Today, following "Big Joe's Funeral" around Harlem on Google Earth and introducing my African-American-dominated class to Sammy Davis, Jr. as an 8 year-old, singing and tapping to "You Rascal You," was supposed to be the big fun day in class. Instead I got the feeling that they would rather have been doing a worksheet and listening to their own headphones because of all the side conversations that began as soon as I started the "tour."
Most of them wanted to know if the pictures they were looking at were "real," in the sense of whether the cars we were "passing by" in Street View were actually on Malcolm X Boulevard right at the moment we were seeing them. When I explained that they weren't, a lot of the students seemed to lose interest. Maybe it wasn't as cool as I, and most of the other adults to whom I explained my plans, thought it was. Or maybe these students don't get out of their own neighborhood much and have had the edge of their curiosity a bit dulled because of it. Who knows?
Or maybe they're not happy being challenged. More than once I heard a comment about too much discussion of death and "Can we get back to just reading the story now, PLEASE?"
Well, we will tomorrow, because I definitely want to finish up by the end of class.
Dienstag, 7. Februar 2012
Montag, 6. Februar 2012
Taste of Success
Today I started the first unit I have ever taught on literature in a high school. Somehow I don't remember being either this nervous or this organized when I taught college. Maybe I was too young to worry.
More likely too cocky: I was going to write the Great Jewish-American novel, and teaching was just a day job. Not much different from so many of my current male students who are going to get athletic scholarships to top colleges and play in the NFL and the NBA, I reckon.
Anyway, the "set induction" was a game of arranging the story titles in Walter Dean Myers' terrific collection, 145th Street. Over the weekend I made up oak tag title strips; the students held up the strips and debated over what order the titles should go in, rearranging themselves in a line at the front of the classroom. All they knew about the book was a quick look at the front cover and the fact that it was by Myers.
I knew most of them would place "Big Joe's Funeral" at the end and the "Block Party - 145th Street Style" at the beginning, and that's exactly what happened - but interestingly, each class had its own internal logic about who was going to get hurt doing what or who was going to fall in love with whom and when. Of course, the whole idea was to get them a little invested in the book before they even opened it, and then to surprise them: The funeral is the opening story. It worked pretty much like a charm, although of course there were a couple of groans and complaints ("How are we supposed to do this when we don't even know what the story's about?").
I also managed to get students to read in all three classes, even the one with the lowest enrollment and the lousiest attendance (only 5 kids came today). Almost everyone took notes on the main characters, per my instructions, and just about everyone did the quickwrite exit ticket at the end about a character of their choosing.
Tomorrow will be more fun: I've downloaded Google Earth to my netbook, and we'll follow the route of the funeral through Harlem. I also bought the Armstrong version of "(I'll Be Glad When You're Dead) You Rascal You," and hopefully they'll be able to hear it through the tinny speakers.
More likely too cocky: I was going to write the Great Jewish-American novel, and teaching was just a day job. Not much different from so many of my current male students who are going to get athletic scholarships to top colleges and play in the NFL and the NBA, I reckon.
Anyway, the "set induction" was a game of arranging the story titles in Walter Dean Myers' terrific collection, 145th Street. Over the weekend I made up oak tag title strips; the students held up the strips and debated over what order the titles should go in, rearranging themselves in a line at the front of the classroom. All they knew about the book was a quick look at the front cover and the fact that it was by Myers.
I knew most of them would place "Big Joe's Funeral" at the end and the "Block Party - 145th Street Style" at the beginning, and that's exactly what happened - but interestingly, each class had its own internal logic about who was going to get hurt doing what or who was going to fall in love with whom and when. Of course, the whole idea was to get them a little invested in the book before they even opened it, and then to surprise them: The funeral is the opening story. It worked pretty much like a charm, although of course there were a couple of groans and complaints ("How are we supposed to do this when we don't even know what the story's about?").
I also managed to get students to read in all three classes, even the one with the lowest enrollment and the lousiest attendance (only 5 kids came today). Almost everyone took notes on the main characters, per my instructions, and just about everyone did the quickwrite exit ticket at the end about a character of their choosing.
Tomorrow will be more fun: I've downloaded Google Earth to my netbook, and we'll follow the route of the funeral through Harlem. I also bought the Armstrong version of "(I'll Be Glad When You're Dead) You Rascal You," and hopefully they'll be able to hear it through the tinny speakers.
Donnerstag, 2. Februar 2012
Practical lessons learned
Mrs. F., whose next rung on the ladder is to become an Assistant Principal, has been doing a lot of administrative work this week. The result is that I've been doing a lot of teaching, unfortunately without having prepared very many lessons.
In the long run this is a good thing, because I'm assuming I'll need to sub in a few nearby districts, probably for a number of years, before I get a full-time job anywhere. So being able to take over someone else's lesson plan at the drop of a hat is a good skill to cultivate. But of course it doesn't lead to me feeling as if I've done my best work at the end of the day.
