Matching Tracksuits

education and teaching

Department of Defense

Wednesday 23 October 2024

I was discussing with my principal how I’d like to reward the class (fourth period) that had absolutely no NHIs for the whole quarter. That means every student turned in every assignment. Seems basic, mundane even. To put it in context, one class had 57 NHIs for fewer assignments.

“I’d really like to reward them, but it would be great to be able to do something really big for them, like buy everyone lunch. But we’d need a budget like the Department of Defense,” I said.

“We are the DoD,” he laughed. “Those people out their have no idea what we’re saving them from…”

Our Instructional Goals

Tuesday 22 October 2024

Today we had our first benchmark for this school year. It’s not a benchmark anymore — I can’t remember the new jargonistic name we call it. A something-something predictive assessment. “Predictive” means that it predicts how well students will perform on the SC-Ready test, the end-of-year, state-mandated assessment. Except that it doesn’t. The company that sold the program (Mastery Connect) to the district bragged that it is over 90% accurate in its predictive assessments. Except that it isn’t. We had questions today that weren’t in the pacing guide for first quarter.

“Mr. Scott, what’s a ‘gerund’?” several asked.

“Don’t worry about it. We haven’t covered it. It’s not in the pacing guide until second or third quarter. I can’t remember which. Either way, we will have covered it by the time we get to the SC-Ready test.

The assessment would be a little more useful (i.e., a little more predictive perhaps?) if it weren’t for one small issue, which I elucidated on my daily update for my class website:

All students began the day with the first benchmark of the quarter. We’ll go over the results at some point next week, but since the test is proprietary, we won’t be able to look at or discuss the actual questions because of licensing and copyright. It makes it challenging to use the benchmark as any kind of instructional experience, but we’ll do our best.

That’s right — I don’t get to see the test. At all. I can’t go over the test with students. At all. All in the name of capitalism and profits.

What kind of questions are they? Well, if they’re anything like the questions from our textbook’s unit tests, they’re something like this:

Example 1

A quick question about a straightforward topic: plot structure:

How does the plot structure and specific events in Passage 1 contribute to the overall meaning of the text? 

They create a sense of mystery and suspense, leaving the reader questioning the truth behind Mrs. Sappleton’s husband and brothers’ disappearance.

They highlight the importance of social etiquette and the consequences of misjudging social situations.

They emphasize the theme of deception and the power of storytelling to manipulate perception.

They showcase the protagonist’s journey towards self-discovery and overcoming his anxieties.

But it’s not so straightforward. What exactly does this question mean by (pardon the repetition) “overall meaning”? What is the “overall meaning” of a text? I’m not sure. I know what the overall theme is. I know what the main idea of a text is. I can figure out what a specific, confusing passage means. And I can teach my students to do all these things. But the overall meaning of a text? According to Google’s AI explanation,

The overall meaning of a text is the main idea, or central idea, which is what the text is mostly about. The main idea is the point or message that the author presents and the reader takes from the text.

So it’s just main idea. Or central idea. Still, I hold that, considering how “meaning” is generally used, the question is confusing as hell.

Example 2

This question has two parts. Students are literally instructed, “First, answer Part A. Then, answer Part B.” But knowing middle schoolers’ reading habits, perhaps it’s best to maintain clarity:

Part A

Which character undergoes significant development in Passage 1?

Framton’s sister

Mrs. Sappleton

Vera

Framton Nuttel

Part B

How does the character development contribute to the overall meaning of Passage 1?

Mrs. Sappleton’s character development enriches the text by revealing her resilient and upbeat demeanor despite the lingering grief over her family’s tragedy, thus underscoring the theme of coping mechanisms in the face of loss.

Framton Nuttel’s character development adds depth to the narrative by showcasing his transformation from skepticism to terror, highlighting the impact of the tragic backstory on his psyche and reinforcing the theme of unexpected shocks in ordinary situations.

Vera’s character development serves to contrast her initial composed facade with her vulnerable moments, emphasizing the theme of appearances versus reality and suggesting the fragility of human emotions.

Framton’s sister’s character development provides context for Framton’s state of mind and his motivations for seeking refuge in the countryside, thereby deepening the reader’s understanding of his character and enhancing the exploration of themes related to mental health and escapism.

Again with the confusing use of “meaning.”

But in the end, it’s not even the confusing use of words. What is the point of these questions? What is the practical application?

I know there’s a practical application; I know there’s a point. I’m not dumb. But I am frustrated. I have some kids who can barely on a third-grade level, and I’m expected to get them to the point that they can not only make sense of such questions but also answer such questions.

It’s overwhelming.

Pacing

Wednesday 16 October 2024

We’re starting a new unit at with the on-level eighth graders this week, and as I always do, I consulted the district pacing guide to see what the recommended teaching topics were and how much time we should spend on each topic.

