The American Sentence Goes to High School (On-line)

Poster sheet 1 of 3 on which one class created their American sentence
chain by posting their individual lines based on a shared-environment
free write. (4/21/15)

In years past, I would have students work with analyzing and writing a number of different poetic forms during National Poetry Month. A very standard task for schools, I know, but neither this particular school year (COVID-19!) nor the poetic structure are "traditional." So, we adjust. The unfortunate reality is that by the time I receive students in my classroom as juniors, much of the communal joy around poetry, in general, seems to have been driven from them. Most mentions of "poetry" elicit groans from classes. That doesn't mean you don't attempt to fan what small flames of affection for poetry remain. This year, what was taught and produced in our classroom over two days will now be attempted via Google Classroom. Whereas the process describe in the following (revised over last 9 school years) results in an accurate picture of a singular shared space: our classroom; this year our work will be linked by a shared experience: social distancing in our individual homes.

I like to have classes work first with that form with which they are most familiar (at least in terms of its superficial structure) and one that they especially seem to disdain, the traditional (Western) haiku. The next logical step, and one that provides as many opportunities for the meaningful application of imagistic writing skills, is the introduction of a personal favorite form, the American sentence.

The American sentence is a fairly modern poetic form initiated by Allen Ginsberg (Howl) as a means of compressing (“Maximum information, minimum number of syllables”) Western language in a style similar to that of the Eastern haiku. The key comes from a Ginsberg notion that poets are "people who notice what they notice." Ginsberg felt that divvying syllables into three 5-7-5 lines makes the poetic process an exercise in counting, not feeling. American Sentences are haiku-length poems that Allen suggested be limited to 17 syllables, like haiku in Japanese.

By using a free write centered on our classroom, at the time a common point in time and location, the class's first experience playing with this poetic form can also ultimately be used as an opportunity to collaboratively prepare an extended American sentence chain. (As the teacher, I also model the entire process from free-write to "publishing", on the computer and SMART board.) The idea that each student opening their individual awareness of a moment (or four minutes of "moments") can yield similar superficial observation filtered through varying perspectives can be powerful. The collection of sensual notes and observations taken during the free write always seem to result in enough brain fodder for students to pull two images with which to play and build their introductory American sentences.


Reviewing with class the potential contributing elements to an American sentence also creates the opportunity to review several concepts that are valuable in their analysis on literature (fiction and non-fiction) in a context that is easily accessible. For Regents-level students, the American sentence also is an excellent way to review and practice the use of figurative language. In a broad sense there is not much "new" here; students play with common literary elements in a new and open manner, by extending the but the application within the context of a modern form (an insight that some lack anyway: that understanding that forms and language do change and evolve).

Four applicable strategies in particular are especially fun to re-frame for classes:

• Imagistic: a style of poetry that employs free verse and the patterns and rhythms of common speech. 
• Found poetry: Found poetry is a type of poetry created by taking words, phrases, and sometimes whole passages from other sources (written or oral) and reframing them as poetry by making changes in spacing and/or lines (and consequently meaning), or by altering the text by additions and/or deletions. The resulting poem can be defined as either treated: changed in a profound and systematic manner; or untreated: virtually unchanged from the order, syntax and meaning of the original. 
• Busted syntax: poorly worded, incorrect syntax perhaps to illustrate a point 
• Demotic speech = of or pertaining to the ordinary, everyday, current form of a language; vernacular: a poet with a keen ear for demotic rhythms.

While one of my classes has already completed the activity (with part of the final results posted above), two more will be working through the format over the next few classes. Sadly one of the skills standardized test don't currently assess are creativity or the use by students of figurative language. This is unfortunate as this is where the majority of students excel despite the limited opportunities to develop a unique authorial voice outside the academic one favored by the exams.

Materials for 2020 American Sentence project using poetry generated by 2015 classes.

Given that the topic of the American Sentence Chain above is our classroom, occasionally the lines students' choose as their personal favorites to contribute do not reflect what I think of as a fairly productive learning environment. In addition being of the proper syllable count and imagistic, some lines evoke feedback that is personally and professionally helpful.It is always insightful to see the work of students' reflect their inner lives (at least the little of which I am aware) in writing. The American sentence is just one of the poetic forms that provide a wonderful vehicle for reflection.

The significant shift in focus in the time of COVID-19 may elicit some even more interesting insight. To be written via Google Classroom over the next few "classes", this year's individual and collaborative "products" should (fingers crossed!) reflect the diversity of our shared social distancing (oxymoron!) experience through the lens of the American sentence. This seems a perfectly natural outcome given the range of students and experience present in classes, which I miss dearly.

Sources:
Paul E. Nelson's Blog
Allen Ginsberg's American Sentences by Bob Holman and Margery Snyder

Spring Break Reading: The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane**

Prior to saying goodbye to my eleventh graders before our ten day Spring Beak, I suggested that they find a book or two to read during our time apart. Though more than a few groaned, a few asked for suggestions to which I replied a number of titles from high school cannon, such as I know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou, and even a classic from middle school that most had not, surprisingly,  even heard of, The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton. At this point a couple of students began reminiscing about titles they had (shock of shocks) enjoyed reading that I had not heard of. One young lady mentioned her affection for a book read in middle school entitled The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. As she began describing the book as being about a "rabbit doll that gets lost," I scribbled the title in my notebook for future reference. Maybe it was the promise of a rabbit protagonist or the recollection of my own prior devouring of the wonderful The Sage of Waterloo by Leona Francombe, also about rabbits.  These factors along with the student's passion for a book read years ago moved it to the front of my spring break reading list.

Right to the top of the pile.

