Nov. 11: What is the most important ‘lesson’ you want to teach your students?
I have to modify this to ONE OF the most important lessons because, well, that's a really big question. In a world where everything competes for their attention -- where opiates and elixirs try to anesthetize, where life is scary and beautiful, threatening and hopeful -- I want my students to learn to speak up to advocate to think for themselves. My one wish would be that they would leave this room with the knowledge -- the sacred knowledge -- that their voice matters, that their words hold weight, that their actions bring change. That they have power. (Because it's really about so much more than iambic pentameter, Poe, and pronoun agreement.) So I model and instruct and provide an arena for opinions and voices and individual styles. I teach that revision isn't just a writing skill; it's a life skill, that reflection and change can renew. And also, I pray.
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Nov. 10: Being grateful for humor - share a story about a time in career where humor played a part. Because I'm on a poetry kick, I'll share two comical moments from a poetry unit during my first year of teaching. The first part of the story happened during a poetry scavenger hunt with my English 2 class. The night before we began the scavenger hunt, I painstakingly hunted through our mediocre town library for the right combination of poetry books to add to those I had already chased down in the school library. I wanted a wide range of topics and authors so there was something to appeal to all of the students. They would get to read through pages and pages of poems with the ultimate goal of finding examples of figurative language that they would then analyze. In theory, it was a great idea. The day of the scavenger hunt, my students eagerly fought over the books I had scattered throughout the room. I was bent over a desk helping a student analyze an example when I heard Liz quietly reciting a poem out of the book at her desk. “’Have You Ever Faked an Orgasm?’ by Molly Peacock,” she read. “Liz, don’t read that out loud,” I exclaimed. “Where did you get that book?” “When you get nervous, it's so hard not to./ When you're expected to come in something/ other than your ordinary way, to/ take pleasure in the new way, lost, not knowing,” Liz continued to read, her voice growing louder as the crowd around her desk grew too. I knew I had to stop this. How could I find another job in a different district after I was fired for this? How would I handle the parent phone calls? Was my home number unlisted? Did I even know what “orgasm” meant when I was 15? “Liz! I-I said stop r-reading that. I-I obviously didn’t mean for that b-book to be in here." I rushed to her desk, spurting and stammering all the way. I felt like Eric Liddell in Chariots of Fire. The distance to Liz’s desk was so short, but it felt like it took an eternity to get there as everything around me happened in slow motion. The soundtrack to this movie would be less inspiring, though. In my mind, I heard the theme to Jaws. I finally reached Liz’s desk and pulled the book out of her hand. I turned to the cover, expecting to read 101 Sex Poems, but instead it said The Best of the Best American Poems. “I’m so going to the library to get that book after she takes it back,” Liz whispered to Sydni. I smiled to myself, thinking, “At least they’re getting into poetry.” Fast forward a few days to the day of my first ever administrator observation. I had planned The Best Lesson Ever full of great technological tools, fabulous handouts, and student involvement galore. Professional and prepared, I was nervous, yes, but I was ready. Wrapping up our study of sound devices, my students had created “Beautiful Word” poems in which they focused on the sounds of words. Their assignment the night before had been to write a nonsense poem using words that they believed had a beautiful sound. In this poem they were also to incorporate at least three different sound devices. The class started out just like any other day. I did my typical read-aloud at the beginning of the class. We were just getting into the good part of Speak, and the students listened intently as I read. I should have known it was too good to be true. It was soon time to share the “Beautiful Words” poems. Because the principal was in the room, I really didn’t think anyone would volunteer to share. Just in case, though, I gave the opportunity. Liz’s hand shot up. “Okay, Liz, go ahead,” I said, smiling at Mr. Cruzan. I obviously must be a good teacher if my students are so eager to share poetry with one another. What a welcoming learning environment I had created! Liz cleared her throat, smiled at her classmates, and began to read. I immediately had flashbacks of the orgasm poem as I caught the glint in her eye. Oh no! What had I done!? I don’t remember much of Liz’s poem, except that she repeated the word “Chlamydia” a few times. To her credit, it really is a beautiful word. I always thought it should be the name of an exotic flower, not a sexually transmitted disease, but alas, our principal probably did not think “Chlamydia” was a beautiful word. “Thank you for sharing, Liz. You made some bold, interesting choices there,” I mumbled as Liz went back to her seat. I nervously glanced back at Mr. Cruzan to see him furiously writing notes in the back of the room. I’m fairly certain he was blushing, too. I made a mental note to call the union and start updating my resumé after class. Nov. 9: What is one way you could develop the Attitude of Gratitude in your classroom or school? Try it out and let us know how it went in a couple of weeks.