I spent Tuesday reading the rest of "Crash Room" and letting the students work on their worksheets. I wasn't very happy with the kinds of questions I was asking - all "lower-level thinking" questions about what has just happened, what the first-person narrator is thinking (when he just pretty much told us), etc. It was only afterward that I realized I should have asked the students if they would ever want to work in a hospital now that they've read this story, and if so why, if not why not. I should have helped them relate more personally to it. But my Methods professor, whom I met with on Tuesday afternoon, told me that I had been "modeling careful reading strategies" for the students so I shouldn't feel too badly about it.
Yesterday Mrs. F was in the classroom all day. She went over a worksheet from last week that was related to her article on bullying while I graded the first worksheet I have ever composed. It was about an article in the local paper discussing a blood drive among local African Americans to help people in the community afflicted with sickle cell disease.
I was pretty happy with my own strategy for creating the worksheet - fewer questions, each question a little more valuable than Mrs. F's usual question in terms of points, and a 15-point "essay" (really, just a paragraph) at the end. For me, it was much easier to grade. But I made the mistake of not putting the point values at the end of each question as Mrs. F always does, and although I did say that the essay was only going to get full points for a "detailed and thoughtful" answer, I didn't say explicitly that I was looking for at least three or four full sentences.
I went over the worksheets with the students today - a day during which Mrs. F stuck her head in a couple of times, but that was it, and the sub from Monday was with me in the room - and at one point had to deal with a girl who had just returned from a 10-day suspension and was clearly out to test my mettle. I knew to keep cool and ask her firmly but politely to stop tapping her plastic ruler against the desk part of her chair, and ignore her if she tried to "hook" me into dealing with her. Either this worked or I got extremely lucky (probably the latter), because within a couple of minutes she had decided to walk out of the classroom and I told her not to come back. She received detention from Mrs. F, and if she doesn't show up for the detention she'll get another 10-day suspension.
At one point the rest of the students figured they would see how I handled myself if they started having loud conversations about rap artists across the wide space in the middle of the room, and I was a little worried that things were going to get out of hand. But when I told them that I would be happy to take their written suggestions about rap artists and rap songs to study in class, that I would work up lesson plans and we could definitely spend time on this if they wanted to - as long as the songs didn't have "cuss words" - that ended the discussion and we got back on task. I think I was happiest of all with that moment.
In the long run this is a good thing, because I'm assuming I'll need to sub in a few nearby districts, probably for a number of years, before I get a full-time job anywhere. So being able to take over someone else's lesson plan at the drop of a hat is a good skill to cultivate. But of course it doesn't lead to me feeling as if I've done my best work at the end of the day.
I spent Tuesday reading the rest of "Crash Room" and letting the students work on their worksheets. I wasn't very happy with the kinds of questions I was asking - all "lower-level thinking" questions about what has just happened, what the first-person narrator is thinking (when he just pretty much told us), etc. It was only afterward that I realized I should have asked the students if they would ever want to work in a hospital now that they've read this story, and if so why, if not why not. I should have helped them relate more personally to it. But my Methods professor, whom I met with on Tuesday afternoon, told me that I had been "modeling careful reading strategies" for the students so I shouldn't feel too badly about it.
Yesterday Mrs. F was in the classroom all day. She went over a worksheet from last week that was related to her article on bullying while I graded the first worksheet I have ever composed. It was about an article in the local paper discussing a blood drive among local African Americans to help people in the community afflicted with sickle cell disease.
I was pretty happy with my own strategy for creating the worksheet - fewer questions, each question a little more valuable than Mrs. F's usual question in terms of points, and a 15-point "essay" (really, just a paragraph) at the end. For me, it was much easier to grade. But I made the mistake of not putting the point values at the end of each question as Mrs. F always does, and although I did say that the essay was only going to get full points for a "detailed and thoughtful" answer, I didn't say explicitly that I was looking for at least three or four full sentences.
I went over the worksheets with the students today - a day during which Mrs. F stuck her head in a couple of times, but that was it, and the sub from Monday was with me in the room - and at one point had to deal with a girl who had just returned from a 10-day suspension and was clearly out to test my mettle. I knew to keep cool and ask her firmly but politely to stop tapping her plastic ruler against the desk part of her chair, and ignore her if she tried to "hook" me into dealing with her. Either this worked or I got extremely lucky (probably the latter), because within a couple of minutes she had decided to walk out of the classroom and I told her not to come back. She received detention from Mrs. F, and if she doesn't show up for the detention she'll get another 10-day suspension.
At one point the rest of the students figured they would see how I handled myself if they started having loud conversations about rap artists across the wide space in the middle of the room, and I was a little worried that things were going to get out of hand. But when I told them that I would be happy to take their written suggestions about rap artists and rap songs to study in class, that I would work up lesson plans and we could definitely spend time on this if they wanted to - as long as the songs didn't have "cuss words" - that ended the discussion and we got back on task. I think I was happiest of all with that moment.
Abonnieren
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