A longtime high school teacher, I have often searched for "lighter" fiction for sharing with students, and as a reader I, too, struggle with finding meaningful books with slightly less angst. I continue wishing for lighter literary entres to consume. Given both these factors, in addition to considering myself a reasonably "well read" person, I am embarrassed to share that I had not heard of writer, and Newbery medalist, Kate DiCamillo previously. If The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane is any indication, I have been missing out by having not picked up any her many titles before. My student was telling the truth, and showing a pretty good memory in giving me a short synopsis; the book is indeed about a somewhat snooty, China rabbit (not a "doll" as he reminds us at every turn, though something he'll need to come to terms with) who goes missing. During a decades long journey, Edward comes to learn the value of loving and being loved.

This 211 page book is a joy, and like most good books, defies being placed into a box. I found this book in the children's area of my local bookstore, and after reading am going to share it with my mother who, like I, is beyond the publisher's target audience. Edward's travels take him through multiple relationships and a variety of lifetimes, but never loses a sense of the timeless. DiCamillo's narrative is further enhanced through the inclusion of illustrations by Bagram Ibatoulline. Beautifully rendered in black and white, Ibatoulline's illustrations avoid anchoring the story and character in a specific time period, and do nothing to mitigate the reader's ability to imagine the events as taking place right now. Perhaps it was my nostalgia but I found the drawing reminiscent of Beatrix Potter's Peter Rabbit art (my son's nursery had a border of the characters).

As a middle-aged high school teacher, I was impressed by DiCamillo's willingness to avoid writing down to her audience. There are heavy questions posed and big themes explored throughout, such as love, death, regret a nd patience. Lines such as "How does a China rabbit die?" (page 47), seem perfectly at home in DiCamillo's world of China rabbits and hobos. Vocabulary such as "ennui" (page 3), "discerning" (65) and "contrarian" (194), suggest an excellent opportunity for readers of all ages to add valuable words to their working vocabulary.

I am grateful for the quick conversation with one of my student's for leading me to this beautiful book. I strongly recommend The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo with illustrations by Bagram Ibatoulline to readers of all ages looking for a powerful complex read disguised as a children's book about a China rabbit!

**Originally posted March 13, 2018

My Notebooks & I

A few of my notebooks, and, yes, Michael Jackson's Invincible CD from 2001.

A basic suggestion that I have for my highschoolers who enjoy writing, but find themselves at a loss for subjects or ideas, is to carry a notebook with them during their daily travels. In the modern age, of course, you could sensibly substitute some sort of i-thing, I prefer ye ol' pen and spiral bound notebook approach. (Full disclosure: I have on occasion used the "Notes" function of my cell phone.) For times such as the current quarantine, they also provide an interesting way to look back on prior thinking and experiences as a means of mining for subject matter.


My thought process: connecting
Into Thin Air to Shakespeare
to Star Trek V.

In my estimation, this is slightly different than the Writing Journals I have my own students keep in class, though ideally the outcomes of  are similar. Those of my students who most seek to develop their skill (and love) of writing seem to understand and embrace the idea of two writing "journals': one for school that is more teacher directed and a second that is personal.


If math classes can watch Numbers
as curriculum, why not
CSI:NY for English?

In-class journaling is among the most enjoyable activities I have my students work on year long, for both of us. A subtle distinction is to be made between the two (in-class and in-pocket) writing journals. Different than a personal journal, or traditional diary, in-class writer's notebooks allow students to explore potential writing ideas at their own pace with the guidance of their teacher.

In all of my grade 11 (and in years past, 9, 10 and 12) English classes, students are asked to bring a Composition Book on the second day of school for safe keeping in our classroom. I recycle those left behind by prior students (after removing the completed original owner's entries) or purchase new ones for those who don't have access to supplies outside of school. Every few classes, students are provided with a prompt to get their writing juices flowing. While these entries are evaluated with points and feedback, the evaluation is not for content in as much as for quantity of information put forth and the quality of details provided (or whatever is is loosely prescribed by the prompt). Grammar, punctuation, consistent verb tenses are not important, I am looking for thinking.

I warned you that it was
bad imagery.

Personally, I am a proponent of the personal diary (or to confuse matters more, "personal journal") for my own purposes. While I, too, respond to the same prompts my students do as a means of modeling, I also almost always have a small spiral bound notebook with me (preferably in my shirt pocket). There, I keep notes as I fumble through my days. Some of what I scribble is related to work activities that I need to follow through on, items I need to pick up on the way home, books/artists/authors/websites that are mentioned to me in passing that I would like to learn more about, and even recipes that may be fun to make at home. Mixed in is the occasional story idea, image that has struck me, or haiku jottings.

The key for me here is that while these may seem like a disjointed collection of notes, ramblings or badly conceived poetry drafts, ultimately they may (just may) serve as fodder for some later project or piece I am moved to draft for my own pleasure. More often they just become part of a collection of notebooks that I'll thumb through for inspiration when none is to be found elsewhere.

But, for now anyway, they wait quietly on my shelf awaiting future mining...

Building a Running/Jumping/Throwing Reader

Despite having coached middle and high school sports for nearly ten years, or 20+ seasons, prior to each season I still habitually purchase a variety of texts related to the sport. While some are drill-based manuals, others are fiction and nonfiction narratives set in the world of track and field. Among running readers, or reading runners, there are some clear classics such as Born to Run by Christopher McDougall, Once a Runner by John L. Parker, Jr., or even Running with Buffaloes by Chris Lear. The overwhelming majority of these are bout distance running or endurance racing. There are also some obvious sport-based magazines that include relevant human-interest or historical essays, for example Runner's World, and others, like Outside, that regularly feature well-written pieces that touch on aspects of what could be called "the track and field lifestyle."

