Hands

A couple weeks ago I went with a few colleagues to The Literacy Promise, a conference in SLC.  Most of the sessions were enjoyable, but one that I went to stood out to me.  Those of you who teach English should know who Penny Kittle is.  If not, repent immediately and go purchase, read, annotate, and devour a couple of her books.

Her session addresses using writer’s notebooks in the classroom.  A short lesson in revision struck a chord with me, and I’ve decided to share it with you.  By the way, if any of you in the area get a chance to attend The Literacy Promise (held every two years), it is worth the cost.  Get your administrators to spring for the registration in April 0f 2014.

Anyway, as my friend Nacho says, “Anywhays…”…

Penny started before her session by graciously chatting with me about a few teachery writing-type things.  And she signed my book.  I am such a geek!

This particular segment started as she passed out a copy of Sarah Kay’s poem “Hands,” which we then watched the author perform via YouTube.  Check her other stuff out as well.

We were asked to annotate the poem as we read it through the second time.  We traced our hands—not to make Thanksgiving turkeys, mind you, but to give connect us to our past.  We brainstormed any connections we had to our “Hands” annotations, as well as any other images, stories, etc. that came from our hands.  We, in five minutes, circled words and phrases, jotted noted, drew diagrams, vomited our ideas onto paper.

She then gave us an additional five to choose one point from the mess before us and start writing an anecdote about it.

We stopped mid-idea.

And then we had to revise what we had barely eked out of our pens as quickly as we could (two minutes).

Then we turned and talked to a neighbor, not about our stories, although it was what came naturally, but about what we revised, how we revised.  Here I go flashing my geekdom, but I rather enjoyed that little chat with my pal Cassie.  In those two minutes, I saw my revision process as I never had before.  I was systematic; there was a method to my clichéd madness.

Now, I’m not going to go in depth with my geeky revelations, but I thought I might share that process with the few that have ventured this far.  I tried this activity with my 9^th graders…and it worked.  Of course, I extended their time.  And the best part by far was the conversation generated by them about their processes.  Whole-class discussion was mediocre, but what occurred between braced faces and zits was almost magic.  Almost.

So I guess I’ll share my product-somewhat revised, even though it’s not what you’re looking for:

 

                When Amy and I were first engaged she would always gush to her girlfriends how much she loved holding my hands.  She’d yank me over and showcase my palms and knuckles like I was some kind of livestock.  Some might have been offended, but I didn’t mind.

Until then I had never really thought about my thick, gnarly, knuckle-popped sausage-finger hands: the hands that couldn’t type quickly without inserting invented letters into words; hands that couldn’t quite coordinate themselves to play the piano with any semblance of finesse; hands that didn’t have much mechanical dexterity other than a death grip of a vice.

My hands, the chunks of flesh that survived pocketknives and scout camp, electric shocks, and even meat slicers; the hooks of flesh madeover with scars and burns, scratches and stings, paper cuts too infinite to count, the knuckles bent and bruised and bloody and busted (and probably broken at one point or another)—are no big deal.

They’re just my hands.

Just my hands—smeared with ink and nervous sweat as they fumble to keep other smaller, more delicate hands close and safe from monsters under the bed, and first days of school and overly obnoxious barking neighbor dogs.

But when the human stock show closed, and we walked away, my fingers interlaced with hers, I knew my hands, though not too pretty to look at, just needed to be good enough.

I might turn it into a poem.  Whaddya think?

Found Poetry?

There comes a time in every book’s life—every book that has been loved—that is, where decomposition becomes inevitable. And more frequent is the case when you own a classroom library where hordes of seventh graders teeming with pent up, book-destroying energy pillage and plunder because they don’t have access to many books at home, they’re too lazy to go to the library by themselves, or I just happen to have shelves of freaking awesome books. Remorsefully, I have to “put down” several books each year. And unfortunately, those put out to pasture are, more often than not, those that are in highest demand.

