's going on--almost always they have followed the story perfectly. I was surprised at how many of my students didn't know how the story ended and were truly shocked and angry.

I used to think that teaching classic literature meant the students had to read every word in its original form. I still believe students need to be exposed to the original language, but sometimes small doses can be more powerful than the whole. Overall, as the goals I set before, I wanted them to understand and use Shakespeare's language and to know the story line. The 1996 movie version helped me to get my students to that place. Pointing out the puns and plot elements that appealed to their adolescent mentality helped too. In the end, they don't really care how much I know about Shakespeare and his works, and even if I stand up front all day spewing my knowledge, it doesn't soak in. Instead, a sprinkling of the language, a focus on the seedier side, and a modern take on the movie probably made a much bigger impact than a thorough reading of every word could ever have done!

March Madness

     When I say March Madness, I'm not talking about basketball, though here in Indiana, almost everyone is! I'm talking about the month of March in the classroom. It becomes a bit crazy. It's been a long winter and the students are tired of being cooped up inside. Truthfully, we teachers are tired, too. We made it through the first round of ISTEP+ and personally, I just wanted to collapse when it was over. We had been reviewing writing skills pretty hard; then it was time to get back to the literature and reading skills. After Christmas break, we finally hit our stride. Until the first of March, things were humming along nicely. Our agreed-upon discipline plan seemed to be working. Occasionally I asked someone to leave the room, but after that, everyone else would settle in to work. During ISTEP, the students showed sincere effort. For weeks, I had been talking about the importance of the test. I reminded them that the test is not the most important thing, but that it does matter and they needed to do their best. In the past, I've heard 7th graders say, "It's just a stupid test," and I wanted to combat that attitude early on. The 22 students who tested in my room all seemed to be serious and work hard. (Well, most. One student "finished" his essay in 10 minutes during a 55-minute testing session. According to state requirements, I could only remind him to double check his work and then require that he sit quietly. As I glanced at his test, I saw that he had only written about 4 lines in messy handwriting. The test booklet allowed 2 complete lined pages for the essay!) I had no behavior issues during the test, few instances of students appearing to "blow off" the test, and I felt good about their efforts. But when the test was over, the zoo was open for business, and we still had 4 weeks until spring break!
     I decided this was a good time to lighten up. We had been working very hard. The first week after the test, I scheduled 15 minutes of quiet reading time every day. During this time, as long as the class was behaving, I let them sit or lay on the floor or move to sit by a friend. For some reason, sitting under a table is a more comfortable place for some 7th graders to read than their desk! For the assignment, I schedule lots of in-class work time and allow students to work with a partner of their choice. When the room gets too loud, I remind them to use their "12-inch voices," meaning only a person within one foot of you can hear you. Students who don't stay on task are sent to their desk to work alone--the worst punishment in the world! Because of the training we've been practicing all year, most of these times are manageable and fairly productive, as long as I keep circulating. I don't assign very much homework these days--at least not without allowing enough work time that most students could finish the work in class if they get down to business. And on Fridays, if the students have been working that week, we spend the last few minutes having "talk and tech time." They get to bring in their smart phones, MP3 players and handheld game systems to use for the last 10 minutes of the class period. This reward is the most effective tool I've found!
    

Words can't express . . .

It's impossible to be a teacher (or a parent) and not be absolutely overwhelmed with the school shooting that happened yesterday in Connecticut. This one was especially disturbing because the targets were elementary children--kindergarteners, the reports are saying. Honestly, I've had teen-agers  in my classroom that I could almost imagine turning into a shooter because they were so dark and depressed, coming from a life of abuse and neglect. And I've seen high school students be so mean to each other that I have worried about a retaliation of extreme proportion. At this point, we don't know anything about this shooter and his motives, but what could possibly make anyone want to kill children? I'm not saying the other shootings were understandable, but if you hang around mistreated teenagers, you can kind of feel their pain and see how their unstable mind might get to that point. But not this time. It doesn't make sense, even in that sick way of one whose been bullied getting revenge.