It’s a unit on horror fiction (because of Halloween, I suppose), and the first piece in the textbook is a relatively short literary analysis called “What Is the Horror Genre?” — it’s short, but not easy for eighth graders. Nor is it what we could call a high-interest text. The piece in its relatively short entirety:

Many people define horror by its subjects. We all think of creatures like Frankenstein’s monster, Dracula, and the wolfman as monsters in the horror genre. Each one of these creatures has a history and developed over a period of time. But we also know that horror covers more than just these monsters. We could all make long lists of the kind of creatures we identify with horror, especially when we think of films as well as literature. The minute we would start to make such a list we would also realize that not all monsters are alike and that not all horror deals with monsters. The subject approach is not the clearest way to define this genre.

Some students of this genre find that the best way to examine it is to deal with the way horror fiction is organized or structured. Examining the organization of a horror story shows that it shares certain traits with other types of fiction. Horror stories share the use of suspense as a tactic with many other kinds of literature. The tension we feel when a character goes into the attic, down into the basement, or just into the abandoned house is partially a result of suspense. We don’t know what is going to happen. But that suspense is intensified by our knowledge of the genre. We know that characters involved in the world of horror always meet something awful when they go where they shouldn’t. Part of the tension is created because they are doing something we know is going to get them in trouble. Stephen King refers directly to our anticipation of horror. In Salem’s Lot Susan approaches the house which is the source of evil. “She found herself thinking of those drive-in horror movie epics where the heroine goes venturing up the narrow attic stairs . . . or down into some dark, cobwebby cellar . . . and she . . . thinking: . . . I’d never do that!” Of course Susan’s fears are justified. She does end up dead in the basement, a victim of the vampire

If the horror genre uses the character’s search for information to create suspense, it controls when and where we get our knowledge. Because we are outside of the situation we usually know more than the characters. Our advance knowledge creates suspense because we can anticipate what is going to happen. The author can play with those expectations by either confirming them or surprising us with a different outcome. When suspense is an important element in fiction we may often find that the plot is the most critical part of the story. We care more about what happens next than about who the characters are or where the story is set. But setting is often considered a part of the horror genre. If the genre has traditional monsters, it also has traditional settings. Only authors who want to challenge the tradition place events in bright, beautiful parks. We expect a connection between the setting and the events in this genre. We are not surprised to find old houses, abandoned castles, damp cellars, or dark forests as important elements in the horror story. Some people make further distinctions based on how the stories are organized. We can divide stories into different categories based on how we come to believe in the events related and how they are explained to us. Stories that deal with parallel worlds expect us to accept those worlds without question. We just believe Dorothy is in Oz; we accept Oz as a parallel world separate from ours. Other times events seem to be supernatural but turn out to have natural explanations: the ghosts turn out to be squirrels in the attic, or things that move mysteriously are part of a plot to drive someone crazy. Sometimes the supernatural is the result of the way the central character sees the world, as in stories told from the point of view of a crazy person. But at times we are not sure, and hesitate about believing in the possibility of the supernatural. When I first read Dracula I seriously considered hanging garlic on my windows because I believed that vampires could exist. This type of hesitation, when we almost believe, falls into the general category of the “fantastic” (Todorov 25). Often horror has its greatest effect on us because we almost believe, or believe while we are reading the book or watching the film, that the events are possible.

Yet another way of categorizing works of horror is by the source of the horror. Some horror comes from inside the characters. Something goes wrong inside, and a person turns into a monster. Dr. Frankenstein’s need for knowledge turns him into the kind of person who creates a monster. Dr. Jekyll also values his desire for information above all else, and creates Mr. Hyde. In another kind of horror story the threat to the central character or characters comes from outside. An outside force may invade the character and then force the evil out again. The vampire attacks the victim, but then the victim becomes a vampire and attacks others. Stories of ghosts or demonic possession also fall into this category.

We can also look at the kinds of themes common to horror. Many works concentrate on the conflict between good and evil. Works about the fantastic may deal with the search for forbidden knowledge that appears in much horror literature. Such quests are used as a way of examining our attitude toward knowledge. While society may believe that new knowledge is always good, the horror genre may question this assumption, examining how such advances affect the individual and society.

Not exactly a thrilling read for eighth graders. I make an argument before we begin: “Think of this as practice for all the times you’ll have to read a text in the future that really holds no interest for you but is important for this reason or that — job, education, whatever it might be.” But why should be subjecting reluctant readers to something so dry and boring? Why do I do it? The short answer to the second question is simple: the district requires it. Hardly a compelling reason. As for the first question — I don’t have an answer. The situation is simple, though: no one wants to read it because it’s not terribly interesting and it’s at a reading level that’s overly challenging for them. I don’t want to force them to read it because they’re reluctant readers as it is: forcing this shit down their throats only makes them less interested in reading. But the state adopted this textbook which included this piece; the district made the pacing guide; administrators require us to follow the pacing guide; and we teachers are left with the unenviable task of trying to get kids to read this.