Most teachers would tearfully bury each work in the recycle bin, sigh, and mope for a day or two until the next book orders arrive. Not me. I like to make use of the remnants of the shredded pages. I use them to teach with: lessons on voice, imagery, dialogue; the list goes on. Recently, one of the ways I have used these adulterated pages is through found poetry. I first discovered found poetry in a teaching reading methods class several years ago (Thanks, Dr. G) and used it frequently when I first started teaching. Then someone (or lots of someones) in the lower grades abused this awesome technique until my students had been beaten to death with it (along with haiku, PowerPoint, DOL, etc.).

But found poetry is a chance for students to play. And I like to play. With words.

So, for those of you unfamiliar with this technique, let me quickly explain the steps.

1. Give the students a block of text from something already published. Novels with beautiful similes, metaphors, personification, and other rhetorical devices work wondrously well. I let them use a page from a novel (front and back).

2. Have them circle any and all cool words or phrases that stand out to them. They don’t have to be big words, just ones that pop off the page at them. Hint: pages with a lot of names are more difficult to use, as are tables of contents or other copyright pages.

3. Rewrite the list on a separate sheet of paper.

4. Rearrange the words and phrases to construct a poem with new meaning. Key: the new poem does NOT have to be similar to the content of the original page. In fact, it’s better if it doesn’t.

5. You can add small words, change tense or number, delete parts, whatever. Get the students to manipulate the words to make sense. Have them play with punctuation and form.

6. Add a thought-provoking title.

7. Share. Publish.

Below is an example I did in front of my 7^th grade students yesterday. My words were found in Louis Sachar’s Holes (pgs. 85-86).

Original word list:

laughed

from a can

come to him next

didn’t even want it

trouble

sure to come back

unclear

spilled

after

it all happened very fast

sorry

approaching

wrong place

wrong time

bury

unthinkable

flies

unearthed

empty

stole

Here is what came from my excavation:

“Repentance”

it all

happened

fast—

wrong place,

wrong time—

unthinkable moment

approaching

sorry.

don’t

want trouble

to come back

thirsty

I’d like to see what you can do. Use my word list, or come up with one of your own. You don’t even have to obliterate a book to do it. Attach your creation here so I can share and you can say that you’ve published a poem. Maybe there will be prizes!

Waxing Pseudo-philosophical

So, here is the promised follow-up to my introductory essay. It's the philosophy statement I submitted for this latest job interview. The underlying themes of my philosophy seem to be as constant as the tide (How's that for cliche?); however, the tide pools that are created and left and reabsorbed as my life ebbs and flows change as I immerse myself in more scholarly and non-scholarly endeavors. Sometimes it feels like I just keep slamming myself against a rocky shore as I read more and more theory and philosophy. Other days I feel like everything flows like fine grains of sand through my fingers. But enough of my similes. Here's my statement. I hope it reflects in my classroom, in my teaching, and in my life:

When it comes to teaching or learning, I find that absolutes do not exist. There is no silver bullet answer for anything. The same holds true as I attempt to solidify my philosophies in concrete words. So, humbly, I search for balance as I mix my metaphors and speak my piece.

When I try and cram my philosophies into one theoretical box (or framework), constructivism fits best. It involves learners creating their own learning, with the teacher as the facilitator rather than a lecturer. Of course, it’s not a perfect match, but constructivism promotes active learning, student and teacher cooperation and collaboration, as well as personal reflection and analysis in the learning process. These foundational ideas all coincide with my beliefs about learning. I am committed to more practiced-based learning rather than lecture-based learning. I am a firm believer that each individual needs to be responsible for shaping his or her own learning experiences. Small-groups, large groups, as well as individualized learning activities abound in my classroom.

