Matching Tracksuits

fun in fours

education and teaching

Yearbooks

Today, we handed out yearbooks, and as we had an extended homeroom period, I let all the kids sign each others’ yearbooks.

This was always a fun but stressful time when I was a kid: you want to ask people to sign your yearbook and you don’t — what are they going to write? You want to sign other people’s yearbooks and you don’t — what are you going to write?

Letters

At the end of every school year, I have students write letters to the rising eighth graders who will have me in English.

“Don’t lie, and don’t exaggerate too much,” I tell them, “but I want you to give them advice and scare them. Just a bit.”

I also use excerpts from these letters on my class website, Our English Class.

Some of the excerpts I selected:

  • The Dreaded Mr. Scott is an extraordinary teacher and will become one of your favorite teachers this year but his work is no easy walk through the park. It will be difficult and really make you think. This class is not like any class you’ve ever had before. But at the end you will feel ready and prepared for what comes next, high school.
  • Mr. Scott’s class is made for those who like and can put up with everyday disasters.
  • Mr. Scott has impossibly hard standards, but he is there to help you meet those high expectations. This will probably be one of the most difficult classes that you will take throughout your education, but Mr. Scott is there to assist you along the way. He is one of the best teachers that you will ever have, and his class will thoroughly prepare you for high school.
  • Mr. Scott is arguably one of the most difficult teachers you will have, partly because of his high expectations and teaching style. Mr. Scott will always expect the best from you, and will accept nothing less.
  • This class that you have joined, can and most likely will be the toughest class you will ever take in middle school, but, it will teach you some of the most valuable lessons in writing and literature you will ever encounter.

To read these things makes me feel that I finally have reached the goal as a teacher I have always sought: to be demanding but fair; to be challenging but just.

Awards Night 2021

It's been two years since our school held an awards night. This year we held a drive-by awards night.

Diagramming

As our last group of starters, we began some sentence diagramming today. Most classes spent about 15 minutes on it before moving to Great Expectations character presentations.

In school, I always felt a little like a freak because while everyone else was complaining about diagramming sentences in school, I enjoyed it. Taking a jumble of words and placing each one in its own slot to indicate its precise function in the sentence felt like drawing meaning and order out of what would otherwise be near chaos. Sentences are a jumble of words that we comprehend without giving it much thought (if we’re fluent), yet within that apparent jumble is a simplicity that we can demonstrate graphically, even if it is a bit tricky to find that order for some sentences. Other kids groaned and complained about it, but for me, each sentence I had to diagram was a little puzzle I could crawl inside with a tool belt and take the whole thing apart as if it were a toy the inner workings of which had entranced me for ages. I knew, though, that I could put the sentence all back together, and I didn’t have that kind of assurance when pulling apart toys.

Yet even today, there are a number of sentences that flummox my diagramming ability. Look at that last sentence, for example. Had I not originally written “when I was pulling apart toys” I wouldn’t have seen the subtle, almost-hidden clause in the revised “when pulling apart toys.”

It’s these little idiosyncrasies of language that I hope to help students discover by going over sentence diagramming with them as a starter these final days.

Morning in the Hall

He comes in, earbuds screaming, slouches down against the wall, and proclaims, "I'm hungry!" Digging around in his bag, he reveals a bag of Doritos and with a rustle of ____ (Material of chips bags) adding to the chaos of the noise coming from his earbuds, he rips the bag open and shoves a handful of chips into his mouth. This is his breakfast; this is how he starts his day. He feeds his brain with aggressive hip-hop; he feeds his body with empty calories. Is it any wonder that the row of grades trailing after his name is also empty, a trail of "NHI's" (Not Handed In) and grades in the twenties, thirties, and forties.

She sits against the wall, her head down, long hair hiding her face. She hasn't spoken a word since coming onto the hall half an hour ago, and she only looks up with furtive glances that betray a desperate desire to remain invisible, to appear uninterested, to maintain an air of distance.