As for the pacing guide, we’re to spend four days on this. Day one has four options for the learning target.

(A few words about “learning target.” Education is obsessed with jargon, and the experts at the district and state levels seem to think that changing the name of the jargon and slightly altering how we word the jargon will make qualitative and quantitative differences in the students’ education. Our district used the “Essential Question” as the framing device for each lesson. We were to put them on the board and use it to frame our planning and instructional delivery: the kids at the end of the lesson should be able to answer the question. It might sound like this: “How do I analyze how supporting details contribute to the development of two or more central ideas within an informational text?” Now we’ve got a new silver bullet: the learning target. How would the learning target differ from the essential question above? It’s a radical difference, one that has revolutionized my classroom. “How do I analyze how supporting details contribute to the development of two or more central ideas within an informational text?” becomes “I can analyze how supporting details contribute to the development of two or more central ideas within an informational text.” It’s made a big difference in my classroom. Formerly disengaged learners have come up to me afterward and explained, “Mr. Scott, when we had those essential questions, I felt so lost. I really didn’t know what was going on, and all learning just seemed pointless. With theses new learning targets, though, everything has changed. I’m a new boy! My attention is more focused. My desire to be disruptive has disappeared. And I even do my homework now! Thanks, learning target!”)

The district pacing guide suggests four possible learning targets for the first day:

  1. I can analyze how supporting details contribute to the development of two or more central ideas within an informational text.
  2. I can analyze how supporting details contribute to the development of two or more central ideas across informational texts.
  3. I can summarize the most important ideas and content from grade-level texts to enhance comprehension.
  4. I can paraphrase content from grade-level texts while conveying the same meaning to enhance comprehension.

What are we doing for day two? The district suggests this learning target: “I can edit to use a comma or dash to indicate a pause or break when writing compositions.” So we’re going to make it through this challenging text in one day? Really?

Still, I guess I can see how we could do focus on commas for a while after we finish the text. We might spend some time looking at how the article used commas (Did it really make use of commas? There are a few.) or dashes (Did it really use that many dashes? Not a single one.) and then the next day, we could perhaps do some independent practice with commas. That would be a logical day 3 learning target.

Day 3: “I can identify and revise inappropriate shifts in number when writing compositions.”

What the hell is this? We’re just supposed to suddenly change to another grammar-based idea out of the blue? What happened with comma practice? Are we to get all instruction and all practice done in one day? With squirrely eighth graders? And just what, pray tell, is the connection to our anchor text (another lovely bit of jargon)? Surely day four is going to continue with this subject/verb agreement lesson of day three.

Day 4: “I can use appropriate parallel structure in words, phrases, and clauses when writing compositions.”

Screw it — I give up. I just give up. I understand why this is in there — parallel structure is one of the eighth-grade standards. But it is such a relatively esoteric compositional idea that most adults in the building (other than English teachers) wouldn’t recognize a parallel structure error let alone correct it. I could teach this to my students, but it would take at least a week, and even then, I’m not sure how long they would retain it. And for what? Maybe one question on the beloved end of the year test? (And if it is on the end of the year test, it won’t be worded using “parallel structure.” Instead, it will have a sentence that has a parallel structure problem and the question will be, “What is the best way to revise this sentence?” Getting them to that point? It’s not going to happen.)

I long for a district that says, “We trust your professional judgment. We believe you can quickly assess where your students are, design lessons to improve their reading and writing, and implement those lessons without us telling you all the whats, whens, whys, and hows.” I long for a state department of education that thinks improvement is more important than reaching some arbitrary standard. If I worked in a state and district that required all the people working in administrative positions to spend at least half their day in the classroom themselves so they can see how their policies affect students and teachers, that is exactly the kind of state and district we’d have.

Graph the Laugh

Tuesday 15 October 2024

We’re working on poetry in my honors classes, and being halfway through the unit, we’ve turned our attention to one of the most difficult things to do in the class: determine the tone of something. Our something was Billy Collins’s (rightfully) semi-famous “The Lanyard.”

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

Afterward, we listen to Collins doing a reading. The laughter surprises them. Who would think poetry could be funny? Their homework: graph the laugh. Today, we go over it.

It’s an example of perfect comedic timing. Collins builds the anticipation with the first two lanyard references, which come quickly one after another. Then he goes several lines focusing on the mother before reminding us about the lanyard.

The anticipation is such that the audience even chucks a bit at the line “here are thousands of means” and a little less at “here is clothing and a good education.” The anticipation appropriately high, Collins then hits us with one of the best lines of the poem: “And here is your lanyard, I replied / which I made with a little help from a counselor.”