In my primary professional role as a high school English Language Arts teacher, I relish the days when I come across books, chapters, articles or paragraphs that I sense might resonate with the student-athletes I coach--often because they do so with me. Getting high school student-athletes to actually read and reflect on such selections is not easy as not all athletes, or high-schoolers for that matter, are readers-for-pleasure. Just as in English class, motivating students to engage text is frequently a matter of trying to fit a square peg into a triangular hole. At the beginning, I did what my coaching-mentor modeled for me: attach 1-3 page articles with titles such as "You Are What You Think You Are" to weekly team updates of information and training tips. After doing so, he and I might refer to the concepts or ideas with individual students-athletes as the teachable moment presented itself. Most times there would be minimal practical impact on the team dynamic as a whole since the articles and the messages inherent in each would be lost to the sands of time.

BEWARE: Typos above!

Last week, in the two days of practice leading up to our school's ten day Spring Break, I tried something more ambitious. I assigned "homework" for the members of the Girls Track and Field team. Yes, homework that did not include self-directed fartleks or core workouts (though those would be great, too). In addition to "enjoying family time," I wanted them to read. For this reading, I selected a personally annotated 10 page chapter entitled "Probing Commitment" from the tremendous book Dirty Inspirations: Lessons from the Trenches of Extreme Endurance Sports by Terri Schneider. I first read Dirty Inspirations nearly two years ago and have waited for the right opportunity to try to use it with a team. With a relatively new squad of girls, and a solid group of returning trackletes, this year seemed the right time to go for it. With a few days prior to break, I assured that everyone on the roster had a copy and articulated the task on the weekly update posted above.

Teaching experience reminds me that simply assigning and hoping text will be read because "it is the right thing to do" is likely to lead to only the few most dedicated girls actually doing so. During our last pre-break team meeting, I let them know there would also be a test of the concepts such as "leaving your ego at the starting line gives your team its best shot" (page 61) at our next full practice upon returning from break. I also reiterated verbally that which I had written in the assignment: "If you ARE part of the TEAM and the coach asks you to READ a selection, how do YOU demonstrate your commitment?" I am confident that this current collection of jumpers, throwers and runners are up to the task of reading and learning, and ultimately acting on something new...

Inspired by Students... to Organize!

Blackbeard the cat taking a quick look at titles of zero interest to him. (11/11/17)

During class a few weeks ago, while talking with my students prior to teaching, in a segment I call "Housekeeping" on the agenda, our conversation turned to books. As this is an English Language and Composition class, I was happy, and pleasantly surprised to learn, that a number of my charges enjoy reading so much that they, like I, collect books. As one student so succinctly put it, "I like to own the books I read." I can relate.

My childhood book shelf, now

in my son's old bedroom. (11/11/17)

Over that past 35 or so years, I have purchased and been given numerous titles, and though I have occasionally purged by shelves of those without emotional connection or with little likelihood of being shared or re-read, books cover much of the space I am afforded at home. This more a source of embarrassment than pride as 1) I rarely have people over to marvel at the spines and 2) I recognize the inherent wastefulness of hording books where no one can read them but me (or my largely disinterested family). During what became a wide-ranging discussion of reading for fun, I introduced my class to the Little Library phenomenon that has long take root in my urban community and off late had begun popping up in our suburban school district (most notable with an elementary school sponsoring one just outside its entrance).

While my wife has often suggested I donate the books to the public library or some other organization like the Salvation Army, I balk at that as I know the fate awaiting them: sitting on a 50 cent shelve until eventually being discarded like so many old shoes. I can't do that to my friends, even if our relationship has grown frosty over the years... On an old cell phone somewhere are images of sadly discarded books from my school library, secretly hidden in black plastic garbage bags awaiting a trip to the dumpster after hours. That fate just doesn't seem right.

So, with my cross-country season having drawn to a close and a desire not to spend every last free, moment gaming or grading, my students have inspired me to organize my collection. The ultimate hope being that I will find away to meaningfully disseminate them to interested readers, or at the very least purge the shelves of unwanted hangers-on...

One shelf in gaming room (daughter's old bedroom). (11/11/17)

One of four shelves in the attic; my default Sanctum Sanctorum. (11/11/17)

Second attic bookshelf. (11/11/17)

Also in my daughter's old bedroom. (11/11/17)

Summer Reading: Assessment 3.0

Each summer I intentionally mix a little professional reading into my bedside book pile. In many instances, the titles I choose for this purpose are read with the thought of using them to enhance the  range of content for the courses I teach. More and more frequently, however, books are chosen in an effort to improve my teaching craft. Late this spring, a coaching/teaching peer of mine from a neighboring district began chronicling his move toward a "grade-less classroom" on his personal blog.

In an effort to reach out to like-minded educators, he also invited others to dialogue about their own efforts on Twitter. Though I have often thought (and read a little about) the use of anecdotal evidence and conferencing in place of traditional numbers as a means of assessing and motivating student learning, the excuses I could (and continue to) tell myself far superseded my will. I also was unclear as to what primary text could best articulate a practical approach.

Assessment 3.0 by Mark Barnes was the book he suggested I start with.

As the subtitle Throw Out Your Grade Book and Inspire Learning suggests, this is a book of interest primarily to educators. I read this as a means of personal professional development over the summer at the suggestion of a colleague. Short (124 pages including appendices), Barnes’ book is written in very accessible language for teachers of all experience levels. The author uses examples from a variety of educational levels as a means of validating his assertion that using his model of assessment (SE2R) will lead to more independently motivated learners.

The approach employed by Barnes in delivering instruction and feedback can be distilled down to "four simple words," which when combined result in the aforementioned acronym SE2R: Summarize, Explain, Redirect, Resubmit. Assessment 3.0 guides the reader though numerous situations across multiple disciplines and grade levels using this technique to promote the creation of an ongoing, objective conversation about learning. The final result, if properly facilitated, is mastery learning on the part of the student.

