Pam Webb

a writer's journey as a reader

Archive for the tag “teaching”

Jane Austen: Smart Reading


If you are here it’s because the Jane Austen in the title tweaked your interest, right? Well, beyond being one of THE best writers in the literary canonical group of authors listed in the universal TBR list, she is actually a teacher. Actually, Stanford neurobiologists and English professor Natalie Phillips picked her book Mansfield Park to determine a connection between critical reading and brain activation patterns. (source: Luminosity)

Cover of "Mansfield Park (1999)"

Cover of Mansfield Park (1999)

The procedure went like this: an MRI scanned the brains of 18 participants as they read MP. These weren’t ordinary students, no struggling juniors or seniors assigned Janey as an honors read; no, these were PhD candidates. The reason being the researchers wanted to make sure close reading, the reading for analysis, was properly done. Going for a doctorate would probably ensure smarter reading practices. Participants read for “fun,” that is, casually read and then they were asked to close read.

Results: critical reading increased bloodflow throughout the brain, especially to the prefrontal cortex, which is considered to be the center of thoughts and actions and our social behavior.

Implications: close reading, the method of critically studying a text, indicates a connection between shaping and shifting cognition

My Understanding: Sheesh! I’ve been doing this for years. “Hey kids, read this and let’s figure out what it means.” Oh yea, this is what Common Core State Standards is all about–we give students higher level reading material and ask them to think about what they are reading. Like I said *I’ve been doing this for years*.

Okay, do I get my honorary PhD now?

The Twelve Days of Christmas Break


English: Second verse of "The Twelve Days...

Saturday the 21st I woke up realizing break had finally happened. Endless days stretched ahead of me, at least two weeks (plus) worth of no lesson plans, or grading papers, or slogging out of bed when it’s dark to teach teens who would rather not be taught, only to return home in the dark. The gift of vacation. And then that old standby of The First Day of Christmas zipped into my head and I decided to make my own song: On Each Day of Christmas Break I Gave a Gift to Me (okay, the rhyme scheme is off, but it’s the thought that counts, right?)
A snub at the alarm
Staying up way too late
Last minute shopping
Visits with the family
Thoroughly cleaning house
Reading and napping
Working on my novel
Lunching with my sweetie
Walking in the winterwonderland
Reading cards and letters
Getting a new haircut
Eating most indulgently
Joining the gym
A joyful little getaway
Celebrating the New Year
Post Holiday shopping
And returning to the classroom completely renewed, refreshed, and ready for 2014!

Committed to Poetry or Was that Commentary of Poetry?


English: Former United States Poet<br /><br /> Laureate (2... Admit it–we like poetry
because for the most part it’s a quick commitment. Two to five
minutes we get our emotions stirred, we open up our imagery files,
and we tuck away a line to ruminate on.  This is not cynicism,
merely observation. We love, love, love poetry more than we love,
love, love short stories. At least, this is what I am beginning to
surmise as I dole out literary experiences to high school students.
Since I’ve been English literature teachering for the past
decade, I have discovered poetry is amazingly versatile in its
ability to stir up passion in students.  Students  run
the Richter scale of response of “Just hand me a dull spoon so I
can dig out my eyeball” (LOL–actual quote from a senior) to
“Poetry! I love poetry! Can we write our own poems!” (yet, another
true quote). There doesn’t seem to be much of the middle roading
when it comes to reading or writing poetry. Why is that, I wonder?
My students aren’t sure either.  Somewhere between Shel Silverstein and Shakespeare
sonnets the love of verse becomes irrevocably squashed.
I think Billy Collins presented oh so well:

Introduction To Poetry

I ask them to take a poem and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its
hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem

and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s
room

and feel the walls for a light
switch.

I want them to
waterski

across the surface of a

poem

waving at the author’s name on the

shore.

But all they
want to do

is tie the poem to a chair with
rope

and torture a confession out of
it.

They begin beating it with a
hose

to find out what it really
means.