The kids always find it amusing later, but none of them ever laugh the first times we go through it.

Some day…

Some day…

Greenville Game

Thursday 10 October 2024

One thing that rarely happens to me at L’s volleyball game is meeting former students. The two high schools that most of my eighth-grade kids attend are not 5A schools like Mauldin High, so we never play them. This year, however, Greenville High (where probably 45% of my students end up attending) ranked up to 5A, so we now face them a few times a year. The first time was at a weekend tournament that I was unable to attend. The second time was at Mauldin, but I was shuttling the Boy here and there. So tonight, we all went to Greenville High for the final game between these two schools.

There were lots of familiar faces. First and most significantly was E, who was in my English I class four years ago and on L’s travel volleyball team (along with H, another of my students). At weekend tournaments I would sometimes see E and H huddled together, papers spread about, talking to each other.

“What are you girls doing?”

They would both look up at me with mock anger: “Studying for your test, Mr. Scott!”

But E wasn’t the only former student I saw. In total, I’d guess about eleven or twelve kids came up to me to let me know how things are going in high school.

“Guess what, Mr Scott? I have a 98 in English 2!” J, a student from last year, boasted with a smile.

“Do you have all As?” I asked C, who is now a junior.

“Of course!” came the laughing reply.

The game itself was a grueling, five-set slog. Our girls won the first set 25-13, which got them a little too confident. Greenville jumped out to a lead in the second set, and at one point it was 13-19. Our girls didn’t give up, though, and fought back to make it 16-19 before falling apart and losing the set 17-26. The third set went to Mauldin, but just barely: at one point, our girls were down 4-9, but they battled back and won 25-22, going up two sets to one. Of course, Greenville tied it at two sets each with a 19-25 fourth-set victory. Mauldin jumped out to an early lead in the deciding fifth set, going up 5-2 then quickly adding two more to make it 7-2. But as our girls like to do, they gave most of it back and were only up by one, 7-6. Ultimately, they kept a lead, increased it a bit, and won the final set 15-12.

Return

Wednesday 9 October 2024

I don’t think anyone knew what to expect when the students returned to school today. Our eight days out of school were unlike virtually any “break” we teachers had ever experienced, and that surely would be doubly true for the students. There was one “break” it called to mind, the “vacation” we dare not speak of. Still, the similarities were undeniable: we left suddenly; we knew not what devastation the future held for us and those we love; we had no idea when we would return.

During our faculty meeting during yesterday’s teacher work day, our principal reminded us about the potential fragility of the situation. “We have no idea what our kids have gone through. We don’t know what trauma each individual child experienced. We don’t know what stresses await the children when the return home. Go easy on them. Love on them.”

Many of the kids would likely have said they were not happy to be back, that they would have been thrilled to hear that they would never have to return, but our experience of the lockdown would belie such sentiments, as did the students’ faces this morning as they walked down the corridors for the first time in days. There was a palpable sense of relief in each of my classes: things were returning to normal.

Waiting for afternoon transportation

Events like this shouldn’t be the only thing that reminds us of the inherent frailties in many of our students’ lives, shouldn’t be the only thing that reminds us to go easy on them. The more I teach, the more I realize this gentleness is the key to students’ hearts and souls, and once a teacher has those things, she can lead the students — even the most recalcitrant or incorrigible — just about anywhere. Or in the jargon and memes of teaching, “They have to know you care before they care what you know.”

It was a good day to be a teacher.

Decisions

Monday 23 September 2024

Sometimes, there are no right decisions; there’s only a queue of increasingly wrong — sometimes increasingly harmful — decisions, all standing patiently in line for us to inspect them, reinspect them, obsess over them, fret over them, stress over them, reexamine once again, reconsider yet again, and constantly feel crushed by them.

Sometimes, there are no good decisions; there’s only a pile of increasingly worse decisions — often increasingly harmful — and we just have to look them over and decide which of these awful decisions we will take, which of these awful harms we will inflict.

It’s never something as morally abstract as the trolley problem. It’s always direct harm to a relationship we treasure. It’s always choosing one hurt to inflict over another to someone we don’t want to hurt at all. And so it always doubles back on us and causes us as much pain as we doled out. Perhaps more. Perhaps it’s only with a little experience and a few years that we see that.

Sometimes, there is no way to juggle all the things we’re required to keep flying overhead in never-ending arcs. Focused on keeping the chainsaw’s roaring blades away from our hands, we lose sight of one thing or another, and the knife comes clattering down to the floor, damaging something. Or worse, someone.