As I've shared before on this blog, my College Comp students are participating in Write Whatcha Want Wednesdays (#WWWW) on their own personal blogs. This month I want them to focus on at least one blog post on a theme of gratitude. They will Write Whatcha Want With Thanksgiving; it might be a list of thanksgiving, a published thank-you note, a short story on gratitude, etc. That will be happening before our Thanksgiving break, and I'll be sure to share some of our results here. I will also continue with my postcards. If I want my students to express gratitude, then I must lead by example. And now for some personal gratitude. This weekend I got away with my family. Good sushi, Ethiopian food, time RELAXING. I am recharged and ready for another happy week. Nov. 8: Write about a memorable moment in the classroom and how it reminded you about why you love what you do.
I wrote awhile back about my love for poetry, even though my students often offer resistance. At the beginning of my poetry unit in English 2, I explain that we will mostly be reading poetry, but that I would also ask students to write at least one poem. The groans echo through the hallways. This year, C's groans were the loudest. A usually quiet student, C wasn't afraid to express that he didn't like poetry and he sure as heck didn't want to write one. I promised to make it as painless as possible, and we continued with our unit. Finally the day of the poetry writing assignment came. C saw the assignment in Google Classroom before I could even explain it. He buried his head on his desk and started the complaints again. After explaining the criteria and showing my example, the room was filled with the sounds of writing. Even C bent over his laptop, appearing to be hard at work. The bell rang, and I waited for their creations to be turned in the next day. The first memorable moment in my classroom happened later in the day when I received an email from C with the attached first draft of his poem. The email contained one line: "I think it's good." And it was. C's poem described the death of a majestic deer in the woods. His word choice and attention to detail created a vivid picture for me as I read. It was a more mature poem than many of his classmates produced. C wasn't done surprising me, though. I had already promised the students that I wouldn't force them to share their poems with the class. I would, however, provide the opportunity. Just this past Thursday several students were begging to share theirs, so I set aside a few minutes of class time to hear their voices. They stood at the front of the classroom and proudly read their creations followed by a chorus of snaps. Last to volunteer was C. As he read, my eyes welled with tears that I quickly tried to hide. I couldn't hide my pride, though. This was another moment of metamorphosis. C might never write another poem, but I'm sure he'll remember this one and the confidence that surged in him as a writer. And that, once again, is why I teach. Nov. 7: What new learning has inspired you in your career? I can answer this in three words: National Writing Project. My experience as part of the Summer Institute and Advanced Institute at the Ozarks Writing Project at Missouri State University redefined me as a teacher. I met like-minded colleagues, added a plethora of new techniques to my toolbox, and discovered my own voice as a writer. It's comical to think about my first teaching demo now. At the time I struggled to think about one good writing strategy I could teach others. Now I would have a hard time narrowing it down. Through the OWP I learned the value of working in small writing groups, the benefits of freewriting, and the strengths and struggles of peer feedback. Most importantly, my experience with the National Writing Project made me hungry. I became hungry to produce and consume words, and I became hungry to revamp my classroom. That summer as I prepped to return to the classroom, I was filled with nothing but excitement. I didn't have back-to-school nightmares. Instead I felt prepared and confident to teach my new community of writers. That feeling lingers still today several years after that initial introduction because the transformation was long-term. I am a better teacher, writer, and leader. This blog challenge is all about gratitude. So thanks, NWP. Nov. 6: Share a quote or verse that has inspired you and tell us why. I don't have a tattoo, but if I did, that is what it would say.
This has become a life motto that extends far beyond the walls of my classroom. When I compare myself to others, I will never add up. I haven't been Teacher of the Year. My students aren't all winning coveted writing awards. My house hasn't been featured on HGTV. My family? Well, let's just say it's flawed. As evidenced by the title of my blog, Teach Happy, I choose to embrace joy. So I embrace my faults in the form of annoying adult acne, messed up lesson plans, and misplaced projector remotes. It means other teachers in the building might have better rapport with certain students and more innovative uses of technology and cuter outfits on parent/teacher conference days. And that's okay. I won't let comparison steal my joy. Nov. 5: What are your strengths? Which are you most grateful for? I feel like I'm doing a lot of self-aggrandizing lately, which was never the purpose of my blog. I'm committed for 30 days for the Attitude of Gratitude challenge, though, so I'll try my best while still staying humble. The strength I am most grateful for oftentimes feels like a weakness. I'm a softie. When I take the True Colors Personality Test, I am a BLUE. I might have a tiny bit of gold, but I am mostly a blue. With the Jung typology test, I show a "distinct preference of Feeling over Thinking (62%)." This can be a weakness in the classroom because it means that students sometimes don't take my deadlines seriously. It means I'm afraid to show any emotion that might hurt feelings because I mistakenly think everyone else is a feeler like me. But this year I've decided to embrace my FEEEEEEEEELING tendencies as a strength. When a student is going through a difficult time, I try to be understanding. I show mercy and give second (and third and fourth and.....) chances. And I give the benefit of the doubt, even when it's undeserved. So I guess being a big softie isn't such a bad thing. (And I'm expressing gratitude that the next few days' prompts don't look quiet so self-inflating! Whew!) Nov 4 What was the nicest gift that you received from student/parent/colleague?