Thank you,
Billy. I am trying to convert my rubber hose approach into one of
ski rope handles.
One of my goals as a teacher is to inject the love of
words into my students.  I want them to turn to poems like
they do to their tunes.  After all, song lyrics are mostly
poetry with infused music.  Once students realize that if they
actually unplugged their buds long enough to actually read
their play list lyrics out loud they will see all those
literary terms of assonance, imagery, rhythm, rhyme, simile,
allusion floating around.
I try not to have them beat the stuffing out of
poems.  I much prefer them waterski and wave in
acknowledgement as we launch out on poetry’s
waters.  Grooving on poetry is, I hope contagious. My
excitement at reading a really marvelous poem out loud causes me to
have physical reactions.  The other day I read Seamus Heaney‘s “Digging.”

English: Picture of the Irish poet and Nobel P...

English: Picture of the Irish poet and Nobel Prize winner Seamus Heaney at the University College Dublin, February 11, 2009. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound

When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.

 

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.
By God, the old man could handle a spade.
Just like his old man.
My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner’s bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.
The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I’ll dig with it.

 

When I finished reading the poem
out loud I sucked in my breath and danced a bit in
place, so moved was I with Heaney’s wordsmithing.  My AP
students benignly tolerate my antics. I’m hoping my
unfettered appreciation will one day stir them  into
showing me their unabashed admiration.
Considering I had minimal
exposure to poetry during my own K-12 school days, and didn’t
really discover its merits until college, I am continually amazed
at its power to stir my emotions.  I valiantly want to pass on
this joy to my students and even before the Common Core required a
unit on poetry, I taught it anyway.
My commitment to poetry is my
commentary on how words artfully placed meaningfully lend a
dimension to our lives that makes us linger to inhale the
fragrance of as Coleridges states, “the best words in the best
order.”
Do you have
any poems that cause you to dance a bit in place when you read
them? Oh, do share.

There is no rhyme nor reason to poetry…


at least according to some of my freshmen.  I can understand their point. Who wants to study grammatically incorrect phrasings and try to make sense of what they are talking about when you are doing all you can at trying to get a handle on whether it’s “A” day or “B” day and what lunch you have (“ummm, first lunch on “A” day or was that “B” day?). But we’ve made a commitment to Common Core and it’s full speed ahead.

Cover of "Dead Poets Society"

Cover of Dead Poets Society

Actually, I’ve always been a proponent of poetry.  I’ve brought cowboy poets into the classroom, Beatle songs, clips of Robin Williams doing his crazy wonderful teacher in Dead Poets Society, and provided recipes for poems.  I had football players writing love poems and entering contests, mud boggers writing sonnets about their trucks. We’ve explored performance poetry through Taylor Mali’s incredible YouTube videos and we’ve participated in a packed-out community program of youth performing their own poetry.

Common Core though, I’ve noticed, has dented my zing. I’ve been having students prepare for their SBAC (I should know what that means) by writing up reaction paragraphs to each poem as a means of them practicing their critical thinking skills. There is nothing wrong with understanding and recognizing how, or what, or why the poem works, yet poetry is so different from prose. It should encourage the soul to sing. I’m afraid in my zeal for my students to do well on their tests by getting their writing skills up to stuff I’ve lost my way towards my original goal of greeting me with “What’s the poem today?” with that anticipation of a new flavor to relish.

Hmm, some Walt  Whitman and Song of Myself might do it…

Cover of "Song of Myself (Shambhala Centa...

Cover via Amazon

Understanding and Using English


One of those Tome Treasures I own is an old grammar handbook: Understanding and Using English. It’s publish date is 1949 and it is by the Birks, Newman B and Genevieve B, respectively. I am always curious and interested in browsing old grammar books because grammar used to have more active precedence in prior years, especially in English courses.  Now, it’s more about writing, but how can one write well without knowing how to put words together?  It’s like requiring a person to cook without showing them where the spices are in the rack.