I feel like this teaching throughout the day: there are little decisions I have to make constantly (Do I let her go to the bathroom now or would it be better later? Do I let him go to the vending machine?) and some only seem little (Do I call him down now, knowing how he’ll react and knowing the disruption that will cause — which will be the bigger disruption? Do I correct her writing now, even though her mistake has only a tangential connection to the topic at hand? Do I try to force this kid to work with someone or let her work on her own again this time even though we’ve had the discussion about the merits of collaboration and made an agreement to try the next time we’re in groups?). But there is always — always, always — a decision just lurking.

Nowhere else is this more true than in parenting. Things glide along fine until they don’t, and then someone is always going to be disappointed; someone is always going to be hurt.

This is especially true, I’m discovering, as one’s child moves closer and closer to that magic number: eighteen. It’s especially true, I’m seeing, as one’s child becomes increasingly cognitively developed and is no longer making arguments like, “I just want to,” but sound, logical arguments that acknowledge their own shortcomings in the present situation and yet make a good case for getting what she wants. It’s especially true, I’m learning, when she fights back tears of frustration and tries her level best to keep her emotions in check and act like an adult.

“Because I said so” is no more a legitimate reason than “I just want to.” At least it’s not anymore, because the power of logic: what’s going to change in the next two and three-quarters months? Is she going to be any more cognitively developed? Emotionally developed?

K and I love being parents, truly we do, but even after nearly eighteen years of it, we’re still wondering if it will ever get any easier.

At Work

Friday 20 September 2024

These three kids are among my best workers. Z, the boy in the middle, wasn’t the best worker last year.

This year, he is. When I told the seventh-grade administrator about the change, she threw her arms up and proclaimed, “Hallelujah!”

From School

Monday 16 September 2024

English I students continued with their parts of speech review, getting out of the traditional order and skipping from adjective to prepositions in order to help students identify prepositional phrases. This will help them with all the other parts of speech, especially since we’re going to be covering active/passive when we get to verbs later this week.

English 8 students continued with the district-designed unit on argument based on the newly adopted textbook looking at argumentative writing. We’re looking at a second article dealing with automation and employment: this article makes the opposite claim as last week’s article “The Automation Paradox.”

Goodbye to the Bard?

Thursday 12 September 2024

South Carolina Regulation 43-170 has been wreaking havoc on education this year, and few are more directly affected than humanities teachers. It reads, in part, “Instructional
Material is not “Age and Developmentally Appropriate” for any age or age group of children if it includes descriptions or visual depictions of “sexual conduct,” as that term is defined by Section 16-15-305(C)(1).”

In turn, Section 16-15-305(C)(1) reads:

(1) “sexual conduct” means:

(a) vaginal, anal, or oral intercourse, whether actual or simulated, normal or perverted, whether between human beings, animals, or a combination thereof;

(b) masturbation, excretory functions, or lewd exhibition, actual or simulated, of the genitals, pubic hair, anus, vulva, or female breast nipples including male or female genitals in a state of sexual stimulation or arousal or covered male genitals in a discernably turgid state;

(c) an act or condition that depicts actual or simulated bestiality, sado-masochistic abuse, meaning flagellation or torture by or upon a person who is nude or clad in undergarments or in a costume which reveals the pubic hair, anus, vulva, genitals, or female breast nipples, or the condition of being fettered, bound, or otherwise physically restrained on the part of the one so clothed;

(d) an act or condition that depicts actual or simulated touching, caressing, or fondling of, or other similar physical contact with, the covered or exposed genitals, pubic or anal regions, or female breast nipple, whether alone or between humans, animals, or a human and an animal, of the same or opposite sex, in an act of actual or apparent sexual stimulation or gratification; or

(e) an act or condition that depicts the insertion of any part of a person’s body, other than the male sexual organ, or of any object into another person’s anus or vagina, except when done as part of a recognized medical procedure.

This is in the 2023 South Carolina Code of Laws, Title 16 (Crimes and Offenses),
Chapter 15 (Offenses Against Morality And Decency) Section 16-15-305 (Disseminating, procuring or promoting obscenity unlawful; definitions; penalties; obscene material designated contraband).

So this morning, I walked into the teacher’s workroom this morning to put my lunch in the refrigerator, and the drama teacher was making copies.

“Are you still able to teach Romeo and Juliet?” she asked.

I told her that as far as I knew, we were still able to teach it. It is, after all, in the textbook the South Carolina Department of Education approved. I asked her what she meant.

“We’re getting word that his plays are a bit too controversial, and we might not be able to act them anymore,” she explained.

Pretty much.

Re-creation

Wednesday 11 September 2024

The Honors kids are working through a parts-of-speech review, and today we went over pronouns. (Not for the whole class, mind you — we only spend about 15 minutes per day working on this. Otherwise, it would be numbingly boring for everyone, including me.) Students were identifying demonstrative, interrogative, and relative pronouns, and number five was a question, an excellent opportunity to see for interrogative pronouns.

“Let’s skip to five,” I said, giving them a moment to read it. “The first pronoun in that sentence — can anyone identify it?”