I'm reminded of my first and second years teaching. The first year, though I wasn't young like most first year teachers, I was inexperienced. I had come from years of youth ministry where it was my job to befriend high schoolers. I didn't know how to relate as an authority figure, and as a result, my classes were sometimes chaotic. That first year, I taught seniors. I didn't even know my way around the school as well as they did! They knew more than I did, and they knew it. I cried many evenings that year. I came home saying, "I can't do this," on a regular basis. One of my mentor teachers recommended, in her words, that I become a b**** for a while to establish my authority. As a result, at the start of year two, I decided to become mean.  I went in the first day with my stern voice and face. My introductions were brief, and I jumped right into the material. I tried to overwhelm my new students with the amount of work to be done in English class. I tried to impress upon them that this would be a hard class that they would need to take seriously. I didn't engage in chit chat, and I made it my aim to not appear all that friendly . . . . That evening, after the first day of school, one of my students took his own life . . . . That was five years ago. To this day, I wish I had smiled. I wish I had just been myself. I wish I had at least had a friendly conversation with that boy. I wish his first, last, and only impression of me hadn't been my stern face and down-to-business voice.

I'm not afraid to go to work. I'm not afraid for my life. But I'm terrified for the world these students are growing up in. And I'm not just talking about the young ones who lived through the shooting in Connecticut. I'm talking about my students--and my children, who are young adults now.

And I have that feeling I had five years ago--that I want to go back into my classroom on Monday and just love on my students. I want to tell them that I think they're wonderful--even the ones who won't quit talking. I want them to know that one person (if no other) cares about them. Every day during our moment of silence, my prayer is for the 130ish students who will pass through my doors that day. I pray that they'll know that I love them. My apologies to the State, but I don't pray that they'll pass their standardized test. I don't pray they'll understand grammar. In the long run of their lives, knowing a gerund from a participle isn't going to mean anything. But knowing they had a teacher who cared about them as a human being--that will last.

Do Something

FDR said "Do something. If it works, keep doing it. If it doesn't . . . do something else." I was talking to a high school senior recently about how she learned grammar from the strictest teacher in school. She said she learned more grammar that year than in all the other years combined. I asked why she supposed that was. "Probably just because everyone's afraid to talk in there so all you can do is listen and learn," she said shrugging. To her it was an off-hand remark, but to me it was a nugget of wisdom. If the students can't hear or focus on the lesson because of so many distractions, how are they supposed to learn? One teaching book I read warns against becoming a greater distraction as a teacher than the student who was initially exhibiting the problem behavior. In my education classes I was taught to be inspiring, to engage the kids and show them that learning can be FUN! But this teacher who gets such results doesn't worry about making grammar fun. She worries about making sure no one is distracting his neighbor so that neither one of them can learn! Where is the answer to the classroom management question? Is it my job to make learning fun or is it my job to police the classroom, putting out rebel fires? I suspect it's actually some elusive middle ground that varies from year to year and from one class period to the next. I'm frustrated that what seems to work wonderfully one day crashes and burns the next day--or sometimes the next period! I try hard to keep my mood out of classroom management, but the truth is that some days I think it's funny when Georgie makes a sarcastic remark--and other days it makes me mad. I guess I'll take FDR's advice and just keep trying something else. Maybe there's a secret formula out there (If so, will someone please clue me in?), but I doubt it.

Go ahead, Call my parents!

This particular class of 7th graders has a reputation. Last year on the last day of school, the 6th grade teachers stood in the hallway and (literally) pointed at me and laughed, saying, "Ha! Ha! Now they're YOURS!" But I haven't found them to be quite the little devils they were cast to be. Talkative, yes! Immature, absolutely! Inconsistent, sure! Low-achieving, unfortunately! But not defiant and not disrespectful, at least not by my definition. I draw clear distinctions between behavior that is immature or inconsistent and behavior that is intended to disrespect, deceive, or distract. Immature is a student who just can't control his mouth because, well, because he just can't, not because he means to interrupt the lesson. This kind of student talks out in class, and when asked to be quiet says, "Oh I'm sorry," gets quiet, then three minutes later is at it again. Defiant kids, when you ask them to be quiet, roll their eyes, throw themselves back in their desk, and say loudly, "I wasn't talking, I was just telling him a story!" (How is telling him a story NOT talking?) or "Geez! This class is stupid!" (Read: This teacher is stupid for hindering my social life.)