As a widely read piece of educational literature, there are quite a few excellent summaries and thoughtful analysis on the validity of Assessment 3.0, much of it written by teachers implementing it. Though I am currently just researching and evaluating the potential, I did have two thoughts:

• The greatest challenge to change is time, and Barnes addresses that concern head on, by acknowledging and asserting that "Yes, You Have Time For Feedback" (64), and furthermore, offering some suggestions as to how to meed the added expectation of responding in "more than simply written descriptors of work." (61) The central point of his concept is that the work, whether by student or teacher, should be meaningful and that this targeted conversation is a way to make it so.
• While a well-intentioned (if traditional) educator, I continue to operate under a number of the misconceptions (preconceptions?) regarding effective student assessment and learning that Barnes' work seek to counteract. This doesn't make me "bad," or even ineffective, but it does shed light on the truth that there are areas for improvement. Throughout Assessment 3.0, Barnes cautions against an all-or-nothing mindset, suggesting the practical, intellectual and cultural transition necessary for the shift to an SE2R-centric approach. I am excited to follow the implementation of my colleague at another school district, but the extensive leg work and culture building with administration and colleagues he has taken on prior to doing so reminds me that I am still only cherry-picking.

Ultimately, good books, like good teaching, provoke more questions (the result being the dialogue key) than answers. As an introduction to grade-less (number-less) teaching Assessment 3.0 makes a compelling argument for more research on the subject by interested educators such as your's truly.

Processing My Process: Grades & Goals?

Like most teachers, I am a collector and recycler of ideas. Many of these remain locked up in a memory vault or notebook, while others coalesce around a singular purpose awaiting their moment to enter my practice. Over the past three weeks I have been returning to two ideas that, while not outside my realm of awareness, have by virtue of recently appearing on my Twitter feed prompted me to risk: grading student work without awarding a traditional grade and student goal setting. In the way our work has come together, I am going to use one (ungraded student work) to prompt another (student goal setting). While neither is revolutionary, I am hoping to have my feedback of their work have implications that reach beyond a returned paper set aside in a "portfolio" (translation: manila folder in a hanging folder in a cabinet to be "reflected upon" using a standardized template) or dispensed with disgust at an unfriendly number.

At this juncture (halfway through the school year), I really need for students to take to heart the feedback I have (repeatedly) shared with them, both individually and holistically as a grade level. Just as I am extremely confident I am not sharing anything new with them ("reduce clutter by revising out unnecessary clauses"), I am equally sure that many have ignored the advice from quality educators for the past 11 years of their schooling. I also know that our district (like many) has been sending professionals to training on subjects such as  SMART Goals and growth mindset, other than a passing nod to each in a department meeting, not much practical turn key training has been given. It may be that it has, but I, like the student who needs to be retaught what a metaphor is each year, the ideas have not been presented in a way that has clicked with me. This would likely be a fairer assessment of the situation as others (as you'll read) in my district, if not building, have.

I have toyed with these ideas in class over the past 15 years with varying degrees of depth and success. Like many of the strategies I have refined with my classes, I continue to try and find ways to make their use meaningful enough that they become valued by the students and thereby gain a sort of power and credibility. Articles by Carol Dweck and graphic organizers about SMART goals, to this point, have promoted interesting discussion (and have returned to them in college at which point they express gratitude for having been given them in high school) but have served primarily as "one-offs" that have little real resonance for either teacher or student.

A few weeks ago I came across a tweet (pictured above, left) by another teacher in the same school district as I, regarding her efforts with goals setting with students. Following an exchange of e-mails, she shared some resources with me including a short explanatory video she sued with her classes. At that time, my students had just taken a multiple choice mid-term and I had been looking for a way to have them process the results. It occurred to me that they might benefit from developing some SMART goals around heir own skill deficits as a means of drawing some conclusion as to1) what they are and 2) how to address them. Like "the best laid plans of mice and men," dates and ideas did not line up well enough to follow thru, but I had made some preliminary copies and began to consider a discussion of growth mindset as a precursor activity. Not quite ready to go, I set aside the materials for another day.

In two of my classes, prior to our five-day Present's Week Recess, students submitted analysis essays based upon individual chapters of Marjane Satrapi's graphic novel, Persepolis: Book 1. My intention when assigning the task (as students were informed of on the assignment) was to follow my normal grading process: read twice, comment and use a generic Advanced Placement writing rubric to provide feedback. I might even invite them to develop some personal writing goals after first providing them the vocabulary with which to do so (see, I still had those copies on my desk which I really wanted to use). The latter part had yet to have actually taken place, but the thought was there.

After a quick review of some of the papers, I came to a familiar conclusion: some of the same mistakes were being made, and not just by those students who had (based on prior experience) written the hit "print" on the library computer five minutes before class. If I followed my past practice, in all likelihood, other than prompting some haggling for points, my x/y grade (x = 9-1 on 9-point rubric, y = 100-65%) would have the same amount of minimal impact. It was then I came across Mike's tweet (above right) and I began thinking of trying something different. What if I read twice, commented with some suggestions for improvement and did NOT give a grade?

As of this writing, after 6+ hours on a train ride to New York City and a third of the way back, I am about 2/3 of the way through the papers. While many of the comments are similar, I am also attempting to personalize them further, a process that takes a considerable amount of time. Too much time to do this in such great detail, very frequently. But... what if we use this as an opportunity to establish some baselines about our writing and with this baseline, and some guided reflection, each developed a SMART Goals for improvement?

With the kernel of an idea of a plan of action, as well a sense of purpose, I find it's time to review some of my notes, finish the papers, and remember where those copies were for class tomorrow... and risk again.

Summer Reading: Dirty Inspirations

Using a popular structural approach, the tone and message
of each chapter is established with a quote.