A smart young lady raised her hand. “What,” she replied correctly.

And then it hit me — there’s always a joke of the day. I like to make the kids laugh, though most of my jokes make them groan. But here was a chance to recreate a classic.

“Number five,” I repeated. “The first pronoun.”

“What,” she repeated, a little confused.

“I’m asking you — the first pronoun in number five.” I had to phrase the next part just right. “It’s what?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“It’s what,” she confirmed, her eyebrows furrowing a bit more, smiles starting to appear around the room.

“What?”

“Number five?”

“Yes. I’m asking you. The first pronoun.”

“What.” She was starting to catch on here.

“The first pronoun!” I let a little faux frustration creep into my voice. “Look at number five and identify the first pronoun.”

“It’s what!” a full smile as she had caught on at that point.

“Why are you asking me?! I know what it is. I want to see if you know. What is it?”

“Yes!” Now she had it.

“Yes, what?!”

“Exactly!“

By now everyone was giggling, including her.

“Does anyone know what we just recreated?” I asked.

“Who’s on first?” came a voice from the back.

“Very good!” And our first brain break of the day was to watch the first few minutes of that classic.

Zeno’s Paradox

Monday 9 September 2024

In English 8, we’re off to our next set of required readings. I have very little say in what I teach English 8 this year, and a lot of the materials are too difficult for my students and too — quite frankly — boring to get their interest. Our piece is called “The Automation Paradox,” and so we did a little pre-teaching today so kids know what a paradox is. To that end, I introduced them to Zeno’s Paradox. We did some measuring, completed a little math, and I convinced them that the math was solid: the arrow should have never hit Zeno.

So then we tested the theory with a ball. Which students took turns throwing at me. I was fairly sure they would hit me quickly, but I failed to take into account the light weight of the ball and the tendency of smooth light balls not to travel in a straight line. So most of the throws missed.

But the point was made. And the kids had a blast throwing that silly ball at me.

This is what makes middle school so fun: they’re cognitively developed enough that we can get into some abstract thinking and still childlike enough to enjoy being silly.

Guest

Wednesday 4 September 2024

I know today’s meeting with a counselor was very important for students so they would have an idea what to expect in the soon-coming high school registration process. I know they need to know this stuff. But do they have to learn it in my class? A class that is tested by the state? A high-stakes class?

August Saturday

Saturday 31 August 2024

I’ve written often enough, I suppose, about how my Saturday rhythm has changed over the last forty years or so. Saturday once meant church, seclusion, no work, no socializing with non-church folks, no sports, no school-related activities. Nothing that could pollute our minds or get our focus away from our sect’s teachings.

Saturday afternoon at 2:30 we met at the IBEW (International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers) union hall. We usually arrived at least an hour earlier, and stayed at least an hour past the 4:30 end time. Every Saturday afternoon, a two-hour meeting during which men of dubious theological education pontificated about the conspiracy theories that comprised the bulk of the organization’s theology. The only saving grace was the playing (and later, as a teenager, socializing) that took place before and after the meeting.

Shrubs before

These days, my Saturdays are so much more fluid. Sometimes, there’s a clear outline to the day, with chores in the yard occupying much of my time. Once school starts, I send a fair amount of the morning grading students’ work. Today, for example, I went through 43 kids’ single-paragraph analysis of “The Cask of Amontillado.” They wrote things like this:

The narrator’s story can be trusted because Montressor is confessing his actions to the priest on his deathbed. For example, Montressor talks to the preist because he knows the “nature of [his] soul.” and would not believe that he “gave utterance to a threat”. This proves that the priest knows Montressor very well, probably because the same priest would come to his house often. The priest also would not suppose Montressor killed someone. He would most likely want to admit his wrong doings before he died. Another example is, In “half of a century” no one has disturbed the catacombs or found Fourtunado’s body. It shows that no one has found out what happened to Fortunato 50 years later. This also explains the reasoning why Montressor would tell his priest, because he would be very old by this time; old enough to be on his deathbed. To sum it up, because Montressor is confessing to the priest that he killed Fortunado, this narrative can be reliable.

I worked through the papers in between trimming shrubs, cleaning my bike chain, and cleaning out the basement.

The shrubs — didn’t L just trim those? Her chores on Saturday usually include getting crickets for her frog, shopping (she usually gets the week’s groceries on Fridays, but there’s always something more we need), and cleaning her room.

Shrubs after

The bike chain — didn’t I just clean it? Bike maintenance is something I’ve never really enjoyed. It’s so tedious cleaning a chain, replacing cables, adjusting brakes, replacing tires. But the worst of it all is definitely chain cleaning. No matter how carefully I clean it, there’s always a bit of grime left behind. But nothing makes a bike look better than a spotless chain.

