Today, on the Thursday before we start spring break, on the day the NCAA tournament officially started with games airing during the school day, I was reminded exactly why I teach. It was a simple, short conversation with a student.
She called me over to her seat and said, "You know the other day, you told me you were proud of me. I'm still thinking about that today."
That is a treasure chest moment.
Two days ago, my students were to have written a rough draft of a spoken word poem. I had received an email the evening before. This student had written her poem, she told me, but it was really personal, and she didn't think it was very good. I told her we were revising the next day, so it would be a great time to look at it.
So we sat down at the back of the room, and she opened up the piece she had written. It was heart-wrenchingly personal. It was emotional, and it was powerful. I was a struck by the images, the sincerity, and the honesty. I thanked her for letting me read it. We talk about how creative writing often requires us to put ourselves out there, to open up our hearts or our heads and bleed on the page. She had done that. She was concerned if it was good enough, if it met the requirements of the assignment. After assuring her that that was a distant second in order of importance at this point, we looked at her poem from that angle, pointing out how she had used questions to open the poem, then turned to a statement, shifting the tone. We found alliteration in one middle line that overlapped with internal rhyme before flipping to more alliteration and rhyme to round out the line in a unique and powerful cadence. We looked at how she might work in a visual metaphor near the end to strengthen her theme, which had developed well throughout the poem.
"Oh, I didn't know that stuff was in there," she said. That's how things happen sometimes.
At one point, as we both knelt in front of one of my tables and discussed what she had written, some tears were shed. I reached over, put my had on her shoulder, leaned closer, and told her, "I am proud of you." I told her that because I truly am proud of her. She had written a really powerful poem; she had bled on the page. More importantly, she had shown me a growing confidence that allowed her to do that. An inner strength.
Sometimes, lessons are about so much more than content. Actually, most of the time, they are about so much more than content. We can never be completely sure where and when those opportunities are going to arise, or what form they will take. We have to provide an environment where they can happen, and encourage them through our daily interactions. I am blessed to teach a subject that lends itself to those lessons, to those moments. I am blessed to work among people who drive me to be better each day. I am blessed to walk into a school and a classroom full of young people who are doing great things, sometimes things that may not be noticed at first glance, but are, nevertheless, amazing. Kids who are battling every single day, looking for the chance to push themselves to be better, stronger, more. I am proud of them.
And I am proud to be their teacher and grow with them.
Thursday, March 15, 2018
Sunday, March 4, 2018
Sorry, Daryl. We Have to Move On.
Last week, The Walking Dead returned from its midseason hiatus, and the show's viewers waited with bated breath.
I did not. I wished I could have. I easily could have turned on AMC and spent time watching a premiere episode of a show that once held my students' captive I could have used it as planning time for the next day's discussions.
You heard me. Watching TWD could have been lesson planning.
You see, at BHS, we have implemented a number of new course offerings, and one of them is called Pop Culture Literature. The class sprung up from student interest. Years ago, we would have "Walking Dead Mondays" in my senior English classes. Student who were enthralled by the show would excitedly discuss how the setting had changed the conflicts, the characters such as Rick, Carol, and Dale had developed deep internal conflicts that had, in turn, created conflicts within the group, causing other characters to change drastically. Remember those days Mason, Calloway, and Kaitlin? Later, after those students graduated, sophomores like Sydney and Shalee would pick up the conversations, discussing the importance of Daryl's angel's wings, Merl's unexpected heroic turn, the Lizzie's Lennyesque looking at the flowers, and Morgan's need to clear. Students knew they could postpone a day's lesson if they could get the ball rolling in the right direction. They could focus our class time on plotline set in Georgia and Alexandria, character motivations of Michonne and Beth, the irony of Father Gabrielle's unwillingness to sacrifice himself, and the allusion of the "biter battles" in Woodbury to the diversions used in ancient Rome's Coliseum and avoid having to analyse and discuss the assigned curriculum and, you know, literature.
Because studying literary concepts and how that relate to society is, you know, boring, right?
Those conversations were relevant, organic, enthusiastic, and meaningful. Think about it. This show focuses on an ever declining society where herds of mindless beings who once were rational, thinking human being move through the landscape with consumption as their only driving force. Could any premise be more applicable to the world our young people have grown up in? The kids were learning, even if they did not realize it. Some definitely did know it, and they made the best of if. Others did not, but they still learned more about characterization, symbolism, conflict, theme, allusion, and dozens of other concepts that they may not have ever truly grasped. And they connected to their worlds, to their lives.
That is why Pop Culture Literature developed into a full class.
So, back to my original train of thought. TWD is virtually nonexistent in our discussions now. I did not even watch it in anticipation of the literary discussion it could drive the next day. Why? Do these kids not get it? Do they fail to understand the subtleties of a well-written piece of modern, popular culture literature? Absolutely not. In fact, it is just the opposite. The kids have not fallen off; the literature has. During those Walking Dead Monday's, the content was rich and begged to be analyzed. Unfortunately, the show has lost it literary edge. Students tell me the plot has become predictable and redundant. They point out holes in the storytelling, and criticise "gimmicks" that have taken over content, expressing a dissatisfaction with nonlinear storytelling that is now overdone and arbitrary rather than fresh and driven by creative purpose. They are not impressed by the special effect violence, which they feel has become gratuitous, and they feel no connections to characters because they have lost their focus.