In my roles as both a weekend warrior and high school coach, I am always on the lookout for books that can provide motivation to the athlete-in-me, as well as break down challenging sports-psychology concepts for those interested student-athletes with whom I work. Dirty Inspirations: Lessons From the Trenches of Extreme Endurance Sports by Terri Schneider is that rare collection of essays that is capable of doing both. A champion endurance athlete turned sports psychologist, Schneider draws on her broad array of competitive experiences (ranging from Ironman tri-athlete to Eco-Challenge team member).

A world-class athlete, Schneider has personal experience battling the mental demons that come with endurance sports. Endurance sports, as defined by the Farlax Free Dictionary, are activities performed primarily by an individual "in which key muscles are exercised at submaximal intensity for prolonged periods of time," and within this competitive arena, the author finds multiple anecdotes illustrating a practical psychological approach.

What Schneider's anecdotes and experiences do so effectively is to add meaningful meat to the bones of  tired coaching code such as "Hang in here" and "You can do this if you try." Anyone who has engaged in athletics at any level (from recreational to professional) have heard ad nauseum, further reinforcing the reality that for many coaches (myself included), the real sports psychology employed is limited to motivational phrases. In the spirit of "physician, heal thyself," Schneider shows how her own application of these theories has resulted in both personal competitive successes and failures.

The text is broken into sixteen easily digestible chapters, each illustrating a different psychological training principle through the lens of the author's personal experience. This stricture allows time for the reader to intellectually breathe and reflect upon the insights offered in each chapter. While chapter titles such as "Afraid of Fear" and "Painting Your Authentic Self" have  whiff of self-help pop psychology, given the practical experiences behind each principle, Schneider avoids the potential pitfall of celebrity how-to book. In addition to being an exceptional endurance athlete, Schneider is also an academic who has pursued education in sport psychology. Interestingly, the author often refers to her motivations for pursuing such training as events in her competitive life give rise to the possible need for it. If anything, it is her academic writer's voice that puts this text in the realm of psychology and training literature rather than purely adventure biography. This is not to suggest the words lack passion, but to remind that this really is, I believe, intended to introduce valuable ideas within the exciting context of adventure racing. It is one thing to run a 10k or half-marathon and describe what it is like to work through discomfort, and another thing entirely to address the subject having successfully completed a 100 mile foot race.

Author Terri Schneider.

Two chapters I found of especially meaningfully, given my own current state of affairs were "Probing Commitment" (pages 58-68) and "Finding Comfort in Discomfort" (pages 138-155). Next week, I will be embarking on my sixth (!) season as a high school Varsity Cross-Country coach, in all likelihood with a team comprised of young women with little prior experience at running the 5k distance competitively. Additionally, I very recently participated in a 20k that frankly did not go as planned, and during whcih I sustained an injury, that had me questioning whether to continue or not. In both instances, "professional" and personal, the necessity of commitment, to the individual as well as to those who rely upon them, is significant. Both chapters spoke specifically to questions I had around internal motivation and the necessity of powerful self-talk in persevering.

Dirty Inspirations: Lessons From the Trenches of Extreme Endurance Sports by Terri Schneider is worthy reading for both the competitor and coach. Unlike similar books which speak to sports psychology in a specific athletic endeavor (basketball coaching books for basketball coaches for example), the anecdotes and information in Schneider's text are readily transferable to any sport, especially as the athletic feats of the author imbue her words with instant credibility. I look forward to sharing parts of this text implicitly through some decisions I make this seasons and explicitly by sharing an excerpt (or two) with the team.

The Power of Re-visiting Text

Wild Strawberries (1957) is not nearly as "artsy-fartsy" or maudlin as this trailer makes it look... honest!

Each school year, despite the best efforts of our department leadership to clearly inform teachers which novels are assigned to be taught at which of the four grade levels (9 thru 12), invariably teachers will high-jack a text for use a different grade level. Whether out of a passion for a particular title or because they don't feel the obligation to research materials for a novel they have not previously worked with, this is an annual conscious choice on the part of some that results in a completely avoidable bone of contention. While this does create problems (beyond the need to find alternative resources, let's face it, the thematic content of some texts really is more accessible and meaningful to older more experienced students), there is also an opportunity created through this lack of etiquette: the potential for revealing for students the power of a re-visiting a text.

A favorite title from my
youth I look forward to
revisiting this summer.

This idea is even more relatable when considered in the context of movies, a fact I was once again reminded of while re-watching one yesterday. The opportunity to re-visit a text (whether traditional hard copy or film presentation) creates a situation that illustrates the difference between simply reading a book and really READING a book. As teachers and adults, we can appreciate finding new information each time we read a story or novel, or after re-watching a movie. High school students, however, often view the reading expedience as a chore which, once completed, is finished with little necessity to revisit it beyond identifying cited textual evidence for responding to an essay prompt.

VHS box for Federico
Fellini's La Strada (1954).

While an undergraduate English major wa-a-ay back in 1988, I took a film study course entitled "Fellini and Bergman." As a product of an urban Western New York public school system, I had zero familiarity with the idea of watching foreign movies other than those produced by Toho Studios and (badly) re-dubbed in English. A large part of the course requirement consisted of independently watching films outside of class. This task required going to the bowels of the campus library and viewing videotapes at a desk with large headphones on. It was there that I also gained a level of comfort reading subtitles--an underappreciated skill I continue to develop to this day. While at my local public library yesterday, I came across a DVD copy of one of the films I had seen in the library basement, Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries (1954), a film I had last seen 26 years ago.

After finishing the movie this second time, many years later, the difference in the experience was clear. Eighteen year-old me dutifully viewed Bergman's meditation on aging and acceptance, coming to some basic conclusions based in great part on my professor's book explaining the movie's themes, structure and story. Yesterday, 47 year-old me experienced with greater depth (and a stronger personal connection) the philosophical themes such as the value of introspection and the transient nature of human existence. I am also fairly certain that 65 year-old me (fingers-crossed!) will draw even more from a future viewing experience.