Today, I used a new degreaser, and I was fairly pleased with the results. Ultimately, what I’d like is an ultrasonic cleaner that I could just drop the chain into for a few minutes and then let dry. But in the meantime, I’ll use a degreasing solution and toothbrush.

Cleaning out the basement — there’s been a crate of old books that K will eventually take to Goodwill, and among the books are several of my college lit anthologies. I’ve kept them for so long because — well, I really don’t know why. I haven’t cracked one open in so long. I had them at school for a long time, but I’ve run out of shelf space and brought them hope.

That is a story in and of itself. Last year, the state of South Carolina provided each English teacher with $3,500 worth of independent reading books so we could have a classroom library of contemporary, high-interest books. But this year, things changed:

Effective August 1st, 2024, SC Regulation 43-170 requires teachers to produce a complete list of the Instructional Materials (including classroom library books) that are used in or available to a student in any given class, course, or program that is offered, supported, or sponsored by a school, or that are otherwise made available by any District employee to a student on school premises. That list shall be provided upon reasonable request by any parent/guardian of a student in the District.

Greenville County Schools Press Release

In short, we’re not to have any books that even hint at sex. It’s another last-gasp effort of the far right to maintain its stranglehold on young people’s minds, I say to myself. For me, it’s simply a headache, which is why I’ve closed my library: I haven’t made the list yet, and I have no idea when I’ll be able to. In the meantime, I posted a sign explaining the situation, and I look forward to Meet the Teacher night when all parents can see the signs because I’m going to make my presentation standing right beside one.

So I guess in a way, my Saturdays have come full circle.

Library Day

Thursday 29 August 2024

Every year it’s the same: I’m going to do a better job encouraging and facilitating independent reading. And every year’s initial visit to the library starts out with that intention. And then reality sets in, deadlines for covering content loom, and the independent reading time slowly gets strangled.

Obligations

Thursday 22 August 2024

What’s on my mind lately? The amount of stuff I have to do:

  • One grade per week per student
  • One Common Formative Assessment per class per three weeks
  • One Common Summative Assessment per class per grading period
  • Contacting all homeroom parents by phone within the next three weeks
  • One collaborative team meeting per week
  • One grade-level English teacher meeting per week
  • One grade-level meeting per week
  • Assorted meetings with district personal about various topics
  • Assorted 504 and IEP meetings
  • Lesson plans in a very detailed required format that include
    • Differentiation for ML (multi-lingual) students for each lesson
    • Differentiation for special education students for each lesson
    • Differentiation for early finishers
    • Plans for collaborative teaching with co-teacher in inclusion classes
    • Plans for integration of ML strategies
  • Data chats with students every Monday
  • Faculty or department meeting every other week
  • Positive notes to three students each week
  • Create a list of every book in my classroom library
  • Make publically available every resource I use

And that really doesn’t cover everything — that’s just what I could list off the top of my head.

Is it any wonder so many teachers are burning out?

What Should Be the Last Straw

Tuesday 20 August 2024

It was near the end of the school day, and the eighth-grade assistant principal pulled me out of my classroom to tell me something. “You’re going to get an email in a little bit that I don’t want you to read until you get home, relax, have some dinner, and then have a drink.”

I knew what was in that email from what she said. It’s something that has been bouncing around for a year or more and now has finally come to full fruition: South Carolina Regulation 43-170.

The email from our principle included a link to the official district explanation:

Effective August 1st, 2024, SC Regulation 43-170 requires teachers to produce a complete list of the Instructional Materials (including classroom library books) that are used in or available to a student in any given class, course, or program that is offered, supported, or sponsored by a school, or that are otherwise made available by any District employee to a student on school premises. That list shall be provided upon reasonable request by any parent/guardian of a student in the District.

What does this mean in practical terms? The principal spelled it out in no uncertain terms:

  • All books in your classroom library have to be named in a list
  • Link to Lesson Plans
  • Worksheets
  • Books
  • PowerPoints/Slides
  • Articles
  • Workbooks
  • Video Clips
  • Excerpts

In short, all the materials we might give to a student in a given year.

Why?

Because there’s a concerted effort among teachers to turn as many students gay as possible and promote critical race theory every chance we get. We have so few other demands on us that, out of a sense of woke duty, we purposely spend time trying to turn kids gay and putting down whites. All mathematics word problems are set in San Francisco or must include some anti-white framing. History teachers eschew all periods of history except the Stonewall riots and contemporary history with a bent toward institutional racism. Science classes neglect all disciplines except genetics, and they only discuss the gay gene. Finally, we English teachers simply have students watch episodes of Will and Grace and write summaries of them.

