Today was gratifying. For the last two weeks, I've been running a special CAHSEE math study group. Today, in addition to the normal meeting, we had 1.5 hours optional after school. Not only did most of the class stay for it, but two students stayed an additional half hour after that, just because they were having fun.
The really cool thing? Those two who stayed were the same two black girls (and only two black girls in the school) who were the most disillusioned and disaffected at the beginning. By the end, they were laughing, solving complex problems, and saying things like, "I feel smart!"
It's been interesting doing this math study group. First, I've enjoyed it enough that at this point I feel really excited about pursuing a math credential, which my school wants me to do, but previously I'd been feeling a little leery of. Second, and perhaps more importantly, it's made me think about teaching English.
In math, there's a right answer. There's a tangible, demonstrable skill, attempts can be quickly iterated, and answers can be provably right or wrong. In a way, that makes it so much simpler than teaching English!
Looking at my English practice (and commonly the practice I've observed in other classrooms) there is little building of skills. A lot of the measure of success seems to be "did they understand what happened in this book/movie/poem?" While, sure, checking for understanding of the text seems to be a core aspect, it's hardly sufficient on it's own. That should be the /starting point/ not the end.
I have also seen classes where skills were emphasized to the exclusion of appreciating the story... and that was no better. All too often, an excessive emphasis on grammar or whatever quickly becomes overwhelming and undendurably dull.
So where's the happy middle ground? How do I teach hard, tangible, measurable English Skills, in a way that is both fruitful and fun?
I think a lot of the reason teaching math can become fun, even for struggling students, is when it becomes accessible enough that a) they feel a measure of success and triumph, and b) each new problem becomes another opportunity to triumph over a puzzle and get that rush again. Can that model even work in English?
Or, going back even further, what essential skills should I be trying to teach in English? I feel like the work we've been doing is worthwhile, but I also feel like it could be more.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
The Blackboard
For a while now I've been wanting to get into posting more regularly here, but everything always seems to be "go, go, go!" with one urgent task after another, and never any time to sit down and reflect, so I've had trouble finding the time for it. But I keep coming across these little discoveries or insights, and I'd like to record some of them here, to the best of my ability.
Hang on, my breakfast burrito is done in the microwave. This is important.
...
Okay, we can continue now. The question of course, is where to even begin. Pedagogy? The students? The school? The content?
Typically I would like to use my first regular post to do an overview, but there's so much to consider that even a weak attempt at an overview would fall well short of the mark while simultaneously being beyond the scope of a short blog post--as limited by the fact that my class starts in 25 minutes.
So instead, today, like future days (at least, according to plan), I'll focus on a single small aspect of the classroom. Today, I'd like to touch on the blackboard.
In the back of my classroom, there's a chalk board that I don't use for my teaching. It's behind all the students, I don't like using chalk anyway, and leaving it blank gives the students a space to express themselves. Inevitably it quickly becomes filled: names, dates, graffiti, and art seems to pop up there like mushrooms after rain.
Today, there is a work of art by one of the students, apparently from Nightmare Before Christmas. It's a beautiful swirling piece, with a couple standing on top of a jack-o-lantern hill. On the left side is a quickly drawn ghost haunting a house (we're approaching Halloween now) and below that the words, "Pray for Ronnie, I know you'll make it through this!" next to some graffiti. Given that at least two of my students have friends who have died of gunshot wounds, and at least two of my students have been injured by serious stabbing wounds, whatever risk Ronnie is in may be very serious.
I enjoy seeing what comes up on the board, both as works of art in their own right, and as expressions of my students thoughts and interests.
However, this question is not just one of aesthetic interest, it's also a question of practice: often the illustrations and words that appear there are, to put it mildly, not school-appropriate. Graffiti is especially challenging, as it's nearly indecipherable to my untrained eye. The stylized marks and letters, combined with a shorthand unique to that subculture, make it completely impenetrable to me.
Yesterday another teacher came into the room and gasped at what she saw in graffiti in the wall. Apparently it included things like, "kill the police" and other messages that she did not find appropriate.
So where do I draw the line? It seems unfair to ban anything I don't understand, and I want to make room for them to express themselves, but there are also certain expectations I must hold up as a teacher.
I think, as a practice for this blog, I'll be satisfied with raising a good question, even if I can't/don't answer it. So there it is.
Hang on, my breakfast burrito is done in the microwave. This is important.
...
Okay, we can continue now. The question of course, is where to even begin. Pedagogy? The students? The school? The content?
Typically I would like to use my first regular post to do an overview, but there's so much to consider that even a weak attempt at an overview would fall well short of the mark while simultaneously being beyond the scope of a short blog post--as limited by the fact that my class starts in 25 minutes.
So instead, today, like future days (at least, according to plan), I'll focus on a single small aspect of the classroom. Today, I'd like to touch on the blackboard.
In the back of my classroom, there's a chalk board that I don't use for my teaching. It's behind all the students, I don't like using chalk anyway, and leaving it blank gives the students a space to express themselves. Inevitably it quickly becomes filled: names, dates, graffiti, and art seems to pop up there like mushrooms after rain.
Today, there is a work of art by one of the students, apparently from Nightmare Before Christmas. It's a beautiful swirling piece, with a couple standing on top of a jack-o-lantern hill. On the left side is a quickly drawn ghost haunting a house (we're approaching Halloween now) and below that the words, "Pray for Ronnie, I know you'll make it through this!" next to some graffiti. Given that at least two of my students have friends who have died of gunshot wounds, and at least two of my students have been injured by serious stabbing wounds, whatever risk Ronnie is in may be very serious.
I enjoy seeing what comes up on the board, both as works of art in their own right, and as expressions of my students thoughts and interests.
However, this question is not just one of aesthetic interest, it's also a question of practice: often the illustrations and words that appear there are, to put it mildly, not school-appropriate. Graffiti is especially challenging, as it's nearly indecipherable to my untrained eye. The stylized marks and letters, combined with a shorthand unique to that subculture, make it completely impenetrable to me.
Yesterday another teacher came into the room and gasped at what she saw in graffiti in the wall. Apparently it included things like, "kill the police" and other messages that she did not find appropriate.
So where do I draw the line? It seems unfair to ban anything I don't understand, and I want to make room for them to express themselves, but there are also certain expectations I must hold up as a teacher.
I think, as a practice for this blog, I'll be satisfied with raising a good question, even if I can't/don't answer it. So there it is.
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