Usually old grammar books are a snore and a half.  I was proved wrong. The first chapter “Language and Meaning” introduction floored me with its eloquence:

Modern man lives in a world of words, and the kind of world he lives in depends to a surprisingly large extent on the words that he uses and hears. Words can make or prevent wars, solemnize marriages or invalidate them, form constitutions or destroy them, sell shoddy or superior products or ideas, justify man’s worst actions or express his highest ideals. Because of the immense power of language, or even a few words, advertisers pay large sums for the best phrase or slogan or jingle, and no responsible statesman feels free to depart from the letter of his carefully prepared speech. Lawyers may spend hours in court trying to fix the meaning of a single word, and one of the chief functions of our Supreme Court is interpreting the words of the law of the land.

I am considering opening my initial grammar session with this.  Words and their meaning are so important.  How they are portrayed is essential, and so it is essential we know the rules of the road. More good stuff:

Since language is so important, it is strange that in our society more people have a reasonably accurate idea of how an automobile works and how to handle it than of how their native language works and how to handle it.  Even poor drivers know what the accelerator and the steering wheel and even the brake are for, and have some knowledge of the relationship between the cylinders and the gasoline and the spark. They can use road maps to drive a car from New York to San Francisco and can arrive at Sand Francisco without difficulty.

Okay, when this book was written  cars and traveling was probably simpler. However, the analogy remains that people can learn to navigate a car down the road better than they can constructing a sentence.  Why?

For one thing, [students] have often been led to accept and to follow uncritically a large number of rules for the writing of “correct” English. Suppose we look, for example, at some of these “rules.”

1. “Never end a sentence with a preposition.” Must we always say, “On which chair do you wish me sit?” and never “Which chair do you want me to sit on?” Of course not.

2. “Don’t use contractions.” Many English teachers have written this as a comment on themes. Are the teachers using incorrect English?

3. “Avoid slang.” Does this mean that a sports writer or a person writing on jazz must avoid all use of slang?

4. “Never begin a sentence with but or and.” Never? But we are doing it at this very moment.

5. “Always use a comma between two independent clauses joined by and, but, for, or, nor.” In “I was there and he wasn’t,” what good would a comma after “there” do? Probably none at all.
6.”Every sentence must have a subject and a predicate.” If this is always true, why do so many able writers–Steinbeck, Dos Passos, Thomas Wolfe, to name just a few–frequently write sentences that are incomplete, and why do such sentences into English texts as models of style?

That came out of 1949!  I so applaud how the Birks poke at the conventions of stuffiness. My students come up with the above observations all the time! Here is one of the stellar gems of reflection:

Language has been called “the dress of thought”; like dress it needs to be appropriate. Formality and a certain type of correctness are sometimes necessary and desirable, but for everyday expression (written and spoken) a less formal language is usually appropriate, and a different and less formal standard of correctness apples.

All I can say is: Exactly!

The rest of the book is divided up sections of use: Conventions and Meaning; Exercising Intelligent Choice; Developing an Effective Style; Good Paragraphs; Language in Action plus Some Everyday Uses of English.

I think I will settle in with this as my primer for returning to school.  This fall begins the focus on Common Core Standards and last year as I piloted the ninth grade curriculum it became more than apparent that students didn’t give much credence to grammar and were often perplexed by it.  Maybe I can stretch out that car analogy since many of my freshmen will be driving by the end of the year *I always tell them to warn me when they get their permits-jk, jk*: “Hey kiddos, if you can read and memorize the driver’s ed manual in order to pass your test, I know you can do the same with grammar!”

Wait–I know. I will morph the sagacity of this little grammar tome with the unequivocal wisdom of The Beatles:

Grammar police

Grammar police (Photo credit: the_munificent_sasquatch)

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Yeah. Put your pedal to the metal as you commit to your commas.

Then again, maybe I’ll just fall back on the help of Schoolhouse Rocky because, as you know, Knowledge is Power:

Fully and Truly


christmas paint

christmas paint (Photo credit: cassie_bedfordgolf)

 

It has been a full week and there is one more day to go.  Monday a snow day (yay!), vocab tests, To Kill a Mockingbird completions, giddy (if not rowdy) teens waiting for Christmas Break to begin, Professional Learning Communities, paperwork, grading, parent meetings, and I would say I am fully and truly ready for Friday to arrive.

 

And so it is ever so nice to click on the notification link and see an award nom.  Ironically, my energy being at its lowest and feeling fairly blah around the edges as I countdown minutes to Christmas Break, Mary Meddlemore nominated me for

 

 

Thanks Mary!!