Stories, poetry and novels are no different; all benefit from the occasional re-visit, especially after time and experience have filled in some cognitive and emotional gaps. A part of me looks forward to the realization that this year's new crop of budding scholars have somehow been fed a novel that I had intended to teach. Rather than cursing the previous ill-advised professional, I will take advantage of the opportunity and challenge of demonstrating the power of revisiting text. Beyond the additional structural and thematic low-hanging fruit ready to be dropped, I am confident a great connection between the student (reader) and content can be facilitated... and the real magic of literature validated!

Summer Reading: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

A colleague of mine has long praised Ken Kesey's classic novel One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest as one that her student's annually count as their favorite read of the school year. It has been many years since I have sat down with the book, so I began my personal summer reading early this year, digging out a copy just prior to the end of the school year. Immediately engaged, it took me only three days to devour the adventures of "Chief" Bromden and Randle Patrick McMurphy. The now familiar story set in an Oregon psychiatric ward, pits the inmates (some of whom are there voluntarily) and others, like Randle, who are committed due to criminal activity, against uber-authoritarian Nurse Ratched.

As I read, my teacher-brain saw numerous thematic similarities with other novels traditionally taught in eleventh grade, most obviously The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne and The Catcher In the Rye by J.D. Salinger. The overt rebellious nature of the three protagonists, Hester Prynne, Holden Caufield and Randle Patrick McMurphy, would appear to make Cuckoo's Nest an accessible companion read, though given limited instructional time, I am unsure what text I woudl be willing to drop in favor of it. There are some elements that are clearly appealing to high school readers (though given this novel's cultural influence run the risk of seeming overdone), such as the anti-authoritarian stance of the inmates, as punctuated by the liberal use of expletives and their engagement in, and discussion of, "adult activities."

One of the more interesting elements of Cuckoo's Nest, and one not necessarily shared with the other two books, was Chief's numerous references to a "machine" that manipulates and coerces individuals to respond to the world in a defined way. (While the cultural confines faced by teh main characetrs in Catcher and Letter are key to each novel, neither characterizes this facet of tehir story as a conscious "actor" like Cuckoo's Nest does.) This approach successfully establishes two antagonists, one very figurative and dubbed "The Combine" by Chief, and the other the very literal agent of the Combine, the aforementioned Nurse Ratched, more commonly referred to by Chief as "Big Nurse". Big Nurse's powers, and by extension the coercive reach of the Combine, extend so far as to "turn[ing] up the speed [of time]... this way on days when you... got somebody to visit you." (77) The pervasive "fog machine" also serves to oppress the inmates and obfuscate the truth from everyone but Chief. Chapter 7 (the section's are not numbered but I annotated them numerically in my copy for ease of review) in particular might offer a suitable challenge for student readers given its emphasis on an unmedicated Chief's responses to the environmental stimuli of the psychiatric ward and observations of the machines at work.

This "machine" aspect of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest could be massaged so as to dovetail nicely into a discussion of how one might assert control over others, especially as used by a relatable modern incarnation of the Combine, the media. Givent hisd line of thinking, it also occurred to em that this migth offer a good transition to working with excerpts from a non-fiction graphic novel I read two summers ago. The history of the use of rhetoric by the powerful (authority) was very well laid out in The Influencing Machine by Brooke Gladstone and Josh Neufeld. The more I noodle it through, the more useful Cuckoo's Nest, or maybe select excerpts when considered through a lens of a few key -isms, might be...

In addition to being a flat-out entertaining read, Kesey's Cuckoo's Nest also provided this teacher with a most valuable intellectual nutrient: food for thought.

Run Reader: Toil and Trouble (2015)

The influence of the Fates is foreshadowed early in Toil and Trouble, 
written by Mairghread Scott featuring art by Kelly and Nichole Mathhews.

Cover to Toil and Trouble #1
by Kyla Vanderklugt

Despite being properly schooled in the works of William Shakespeare as an undergraduate at SUNY Brockport, as an educator, I am a little late-to-the-party with a passion for the Bard. While I have dutifully worked with required grade-level plays, it is only the last few years that I have grown convinced of its potential for opening intellectual doors for my lower-level readers. A re-read of The Tragedy of Macbeth, and some accompanying literary analysis was the initiating factor in this growth two summers ago. Much like one sees a certain make of car everywhere once they become familiar with it, it would seem as though Macbeth seems to be popping up more frequently, or at least my level of awareness has been raised. While comic book storylines have always reflected classic literary tropes, recently I re-read a recent miniseries that, more than just reflecting Shakespeare's plot points, made an effort to embellish them.

Yes, there are boiling
cauldrons, as seen here in
issue #2.

Based on important, though underdeveloped, characters created by William Shakespeare, Toil and Trouble fleshes out a potential backstory for the Weird Sisters, or witches, who put into motion, via prophesy and apparition, the events depicted in The Tragedy of Macbeth. Set in and around the familiar story points of the source, this six-issue mini-series from Boom! Studios/Archaia, in the spirit of Tom Stoppard's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, presents a slightly different take on the events of the play. Smartly re-purposed more fully as "Fates," rather than witches, by writer Mairghread Scott, the three fates, now named Riata, Cait, and Smertae, are presented as having always guided and protected Scotland unseen, indirectly controlling the line of kings according to the old religion. Macbeth's role is shifted to being that of a pawn (albeit a beloved one by protagonist Smertae) in a much more ancient conflict between the Fates.