In other words, from a literary standpoint, the show is now longer good. It is not worth their time. It does not make them feel, and it does not make them think. They want quality, and they are not mindless zombies who are going to tune in just because it is on. They are not accepting it as worth their time, as "good", just because a critic or promo tells them it was. They are thinking for themselves.
So, we examine "good literature" in class. NF, Kendrick, and Kesha are the focus some days. Riverdale seems to be gaining steam, partly because of its plot and conflicts, partly because of the character development and symbolism each one carries. We still reach back to "older" pieces, like Green Day's American Idiot, The Breakfast Club, and The Lion King to name a few, that have enough quality to stand the test of time. We examined the symbolism of the feather scenes in Forrest Gump, and I want to examine the use of black and white a storytelling technique in American History X. We will look at the literary power of nostalgia in pop culture. Eminem was once a major player in our discussions, and he still holds a place, but this last album is being picked apart, not simply because kids "just don't like it", but because, from a literary angle, it just is not a good. Sometimes, my kid disagree about whether a piece (be it song, video, show, or film) is good or not, and they have developed standards by which to measure its value, rather than just yelling louder and claiming "Yes it is!"
In other words, they are thinking, they are developing those thoughts, and then they are expressing them in a critical and educated manner.
And right now, they think The Walking Dead is not worth their time and effort. I have to respect that. There is better literature out there, more meaningful discussion to be had. Sorry, Daryl. We have move on. We've learning to do.
I did not. I wished I could have. I easily could have turned on AMC and spent time watching a premiere episode of a show that once held my students' captive I could have used it as planning time for the next day's discussions.
You heard me. Watching TWD could have been lesson planning.
You see, at BHS, we have implemented a number of new course offerings, and one of them is called Pop Culture Literature. The class sprung up from student interest. Years ago, we would have "Walking Dead Mondays" in my senior English classes. Student who were enthralled by the show would excitedly discuss how the setting had changed the conflicts, the characters such as Rick, Carol, and Dale had developed deep internal conflicts that had, in turn, created conflicts within the group, causing other characters to change drastically. Remember those days Mason, Calloway, and Kaitlin? Later, after those students graduated, sophomores like Sydney and Shalee would pick up the conversations, discussing the importance of Daryl's angel's wings, Merl's unexpected heroic turn, the Lizzie's Lennyesque looking at the flowers, and Morgan's need to clear. Students knew they could postpone a day's lesson if they could get the ball rolling in the right direction. They could focus our class time on plotline set in Georgia and Alexandria, character motivations of Michonne and Beth, the irony of Father Gabrielle's unwillingness to sacrifice himself, and the allusion of the "biter battles" in Woodbury to the diversions used in ancient Rome's Coliseum and avoid having to analyse and discuss the assigned curriculum and, you know, literature.
Because studying literary concepts and how that relate to society is, you know, boring, right?
Those conversations were relevant, organic, enthusiastic, and meaningful. Think about it. This show focuses on an ever declining society where herds of mindless beings who once were rational, thinking human being move through the landscape with consumption as their only driving force. Could any premise be more applicable to the world our young people have grown up in? The kids were learning, even if they did not realize it. Some definitely did know it, and they made the best of if. Others did not, but they still learned more about characterization, symbolism, conflict, theme, allusion, and dozens of other concepts that they may not have ever truly grasped. And they connected to their worlds, to their lives.
That is why Pop Culture Literature developed into a full class.
So, back to my original train of thought. TWD is virtually nonexistent in our discussions now. I did not even watch it in anticipation of the literary discussion it could drive the next day. Why? Do these kids not get it? Do they fail to understand the subtleties of a well-written piece of modern, popular culture literature? Absolutely not. In fact, it is just the opposite. The kids have not fallen off; the literature has. During those Walking Dead Monday's, the content was rich and begged to be analyzed. Unfortunately, the show has lost it literary edge. Students tell me the plot has become predictable and redundant. They point out holes in the storytelling, and criticise "gimmicks" that have taken over content, expressing a dissatisfaction with nonlinear storytelling that is now overdone and arbitrary rather than fresh and driven by creative purpose. They are not impressed by the special effect violence, which they feel has become gratuitous, and they feel no connections to characters because they have lost their focus.
In other words, from a literary standpoint, the show is now longer good. It is not worth their time. It does not make them feel, and it does not make them think. They want quality, and they are not mindless zombies who are going to tune in just because it is on. They are not accepting it as worth their time, as "good", just because a critic or promo tells them it was. They are thinking for themselves.
So, we examine "good literature" in class. NF, Kendrick, and Kesha are the focus some days. Riverdale seems to be gaining steam, partly because of its plot and conflicts, partly because of the character development and symbolism each one carries. We still reach back to "older" pieces, like Green Day's American Idiot, The Breakfast Club, and The Lion King to name a few, that have enough quality to stand the test of time. We examined the symbolism of the feather scenes in Forrest Gump, and I want to examine the use of black and white a storytelling technique in American History X. We will look at the literary power of nostalgia in pop culture. Eminem was once a major player in our discussions, and he still holds a place, but this last album is being picked apart, not simply because kids "just don't like it", but because, from a literary angle, it just is not a good. Sometimes, my kid disagree about whether a piece (be it song, video, show, or film) is good or not, and they have developed standards by which to measure its value, rather than just yelling louder and claiming "Yes it is!"
In other words, they are thinking, they are developing those thoughts, and then they are expressing them in a critical and educated manner.
And right now, they think The Walking Dead is not worth their time and effort. I have to respect that. There is better literature out there, more meaningful discussion to be had. Sorry, Daryl. We have move on. We've learning to do.
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