 

I’m supposed to nominate 15 other inspiring blogs and provide 7 facts about myself…and now that you know how my week has been I know you will let me off the hook.  At least until the weekend?  Great.  Thanks.

 

Until I rally more energy and time I send hugs and luvs to all out there because I know I am not the only one who feels a bit bruised around the edges this week.

 

 

 

A Little Lost in Translation: Part One–“It’s Greek to me”


March may be madness for basketball fans, but here in the English courts I am knee-deep in teaching the nuances of Homer and Hamlet and Caesar (oh, my).  Freshmen get to sail the seas with the wandering Odysseus, while sophomores figure out if they would have followed Brutus or Antony after those stirring funeral speeches, and the seniors decide the course of tragic hero Hamlet.  No matter how I teach it:  lively YouTube clips, polished PowerPoints, thought-provoking pair share activities, or No Fear Shakespeare helps, something gets a little lost in translation.

For instance, working with freshmen is tricky.  Most are on the cusp of maturity, and often senselessly slip into giggling fits of pubescent behavior at the mere mention of certain subjects.  Especially when they drift into PG-13. I’ve always wondered how to best approach the subject of Odysseus’ habit of dallying with those goddesses.  I mean, honestly, Penelope is keeping the home fires burning and keeping true to her man while raising their son, crushing the olives, and staving off lascivious suitors while Odysseus keeps company with the likes of Circe and Calypso.  Willing prisoner, my foot.  The guy couldn’t figure a way off the island for seven years?  We read about him crying during the day facing the sea, his heart breaking for Ithaca and Penelope, and we stir up a little bit of compassion.  At night?

A couple of years ago I asked my across-the-hall coworker how he explained the nighttime adventures of our lonely Greek epic hero.  Scrabble.  Excuse me?  He told me he would explain to his ninth graders that during the day Odysseus pined for Penelope, but at night he couldn’t resist playing Scrabble with Calypso.  Circe is another story.

So I borrowed the Scrabble euphemism and it worked well until two years ago.  A big backfire ensued.  A sweet girl who must have been preoccupied when I first began the lecture, brightened up when I mentioned Scrabble.  Popping up from her head-down reverie she exclaimed, “Scrabble?  I love Scrabble!  I’d play Scrabble every night if possible.”  Yup, pandemonium in the classroom.  It took about ten minutes to quell the masses of giggling hysteria, plus I had to smooth over the collateral damage to my naive student of the moment.

You think I would have learned my lesson.

This year once again I’m teaching freshmen and once again we cruise up to Calypso and her night time activities.  This year Yahtzee became the fill-in-the blank.  Oh, did they run with that.  I told them it didn’t qualify for an in-text citation reference in their unit essay.  I know they will sneak it in anyway.

Homerian values of men just gotta be men and women staying true make for decent discussion in terms of  how roles of heroes have changed over time and what values are esteemed in society. However,  our current textbook has sliced and diced The Odyssey’s twenty-two books into a pale, anemic handful of adventures, and even those are abridged to anorexic shadows.  Trying to make a cohesive unit out of hobbled material is definitely challenging.  It all works out though–we read a bit then watch a bit of the 1997 movie (a remake, please?) and I explain and translate the dissected textbook offerings  into everyday vernacular.  Even though it sounds a little erratic, by the time my little freshies are done with their three weeks with Odysseus they have the foundations of epic heroness down so when they get to senior English and face Beowulf there is something to dredge up and refer to.

Truthfully, The Odyssey is not my most favored unit; I’m not much into mythology, the whole gods/goddesses messing around with humans is irritating, to say the least. Nevertheless, the unit is a curriculum requirement, which means I do my best to make it enjoyable for my students.  They learn how to create a reader’s journal while duly noting epic hero characteristics and through the process discover how ancient literature can still transfer a thrill, but most of all they appreciate how it’s all about doing the right thing and that there is no place like home.  You did know Dorothy is an epic hero,  didn’t you?

Next stop: “The play’s the thing”– trying to get my seniors to groove on Hamlet

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