Teachers are not just dispensers of knowledge. They need to be active participants in the learning, helping the students form their own course of study within the boundaries of the class. Besides differentiating instruction for individuals, teachers need to serve as an example of a learner in his or her discipline. For example, when I want to teach my students how to write, I write in front of them, I write with them, I take them through the process. I show them that good writing is hard, but I also show them how hard work is rewarding. When I model correct behavior, work ethic, and appropriate reading and writing strategies, as well as my passion for the content, student apprehension dissipates and confidence builds. Everyone needs a high-quality model.

Accordingly, students cannot sit like bumps on a log and absorb the knowledge of the instructor. Relying on osmosis doesn’t work either. Learners must contribute to the scope and shape of the class to create their own learning. They need to be active participants, involved in critical inquiry and collaboration. Direct instruction, specifically lecturing, doesn’t work for all learners. Multiple strategies need to be employed to engage learners with multiple styles.

Students bring a lot to the learning table with their prior knowledge and experiences, their culture, their home (and other) cultural and social literacies. As I have shifted over time into a more constructivist paradigm, my students appear to be are more engaged and willing to learn. More of my marginalized students come out of their personal bubbles to participate and contribute to the classroom community. My approach is more concerned with depth and understanding, or connectability, than memorization. Perhaps because I am personally horrendous at memorizing facts and figures, this deeper understanding appeals to me as an instructor and as a learner.

I am the first to admit that I do not have all the answers, but I am trying to find them. Students are individuals; they have individual needs, and individual ways of learning. The best I can do is treat them as individuals, utilize a multitude of strategies, provide an inclusive learning environment, serve as the model of a passionate learner, and allow them the space to grow one step at a time.

Again, as usual, I am willing to answer questions or take criticisms. Feel free to argue. Fire away!

P.S. I'm still waiting to hear about the job. Probably won't hear for another couple weeks.

What I've Been Up To Lately

As some of you already know, I have applied for a position at Utah Valley University. Today I interviewed for (essentially) 6.5 hours. Now I'm done. It's out of my hands. I'll find out in about three weeks the jury's decision. But no matter what happens, it's been a good experience, a chance for me to verbalize and vocalize some of my beliefs and theories and methods and practices. And I wanted to share with you two pieces. The first, which follows, is part of the cover letter I sent. Now, I am re-confessing that I have used bits and pieces of this essay for multiple endeavors, and it has served me well. I believe it shows a little of who I am as an educator, as a learner, as a writer, and as a human being. Any feedback would be helpful. I'll post the second piece, my most recently written philosophy statement, in a day or so.

Embellishment. What might seem a great vocabulary word for a fifth-grader plagues me to this day—it’s what Mrs. Curry repeatedly accused me and my C- handwriting of overdoing when it came to my compositions. Despite my protests that dry, crusty facts were boring without a little gravy on top, my passion for details and descriptions caused me to lose points on more than one occasion. Writing the bare minimum for any assignment, report, grant, or speech never quite cut it for me. Words are potent. And as a teenager is drawn to pepperoni and cheese, I was, and still am, attracted to the power of words. As my writing matures, and the embellishments are tamed and more polished, my passion for the writing process burns brighter.

For twelve years I’ve been teaching language arts in the public school system, attempting to share my passion with young readers and writers, even those bordering on illiteracy. And I love it. One of my biggest disappointments comes in the students’ ability to write. Perhaps the only thing worse is their apathy, their lack of enthusiasm for writing. They’d rather have their underwear run up the flagpole or be pegged repeatedly by red playground balls than be forced to squeeze a sentence onto the paper, let alone a paragraph or two. Essays and personal narratives constitute tortures worse than death.

Unfortunately, I believe quite a few teachers do the bare minimum when it comes to having students write. Maybe it’s due to overcrowded classes, or just a general fear of grading papers, or guiding students through the writing process. Whatever the cause, I don’t believe teachers fully pass along their love for language be it through practice or preaching. Bummer.

As part of my teaching experience, I’ve been privileged to work with and mentor new teachers as well as pre-service teachers. Because of this opportunity, I’ve been able to witness multiple types of teaching and classroom environments. I’ve witnessed firsthand the change in education due to politics, economics, and other outside forces. And with all these contributing factors, writing gets asphyxiated slowly by multiple choice end-of-level tests and other forms of required assessments.