In case anyone can’t tell (and those who proposed and promoted this law probably can’t tell), this is satire. I feel it necessary to state that upfront. None of this actually happens. That goes without saying, but just in case someone stumbles on this and uses it as proof that teachers are encouraging students to identify as gay, anti-white cats, I must say emphatically once again, this is not happening. When dealing with a blunt viewpoint, one must use blunt instruments.

If either of our kids expressed any interest in going into education, I would try my hardest to discourage them. I’ve come to wonder whether or not there is a conscious effort to destroy public education by placing such onerous demands on teachers that the majority of them quit so that the state can farm out education to private firms just like so many states have done with correctional institutions.

August Monday

Monday 19 August 2024

We’ve been in school for nearly two weeks now. It’s time for the honeymoon period to end, sending everything into a series of predictable unknowns: who is going to turn out the nearly-constant talker who, when redirected, grows aggressive and disrespectful? Who is going to become the example of a nearly-always bad mood? Who is going to start refusing to do much of anything?

Usually by this time of the year, I can see those students starting to let the cover drop and be their true selves. Last year was so tough there was no honeymoon period: we eighth-grade teachers could see it clearly the first day.

This year? I’m still waiting for them to appear.

I’m trying not to get too unrealistically optimistic about it. They’re sitting in my class for sure. They have to be: they’re always there.

But maybe, just maybe, not this year?

AI Image created from the prompt: “An oil painting in the style of Vermeer of several students working on a writing project collaboratively.”

Added Weight

Tuesday 13 August 2024

We all came back to school hoping this year would be better, hoping that some of the bureaucratic micro-managing the district is forcing on our school would lessen somewhat. Last year it was reports that disappeared into the netherworld, reflections that sat in shared Google Drive folders unread (at least nothing was said about them), data that was just useless numbers comparing (incoming cliche alert) apples to oranges. I wrote a sixteen-page document detailing all the problems with all the nonsense and sent it further up the food chain.

We thought — worst case scenario — that we would at least stay the same, that the bureaucracy would just level out and be consistent with last year’s level of paperwork. We hoped — best case scenario — that it would lessen at least a little. What we didn’t fear was that even more nonsense would get dumped on us, but perhaps we should have.

Perhaps I’m biased, but I feel the English department is getting the worst deal of all. We got new textbooks this year, and we were told we have to follow the district-provided pacing guide exactly and administer the district-provided final assessment without exception. We have to weave in other district requirements for our school without regard to whether the requirements help us become better teachers, without regard to whether the tool we have to use to do this is effective, without regard to any conflicts that might arise between this requirement and those thirteen-thousand other requirements.

Last year, we had two required “Common Formative Assessments” (God, how I hate that term now) each quarter. These were multiple-choice assessments administered through Mastery Connect (the worst program on the planet — a veritable cornucopia of bad design and worse implementation) that all grade-level English teachers had to give. They were to cover one standard. The problem is, all the questions from the district required question bank (we were told we were not allowed to create our own questions) accompany texts, so to get ten questions about one standard, we were having kids read five or six texts. An assessment we were told should take fifteen to twenty minutes invariable took the entire class period. Occasionally, the questions themselves were useless. If the standard was about finding evidence in a text, the question would often be a “Part B” question: “What is the best evidence to support the answer in ‘Part A’.” Where’s part A? Who knows? Buried somewhere in Mastery Connect.

This year, though, we’re required to do three CFAs (we love our acronyms in education) per quarter. That means three full class periods to administer an assessment that — here’s the real kicker — none of the English teachers even think is useful. It is, in short, a total waste of time so people further up the chain can write reports for people further up the chain from them.

All without asking for any feedback about the efficacy of the procedures we have in place.

Additionally, we now have a required CSA — Common Summative Assessment. We’ll just use the district required unit test the fulfill that requirement, but the first unit’s test is eighteen pages long. We estimate it will take at least two class periods. And right after taking that test, they’re taking a benchmark test (for which we shorten all classes that day to half an hour and give them the entire morning), which is essentially the same damn test.

And we’re to do that every single quarter.

That’s six or seven days per quarter just for assessments that we the teachers don’t even think are effective. That’s twenty-four to twenty-eight days of the school year. That’s 13-16% of the entire school year just for this asinine testing. And that doesn’t even take into consideration the other days for other alphabet soup tests. Taken altogether, we’re looking at nearly 20% of the school year spent taking useless multiple choice tests.

And when students don’t do as well as we think they should, do we step back and say, “Hey, what did we make the teachers do that could have contributed to this”? Of course not: teachers are the only variable in this whole equation that districts can boss around and legislatures can legislate, so we take the blame for everything.

If either of our children were thinking about going into education, I would tell them that I’m not paying for their college unless they do a double major and take a second degree in some other field so they have options for when they’re facing the situation that we’re facing. I’m fifty-one years old; this is only getting worse; I have few to no options but to keep plowing through it.

But after today, I’d almost kill for options outside the classroom.