In the interest of creating a circumstance during which the spoiled future king Malcolm can strengthen his military credentials, the sisters hatch a scheme led by alpha-Fate Riata, to place Malcolm in a battle that allows this growth. A key aspect of this plan, however, requires that brave Macbeth be cut down in his prime. Though recently returned from exile because of her own past indiscretions at the story's start, Smertae deviates from the plan when it is revealed that she has followed Macbeth since his birth and disagrees with the scheme as laid out. That is the initiating action that set's in motion the events of Toil and Trouble. These narrative nuances periodically dovetail into the more familiar plot, though by the series' final issue, titled "Act 6," an alternate conclusion of sorts reaches fruitiotn that ameliorates the tragic element of the The Tragedy of Macbeth.

While Lady Macbeth is once
again "unsexed" this time she
has a push from Fate in Issue #3. 

Though most readers already know how the story is supposed to end (SPOILER ALERT: it's Macbeth's tragedy, so take a guess), like many works of literature, it is the journey bridging the new with the familiar that creates the tension through all six issues. Because Scott develops Macbeth here as an even more honorable and brave soldier, and therefore a more sympathetic character, his pre-ordained fall in Shakespeare's play is even more tragic... and it is the expectation of that fall on the part of the reader with which Scott plays in revealing a different resolution to the story.

The deceptive actions of key characters throughout the story, most notable Lady Macbeth, is now attributed to the Fates possessing or taking on their appearance at key moments, thereby more actively guiding the chess pieces toward their ultimate station: first placing Macbeth on the throne and then correcting their error by setting up Malcolm as the successor. As the story unfolds there are significantly more allusions to the Scottish setting of the story, especially in developing the "old ways", as represented by the Fates, and their slow recession out of the culture.

The visuals, by Kelly and Nichole Mathhews, includes nods to our characters' Scottish background, and utilizes an appropriately earthy color palette. The figure-work and structure of pages is laid out in a clean style, suggesting an appreciation for mango on the part of the artists. The characters are especially expressive, suggesting an animated storyboard, but not so much that it negates the necessary tone of the books. Fortunately, the words and pictures mesh in a very complimentary fashion that evokes medieval Scotland in a way that is accessibility to modern comic book sensibilities. Of course, as one would expect, the comic book medium allows for more fantastic visuals than could have even been imagined in 1606 England, when Macbeth was written. Were this a movie, the "special effects" quotient would be significantly higher, which is why this medium is so wonderful at visualizing that would be cost prohibitive to produce in another.

In my own collecting of comics, I am much less married to the characters and continuity of the Big Two, so Toil and Trouble fit extremely well in my budget and, more importantly, my desire for well-crafted reading with a literary bent. (Let's face it, Marvel's Deadpool Killustrated from 2013 will only carry you so far.)  It also strikes as making a solid addition to a school library (it is available as a trade paperback). Valuable as both an secondary read, accompanying The Tragedy Macbeth, as well as providing hard evidence for suspicious minds of the vibrancy of Shakespeare's cultural relevance.

Accepting The Call For the First Time (Again)

The Call of the Wild begins with an unattributed epigraph:
the first stanza of "Atavism," a 1902 poem by John Myers O'Hara.

Two weeks ago, in anticipation of our impending seven-day break from classes, I asked my Advanced Placement students if any of them had a favorite book that they enjoyed re-reading for fun. The few that did, mentioned the titles that one might expect from normal eleventh graders: titles from any number of popular young adult franchises such as Harry Potter, Percy Jackson and the like. It was then that I hinted at the possibility of my asking them to read (or in some case re-read) a short novel that I enjoyed revisiting during break that they too may have become familiar with from middle school, The Call of the Wild by Jack London.

Though I teach high school English, and the reality that The Call of the Wild is firmly ensconced as a middle school title in our (like most) school districts, it became apparent a few years ago that, for whatever reason, London's classic was no longer being taught. As a result, most students had no awareness of Jack London beyond, maybe, having been assigned (and consequently dreading the experience of) reading "To Build a Fire".

As was expected, many students balked at the idea of being assigned a book to read during this time (and more than one colleague suggested to me "it is break after all"), I reminded my charges that had I any faith that they might read anything during our time apart, I might feel differently. An ulterior motive I had for assigning this particular book was the hope that some had indeed read it in middle school, and could therefor come to the realization upon re-reading it that books returned to at different points in one's experience can reveal new layers of understanding that their younger selves may have missed. (I knew some had been assigned it in the past by virtue of their names having been scrawled in the covers by their younger selves), of those few who had, none remembered it.

The task required of students' while reading was non-threatening as it mirrored one they had recently completed: as each read, she or he would annotate using either post-it notes (in the school's book) or in-text notations identifying and explaining specific literary strategies employed by London in telling Buck's story. The course was, after all, Language and Composition so our shared emphasis would be on writer's craft. For my part, I would also be re-reading the text, albeit for the upteenth time, and share select pages of annotation with the via my Twitter feed and our class blog throughout the course of our break. (Full disclosure: I could not resist the urge to begin (again) so actually began reading and annotating prior to the start of break.)

As some of my students reluctantly accept "the call" for the first time, and others willingly embrace Buck's tale for a second, I look forward to sharing together with them after break our thoughts on the journey (and process)...

The Running Wheel Turns Again

In most matters, I am what can best be described as a "planner." For my work (teaching) it is a fine attribute, especially as I am willing to quickly deviate from a lesson plan if the situation (or class) necessitates it. While a willingness to map out goals, whether personal or educational, appears to be a mostly positive trait, the most significant drawback can be that on occasion I spend too much time planning and not enough time acting: it allows me the out that "I am working on it." Such has been my on-again-off-again love affair with recreational running.

Past best laid plans.

In September, my previous plan culminated in my successfully completing a half marathon, a race that was perfectly scheduled for my purposes as the taper came during the start of the school year and the recovery afterwards was positioned during a period of intense coaching and teaching. But now, weeks later, I find myself saying at the the end each work week, "This weekend I begin a new plan," even going so far as to jot down a course for the following morning.