However, despite all my experiences—both in the classroom and in school leadership roles—I feel that I could do more good for public education and the furthering of effective writing practices by moving to the university level in order to have a stronger influence on pre-service teachers. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t want to abandon the public schools entirely. Public education holds the keys to the future. I believe that the best way to better public education is to form a stronger partnership between it and higher education. And although I know that I have not yet completed my doctoral degree—I’m still plowing through the coursework—working with pre-service English teachers is where I’d love to make my mark.

My voice and my heart lie in young adult literature. My experience teaching junior high pubescent geeks has given me insight into the normal abnormalities of the age group, and I hope to capture that awkward period of everybody’s life in my writing, in my practices, and hopefully, one day in the methods and strategies I can pass along to pre-service teachers en masse.

To expound a little further, my literacy interests involve teaching writing, the pedagogy and practice, and the relationship it has to reading, especially with adolescents and their connections to the world through multiple literacies. Student motivation for reading and writing has also been an interest of mine, especially in reference to boys, as well as looking at those students who may either be advanced or those who are more reluctant in their literacies. Teaching comprehension of literature through effective use of strategies also falls under my realm of understanding and practice. In conjunction, I love to help those who come to play the school game with literary disadvantages understand that through the use of strategic reading and writing, they, too, may achieve great heights in the literacy world. My other interests include managing the physical aspects of the classrooms, the acceptance of new/alternative literacies (especially with technology), and thinking outside the box when it comes to the methods of teaching reading and writing. Finally, I believe that most of this can be realized through the training and mentoring of novice teachers; although even the seasoned ones can be taught “new” tricks through professional learning communities and collaboration. Pre-service instructional methods and field experience play a major role, and I’d like to be a part of any advancement, or for lack of a better term, embellishment of the teaching of writing, reading, and the power of words.

P.S. I thought I did pretty well. I'm curious to see if I match the hiring committee's needs.

Enigma (No, Not the '90s New Age Group)

Well, I've stooped back to the videos. However, this one has fit for a little while now. And because it might be a more real possibility, I've finally decided to post it. Stay posted for more cryptic posts. Heh heh. By next week, I'll let you in on my secret. For those that can't stand the suspense, talk to me in person...that is, if you can pin me down for more than 2.3 seconds.

This is the video link for today.

I should know by now, that all you want is music videos. (Sigh.)

"Slacking" and a Bit of Jack

I guess it's been over a month since I last posted anything. Most of you probably know that I haven't been slacking (except for blog posting) as I am underwater in my doctoral work. I've also been working on an application for a different job. I'm not going to release too many details yet, but they will be forthcoming as the future brings answers.

I've actually been reworking an essay I wrote for entrance into my Ed.D. program because I'm using the revamped version as a cover letter for this new job. I probably shouldn't put it out over the Internet at least until my fate has been decided. Now, if you want to talk about the economy of words, I've recycled the core of this essay at least three other occasions.

For those of you shaking your bony, self-righteous fingers at me, you're never going to make me feel guilty. At a recent UCTE conference (where I presented), grammar guru Jeff Anderson told me I should repackage my ideas and send them off to different publishers so I can make even more money! Maybe in the future.

Now, as I have been reviewing different types of materials, I came across a little something from Jack Kerouac that I had never read. (My American lit classes never really covered all those twisted, influential individuals from the 20th century.) So, I decided to share them with you. If you are familiar with them, just smile and nod, and bask in your superior geekdom. If not, enjoy; especially you writers:

Jack Kerouac's Rules of Spontaneous Prose:

1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house
4. Be in love with yr life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Dont think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You're a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven

Check the rest of the website for more spontaneous fun!

P.S. Maybe if you're good, I'll post a video next time. Heh heh.