Jaggers

Jaggers -- the name just seems to reflect the character. Jagged and dagger-like. There is nothing rounded-off or soft about that man. He is all angles and sharp edges. Like a dagger he seems to cut straight to the heart of most matters. He's all business at all times. "I am paid for my services or I wouldn't render them," he says to Pip.

And yet he takes the care to worry about Pip and his interactions with Drummle, warning him to keep his distance.  In addition, we find in chapter 51, we read

“Put the case that he lived in an atmosphere of evil, and that all he saw of children was their being generated in great numbers for certain destruction. Put the case that he often saw children solemnly tried at a criminal bar, where they were held up to be seen; put the case that he habitually knew of their being imprisoned, whipped, transported, neglected, cast out, qualified in all ways for the hangman, and growing up to be hanged. Put the case that pretty nigh all the children he saw in his daily business life he had reason to look upon as so much spawn, to develop into the fish that were to come to his net,—to be prosecuted, defended, forsworn, made orphans, bedevilled somehow.”

“I follow you, sir.”

“Put the case, Pip, that here was one pretty little child out of the heap who could be saved; whom the father believed dead, and dared make no stir about; as to whom, over the mother, the legal adviser had this power: “I know what you did, and how you did it. You came so and so, you did such and such things to divert suspicion. I have tracked you through it all, and I tell it you all. Part with the child, unless it should be necessary to produce it to clear you, and then it shall be produced. Give the child into my hands, and I will do my best to bring you off. If you are saved, your child is saved too; if you are lost, your child is still saved.” Put the case that this was done, and that the woman was cleared.”

Here we see him not standing unaffected in the the horror of Victorian London but rather moved to save the one child he can save.

So why that hard, jagged exterior? Perhaps it's an understandable cynicism about the number of children "he saw in his daily business life [whom] he had reason to look upon as so much spawn, to develop into the fish that were to come to his net,—to be prosecuted, defended, forsworn, made orphans, bedevilled somehow." He has literally seen it all -- probably even executions of kids -- and it has made him cynical about the level of "justice" the system seems to be metes out to the less fortunate. He knows that a child born into poverty in Victorian England is a child destined to suffer for her entire life. He knows that such poverty in London leads almost always in one direction to prison. The word choice in describing this is so effective as well: he sees them "as so much spawn," just children produced without thought, without worry about the future or consequences. They're no more important as individuals as newly-spawned fish in a hatchery, and they're as easily destroyed.

I wonder if this cynicism reflects Dickens's own cynicism.

The Gargeries

The kids are reading Great Expectations, and this week we'll be working on how Dickens creates such masterfully drawn and memorable characters.

Two of the characters we're looking at are Joe Gargery, Pip's step-father, and his wife whom Pip never calls anything other than "Mrs. Joe." We first meet her in chapter one, but it's in the next chapter that we get some background information:

My sister, Mrs. Joe Gargery, was more than twenty years older than I, and had established a great reputation with herself and the neighbours because she had brought me up “by hand.” Having at that time to find out for myself what the expression meant, and knowing her to have a hard and heavy hand, and to be much in the habit of laying it upon her husband as well as upon me, I supposed that Joe Gargery and I were both brought up by hand.

She was not a good-looking woman, my sister; and I had a general impression that she must have made Joe Gargery marry her by hand. Joe was a fair man, with curls of flaxen hair on each side of his smooth face, and with eyes of such a very undecided blue that they seemed to have somehow got mixed with their own whites. He was a mild, good-natured, sweet-tempered, easy-going, foolish, dear fellow,—a sort of Hercules in strength, and also in weakness.

My sister, Mrs. Joe, with black hair and eyes, had such a prevailing redness of skin that I sometimes used to wonder whether it was possible she washed herself with a nutmeg-grater instead of soap. She was tall and bony, and almost always wore a coarse apron, fastened over her figure behind with two loops, and having a square impregnable bib in front, that was stuck full of pins and needles. She made it a powerful merit in herself, and a strong reproach against Joe, that she wore this apron so much. Though I really see no reason why she should have worn it at all; or why, if she did wear it at all, she should not have taken it off, every day of her life.