This answer is simple. My sister teaches elementary school, and each holiday season I'm a bit jealous of the multiple gift cards, scarves, coffee mugs, and candles she receives. I'm lucky to get a "Have a nice break" on the way out the door. That doesn't mean I haven't received gifts, though. My most cherished gifts as a teacher have been simple gifts of words. When I was student teaching several years ago, my mentor, Judy Holmes, told me to label a folder "Encouragement" and stuff in those little note cards and sticky notes with kind messages from students. So I did just that. On bleak days when I forget why I teach, when I'm feeling particularly frustrated, when my craft feels more like a chore, I take out this folder. I find going-away cards, thank you notes, kind comments from principals and parents. These words remind me of my purpose. And this is the greatest gift of all. Nov 3 What are you most proud of to date in your teaching career? I have a great fear of stagnation, often a paralyzing fear. I'm afraid I will wake up at the end of my life and realize that I have accomplished nothing, that my life has been for nothing. Because of this, I am addicted (sometimes in an unhealthy way) to change and motion. For example, we've been living in the same town for over five years now, and the roots scare me and keep me awake at night dreaming of new possibilities and challenges. In my classroom, though, this is an asset. And this makes me proud. I have never taught the same unit in the same way. Sure, I've taught Of Mice and Men for several years now, but I've never approached it the same way twice. Yes, I've been teaching a dual credit writing course for six years now, but I'm always adding new essays and using new strategies. In ways this makes my teaching much more difficult than it has to be. I often wonder why I create so much extra work for myself when I could be recycling lesson plans and reusing activities instead of reflecting and researching and reforming. But ultimately my students benefit from this lack of stagnation. I'm proud of the fact that I'm not too content and comfortable. I'm proud that this year I added #WWWW to College Comp and several new vocabulary strategies in English 2, that I'm always seeking new ways to make my classroom more student-centered. So maybe I haven't been named Teacher of the Year. Maybe I can't brag of my 52 students who are now published authors. But I can be proud of the fact that my teaching is always in motion. Breathe deep. Jump in.
I'm starting an Attitude of Gratitude blogging challenge for the month of November. If you've noticed, it's November 2nd, so I'm a day late to the party. Mostly I've been afraid to commit. I don't like to start something I can't finish, and writing every day like this feels daunting. Consistent reflection can only improve my practice, though, so here we go. Nov 1 What are the best aspects of being a teacher? Nov 2 What is one small delight in the day that you always look forward to? I teach for small (and big) moments of transformation. I can explain best through story. Last year a particular student and I consistently butted heads. He challenged my authority; I got under his skin. We survived the year-long required course and smiled as we parted ways at the end of the year. This fall I saw his name on my roster for an elective. "What in the world?" I thought. "Now he is CHOOSING to take my class?" And guess what? Seeing this student is now a high point of my morning. We have established a rapport, and he is working hard in class. I don't what what exactly changed the nature of our relationship. Maybe he grew up over the summer; maybe I softened some. Maybe it's the course content and time of day. Whatever it is, I'm thankful, and he is, too. A few weeks ago I sent home a postcard letting him know that I'm so glad to have him class this year, that his work in my class has been inspiring. And in one of those teaching moments that are fictionalized in movies like Freedom Writers and Dead Poets Society, this student found me in the hall right after the postcard was received. "That was so cool, Mrs. Witt," he began. "You should've seen the smile on my mom's face. She's not used to getting good news home from school. She's mostly used to getting calls that I'm in the office again." And that is why I teach. Through this profession, I can witness transformation. That story is just one illustration of the moments of metamorphosis I have experienced through my years of teaching. The answer to the second day's prompt is a bit more self-centered. Each morning as my first hour students enter the room, I sit at my desk with my cup of tea. This is my time to collect my thoughts and prepare for the day. Many days the sky outside my wall of windows looks like this, and no matter what frustrations might be around the corner, in those quiet moments I remember that Gratitude Evaporates Frustration. |
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