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.
4 Comments
Jenny Paulsen
11/10/2014 04:18:05 pm
"Bold, interesting choices"--nice save, Kim! They always turn right to the content we'd rather pretend didn't exist. 😄
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