We get a lot of information in that passage, but since it's through Pip's eyes, he fails to see the nuance. Pip says that "she must have made Joe Gargery marry her by hand" but he also admits that Joe is "a sort of Hercules in strength." The question then arises: why does Joe allow Mrs. Joe to be abusive both to him and Pip? If we look at what she faced, a few things come into focus: at twenty, she was forced to raise her little brother as her parents joined five of her siblings in the church graveyard. Joe married her because otherwise, a single woman with her infant brother to raise, she would have had most likely to turn to prostitution to support them. Perhaps this has something to do with it.

Testing 2021, Day 2

I read the instructions to the kids -- the same instructions I've read for years. It's the same test program they've used for years. (Doesn't the company to which our state pays millions of dollars ever develop new software? Isn't this just antiquated after so many years?) Then comes the statement: "Do your best when answering the questions." It might not be a word-for-word quote there, but it's the gist.

I literally remind the kids to do their best.

To be fair, though, it's hard for the kids to see any sense in this test. By the time the results come back in September, they're a month into their high school adventure -- what do they care about middle school scores anymore? As far as they can tell, the test does nothing for them, affects them in no way.

That's a two-edged sword, to be honest. On the one hand, it saves them worry and stress. On the other hand, it makes it more difficult for them to take the thing seriously. And why should they?

I usually level with them: "It has no real effect on you."

"Why do we do it?" they ask.

"It's a measure of my effectiveness." If all my students fail the test, that reflects badly on me. If the expected number fail the test, I'm an adequate teacher. If fewer than expected fail the test, I'm an excellent teacher.

It's all about the numbers, as it always is. Weezer says it best:

There's always a number that'll make you feel bad 'bout yourself
You try to measure up, try to measure up to somebody else
Numbers are out to get you, numbers are out to get you
Numbers, ooh
They say that you're too short to join the team
And your IQ's too low for poetry
Numbers are out to get you, numbers are out to get you

Education has three agents:

  • students,
  • parents, and
  • teachers.

It's only that third element that can be legislated, and those numbers are a useful metric in that endeavor.

So I smiled and read again today, "Do your best when answering questions."

Ready for Covid-Era Testing

Last year, we didn’t conduct the end-of-year, state-mandated, federally-mandated, all-but-teacher-student-mandated testing because of the blossoming pandemic. This year, we’re having it.

But that presents a new problem: how to keep kids who are facing each other in plexiglass pods from cheating? (Do many of these kids really have an interest in cheating? I find that hard to believe. This test has no immediate effect on their lives, and the only time I see cheating is when a grade that will land in the grade book and affect the report card is at stake.)

The solution: the district bought thousands of sheets of poster board and even more clips so that we can attach blinders to the plexiglass.

The result: pockets of invisibility throughout the classroom. In fact, as the proctor, I won’t be able to see most of the kids at all at any given moment.

If kids are interested in cheating, the powers that be just made it a whole lot easier for them.

The Poster and the Fall

The Poster

I was out Friday so I could run all the errands and such K would normally run so she could try to rest some and get well. The kids at school took to heart the cliche about cats being away, but they did so in such a way as exceptionally clever kids with good senses of humor would do:

While at the book fair, they bought me a poster of a Korean boyband and hung it in my room. When I came back Friday, I asked them who was responsible. They admitted it with giggles immediately. “I’ll keep it up under one condition,” I said. “You all have to sign it.”

I love the fact that

  1. they thought of doing this as a funny prank;
  2. they were willing to spend the few dollars to pull it off;
  3. they knew me well enough and trusted me enough to know how I’d take it;
  4. they liked me enough to be so silly.

It’s a silly, silly gesture, but a touching one nonetheless.

The Fall

In the evening, when K, E, and I were walking to CVS to pick up a prescription (and L was at sand volleyball practice), it appeared that the Boy had had a bike wreck. He was some distance away, so it wasn’t really clear what was going on. But the bike was clearly down, and there was little to no movement.

I began jogging down the hill toward him. I wasn’t terribly worried because there were no sounds of wailing or pain. But there was no movement.

“I was just waiting for you guys,” he explained with complete nonchalance.