Your Inner Nine-Year-Old

So...apparently...you're all in it for the videos. Huh? Well, I'm not going to cave in to peer pressure or lack thereof. And I'm not writing tonight to stress myself out with resolutions of any type. I don't think I'll post them here this year. No, I am going to share a small moment of my evening--one that sure reminded me what's important.

Lately, I've been complaining, worrying, headaching, and bellyaching about all my commitments: Ed.D. internship and class, grading, and all the usual suspects lurking in my life. I'm especially mad at my weight-loss efforts (see fattysblubberblog for more on that) as of late. It also chapped my hide that I missed the proposal deadline for NCTE. I'd been waiting all year to submit, but as my sage cousin Michelle pointed out, it's a sign of how busy I really am. And then I backed out of another presentation commitment. (Sorry.)

After rushing the five hooligans through the bath (without drowning any, I might add), we actually found ourselves with a few minutes as a family without anyone gone or heading anywhere soon. We were home for the night with 45 minutes until bedtime. Imagine that. No, harder. Really imagine that...because it doesn't happen often.

And so we started reading stories and talking about books that we thought the kids would like to read with us and to read individually. For some reason, Zac was sitting on my lap in a somewhat withdrawn air. I asked him, after a while (with the girls getting silly at this point) if he liked poems. He responded with an emphatic "No!"

"Why not?" I implored. I then proceeded to tell him about the first poem I ever memorized and recited of own free will: Shel Silverstein's "Crowded Tub." I recited it to him:

There are too many kids in this tub.
There are too many elbow to scrub.
I just washed a behind that I'm sure wasn't mine.
There are too many kids in this tub.

Immediately he rolls into fits of laughter, drowning the other chaos in the room, silencing the girls' giggling. His hysterics lasted for at least three minutes without a breath. Tears. Red face. He tries to recite it to his audience. More tears. Even redder face. Silent laugh. Thump. He falls of the couch. And everyone dissolves.

And now I see that every once in a while everyone needs to just embrace that inner nine-year-old humor. As an adult I don't giggle any more, but there are times, especially when it's late, that the laughter and tears break forth, not to be stayed for several uninterrupted minutes. What beats a belly laugh that lasts so long you get a simultaneous jaw and gut workout?

I challenge everyone out there to find something that triggers that happy, giddy, lose-all-rational-control laughter. Slapstick. Looney Tunes. Gary Paulsen's Harris and Me. These are a few of mine. If you have trouble, resort to low-brow pre-adolescent potty humor. It's all about the farts. Go find your nine-year-old no matter how many wrinkles you have now. And that, my friends, is what poetry can do for the soul-even for stinky nine-year-old know-it-alls.

Last One?

Well, I'm cutting it close again; that's nothing new. And again I've had trouble coming up with something fitting for the day. I thought of end-of-year-ish ditties such as "It's the End of the World As We Know It" or even "1999," but I don't think so. Blah.

I think I'm just going to post another cool video that I use with my students for exploring text in depth and adding meaning through context. It's also just a cool video and song. And I guess it kind of fits a New year's resolution type theme as well. It's "What I've Done" by Linkin Park. I'll post a complete list of the videos in the next day or two. Maybe I'll write something different as well.

Like always, I invite comments, complaints, cupcakes, or any type of feedback.

Have a bodaciously radical 2012. (Yes, I really did just say that.)

Three-Play

In honor of BYU's three consecutive bowl wins (not really, but it fits), I am going to post the first three music videos I remember seeing in a house. When we went roller skating in first and second grades, they would lower an enormous screen and we would watch Michael Jackson, Madonna, The Oak Ridge Boys, and my personal favorites: Van Halen's "Jump" and Weird Al's "Eat It." However, I'm not going to post links to those beauties, although feel free to pursue them on your own.

My first exposure to music videos that I remember watching in a home--not in a public place--was MJ's "Thriller." My dad brought it home from the video store, along with the VCR, pizza, and root beer. It was awesome! Plus it gave my little brothers nightmares for weeks.