Here we are three weeks from Christmas break, and I still don't have a handle on this group of talkative 7th graders. I still spend half of each class period saying "Be quiet. Stop tapping your pencil on the desk. Don't touch his notebook. Sit down. No you may not go to the office to call your mom for permission to go home with your friend. Put your cell phone away. Don't braid your neighbor's hair during the lesson. Stop kicking the desk in front of you. No I do not have a pencil you can borrow." This ought not be happening by this point in the school year. Last year by now, we had a groove. I could assign small groups and work with one group at a time while the others worked. Not this year! Small group work quickly becomes chaos. I know the research says students learn better in small groups, but not if the other 2/3 of the class is brawling on the other side of the room!

So today I had a heart to heart with my 7th graders. I ask them, in all sincerity, what they suggested I do to maintain a classroom environment where people could learn. I said, "I think there are some people in here who want to learn and who are frustrated that I spend half my time telling people to be quiet instead of teaching." Several heads were nodding--those I never have to (check that, never get to) say a word to. So I asked for suggestions. Third period suggested I give a warning or two, then send the offender to the hallway to "cool off" for 5 minutes. After that, they suggested, they could come back in and participate in the class, but if they repeated the offense, they should go to the office and get a discipline write-up. (This was their idea, not mine!) I like it. So I took a vote--90% of the class agreed that they thought this was fair and appropriate. They said it gets the noisy person out of the room so the rest can learn. I said, "What's the punishment if they just sit in the hall with the other talkers and have a party?" The studious ones responded, "Well, they'll miss the lesson and their grades will suffer." Wow. Out of the mouth of babes . . . Fifth period had a different idea. They thought the write-up was unfair. (How is a write-up more unfair than them stealing lesson time?) I thought they were just playing me, and I was about to implement the third period idea anyway, but decided to ask for more input. "What shoud I do then?" "Call our parents!" came the answer. Really? I asked how many of their parents would be unhappy if I called to report that they were too talkative in class. About 75% raised their hands. The rest had a smug look of satisfaction on their faces. "Yeah, that's a good idea!" They said. One turned to his neighbor and said, "My mom won't do anything!" At this point, I could see a change (funny thing about 7th graders--you can often see the wheels turning in their brains) as some of them thought I might be catching on to their game. "Oh, no! Don't call our parents! We'd be in trouble!" The 25% now changed their tune. Almost with a physical nudge to "back me up", they of one accord changed their story. "Oh, I'd be in big trouble if you called my parents!" Now one of the tactics that I'm learing in my latest professional development group is not to make decisions on the spot, but to let it set, so I told them, "I'm going to think this one over a couple of days and I'll get back to you." I could tell they were uncomfortable, and I suspect they could see the wheels turning in my head then!

Tonight I called four sets of parents. I explained to each one that their son or daughter was not in trouble and that I was just calling for input. I found something positive to say about each student, and then added the dreaded "but". But he talks too much in class. I told them about our heart-to-heart and explained that the students had suggested a phone call home instead of a write-up, and I asked what they thought would be more effective with their son/daughter. Of course the four I called were all from the 25% group! Each parent thanked me for calling, agreed that calling home was more effective than a write-up, and promised to have a discussion with Sonny that very evening. I reiterated that Sonny was not in trouble--that I just wanted input, but each time they insisted, "Well, I'll have a talk with him anyway."

Correction--three of my phone calls went as above mentioned. The fourth was a bit different. This boy (let's call him Jaime) has a father who speaks only Spanish. I didn't know that when I called, but when he answered in Spanish and continued to answer me in Spanish, what could I do? I'm always insecure speaking Spanish with native speakers, and talking on the phone is even harder, so I tried three times to get him to say something in English, but when he didn't, I finally switched to Spanish. It was a brief conversation and the English translation goes something like this:
"I'm Mrs. Blah Blah and I'm Jaime's English teacher."
"Okay." (Serious tone)
"I'm having a problem in English class."
"Okay." (Displeasure in the voice)
"Well, the boys won't stop talking."
"I will take care of it."
"Oh! Okay."
"Thank you for calling. Good-bye."
(Alrighty, then!) I doubt I'll have any more trouble out of Jaime.

Today I'm thankful that I took the time to listen to input from my kids--they might be more insightful than I give them credit for. And I'm also really thankful that I was able to speak to a Spanish-speaking father instead of using a translator or perhaps having to go through a mom who may not have responded the same.