I was living in Vegas and my friend had MTV--not a chance in my house. The next two videos were Run DMC's "You Talk Too Much" and A-Ha's "Take On Me"--an eclectic mix, I know, but that's what I saw before we turned on the Atari. Enjoy a small shot of my music video history.

A Bit of Reflection

Today, for some unknown reason, I've been thinking about the Christmas of (I think it was) '93. I was delivering Christmas cards to friends on Christmas Eve. I stopped at the KFC where I used to work to say hey, but also to rustle up some grub, because one of the managers still gave me free food at the end of the night. The doors were locked at 6:00 that night for the holiday, but I was let in by a friend. Ana supplied the grub, Jason and Jason were mopping in the back, hustling to get out of there. A few new faces I didn't recognize milled about.

The snow flurries picked up a bit. I sat in a booth with Ana and one of the Jasons. I believe Becky was there or maybe Steph, too. Without warning somebody screamed. Before we could react, one of the newer employees came rushing into the dining area. The store had just been robbed! While I was eating my dinner!

To corroborate the commotion, the other Jason stumbled in from the back door, blood running down his face. To make a longer story shorter, we spent the next hour and a half answering police questions. I was late getting home. Mom was not happy.

A single of The Cure's "Lovesong" was stuck in my car's tape deck. Yes, I know it's a weird video. It's a weird story, too.

Yeah, I Know...

I got a little sidetracked by a beautiful woman and a hot date last night, and by the time I remembered I needed to post, it was today...dinnertime to be precise, so I "Apologize" to those few who may or may not have cared to check in.

Keepin' the Muppets Alive a Little Longer

I don't know what it is about Jim Henson's awesomeness, but I can't get the new muppet movie out of my mind. Even after unpackaging countless Barbies, Polly pockets, Strawberry Shortcake figures, Littel people play sets, videos, and helping construct a Lego Millennium Falcon, and seeing the lights on Temple Square, it's stuck in there.

So tonight's post refers back to that and my childhood (yes, again). Don't worry, though; I can't go too far back. It also connects a bit with previous encounters with Legos.

"We Built This City"

New Toys

I've been bust playing with new toys (mine and the kids') today, so here's a blast from my childhood...you know, the past. More on the technology later.

Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto.

Short and Simple

Have yourselves a merry little Christmas...or else!

Merry Muppet Christmas Eve!

So, following our annual tradition, we took our kids to a matinee before going to dinner (at the Brick Oven) and the nativity at Aunt Carol's house. And this year's feature happened to be the New Muppet Movie. So as you may have already guessed what's in my head, I'm sharing with you so you could get it stuck in yours. Merry Christmas! ("Mahna Mahna.")

We also had a very touching moment or two during the nativity, as put on by the kids. We finished, as always with "Silent Night." So today's two-fer should leave you pondering more than the jolly red-suited fat dudw who needs to shortly make an appearance.

Again, Merry Christmas.

Just Because

It seems that since Christmas Break started not too many people have been check out the video of the day. It's good to see that most of you have some semblance of a life. But anyway, I don;t really have a song that means anything today. There just wasn't too much music today apart from the Michael Buble Christmas I gave my wonderful wife and the slow, mushy romantic stuff at the wedding reception we went to this evening. Among all the running down of last, and I mean L.A.S.T. presents, the changing of the oil in dos coches, the registering of R2, the grading of papers (yes, still), carpeting and tiling a dollhouse, and other various running around, there wasn't a whole lot of music of note.

So, I'm just posting one of my favorite videos of the past few years. i mean, come on. When is a little Weezer not a good idea? So here's "Pork and Beans" for your holiday pleasure.

Now, for those who have stuck it out, I have a reward for you. I'm going to take some requests for the last week of the year. If you have a video that just has to be played (and it strikes my fancy at the time), I'll select it and give you credit. So there. Just be sure to read the small print. (if you can find it).