This morning, after waking up early at the dawn of the second-to-last meet of the high school girls' cross-country meet of the season, I acted. The past three years it has become increasingly difficult to get outside on the streets in "the cold."  Years ago I loved running in the hard pact snow at 5 a.m., an experience which, of late and in much kinder conditions, held little allure. Today was a cool, damp, autumnal one and it was glorious. Inspired (deluded?) by the short, easy three miles I put in, I decided to blog about it here (thus inspiring accountability) and begin to put in action another plan for a future race. In a little over two months I will be running another local half marathon with other more lofty goals crystallizing in the ether beyond January. For now, it has to be first things first.

At least that is the plan.

A Muster of Faux Classroom Crows

More than just someone to watch over our accolades and team pictures.  (10/11/13)

Over the past five(!) years, I have purchased an artificial crow/raven to adorn my classroom each year. (Yes, crows and raven are NOT the same, but as birds, the two possess enough superficial similarities that I use the names synonymously--fortunately I am not an ornithology teacher.) At the conclusion of each school year, I remove them from the shelves, screens and unused, ancient tech around the room until the following August at which time they will each return to (slightly) different locations.

The crow chick perched on the 

deer skull is a recent addition. When 

it's previous perch, this was taken, 

the mounted television was removed, 

the small crow moved around before 

settling there. (9/1/15)

The first faux crow found it's way into our classroom in the same way most English literature teachers acquire them, as a prop for an October reading of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven." In each successive year, however,  I have continued to acquire a new one during the Halloween decoration sales at local party supply stores. Nowadays, Halloween decorations are on sale in mid-August (along with Thanksgiving things!), hence this year's pre-school-purchase.

A morbid, and astute, reader may presuppose that the presence of a murder (or muster) suggests something "bad" is going to happen in this room. Though in Medieval time ravens would tend to congregate on the battlefield to feast on the corpses of the fallen, that depressing intention is not what's behind this style choice--at least not intentionally. Each new school year the presence of the artificial ravens in the classroom elicits a now familiar question from new students: "What's with all the birds/crows/ravens?"

As ours is an English classroom, I like to have some literature-based responses to the question of "why", ranging from the familiar to the esoteric (with secret hopes that during the course of our time together, the unusual will become more familiar). Just a few responses with a literary bent that I may offer during varying points int eh school year include:

As fate would have it, this freebie
poster was received in my school
mail today! (9/1/15)

• "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe: Most students are at least vaguely familiar with the poem if for no other reason than it's pop culture references in many a comedic television aside. For some, even those who've "read" it, the symbolism of the raven is often not so clear. Given the poem's close association with Halloween, they do understand it to be somehow dark or evil. Morbid, right?
• Did you know that good ol' Willy Shakes refers to the raven more often than to any other bird? In a number of William Shakespeare's works such as Othello and Macbeth (a play we will work with during the school year), the black bird makes an appearance. For example in Lady Macbeth's speech in Act I Scene V of Macbeth: "The Raven himself is hoarse/That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan/Under my battlements...".
• With any luck, we will be reading some excerpts from Keith Baines' translation of Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur this year, whcih allows for this connection: in Celtic mythology, ravens are often associated with warfare and the battleground (especially in Irish mythology). In Welsh mythology, ravens figure as the army of King Arthur's knight Owain. King Arthur's messianic return is an aspect of the legend of King Arthur, the mythical 6th-century British king. One recurrent aspect of Arthurian literature was the notion that he would one day return in the role of a messiah to save his people. Other less common concepts include the idea that Arthur was absent leading the Wild Hunt, or that he had been turned into a crow or raven.



Someone has to use the
ancient overhead--why not a
Raven? (10/11/13)

• A Feast for Crows by George R. R. Martin is the fourth of seven planned novels in the epic fantasy "A Song of Ice and Fire" series of novels. The words "crow" and "raven" play multiple roles throughout the series. The most obvious for those who have never read the books or seen the HBO show is the historical one suggested above: A Feast for Crows clearly suggests (though no surprise to fans) that this book will have a hefty headcount of dead to be eaten.  Also, in the Fire and Ice mythology, a "Crow" is the name given to those men who serve on the Wall, the immense ice structure which separates the northern border of the Seven Kingdoms from the lands beyond. Men of the Watch dress entirely in black, giving rise to the nickname "crows"--which is what the Free Folk commonly call them. Finally, characters uses ravens as messenger birds throughout the series. Additionally, the Three-eyed raven appears in Bran Stark's dreams to guide him on a quest. Interesting side note, I had not previously realized: The first name "Bram" is derived from a convergence of two separate etymological sources, one being an abbreviation of "Abraham", but the other being the Gaelic word "bran", meaning "raven". That Martin guy is clever!
• In the past my students and I have read and analyzed J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit (1937), a novel chock full of inetersting tidbits about archettypes and etymology. This was also news to me, but really cool: Roäc is the leader of the Ravens of the Lonely Mountain. Roäc was the son of Carc, and as such "a descendant of those [ravens] that had remained on the hill even after Smaug had driven out their old allies, the Dwarves". Roäc is likely an onomatopoeic name. (Source: Tolkien Gateway)

Like good literature, I like to allow for a number of possible interpretations. For this particular artificial classroom muster, I choose to leave just "what" they mean, ambiguous, though surely those students who fail to put forth energy and effort will see them as circling their the fading life of their individual grades, and others will see them as delivers of a message of growth and learning that will allow them to reach new heights.

A panoramic view of a classroom surrounded by faux crows circa October 2013.

Ghosts of FCBD Past: Raising a Reader! (2014)

"Not only are comics fun, they're an incredible tool for helping to create a  genuine love of reading."~Jennifer L. Holm

I've posted previously about the positive impact my own lifelong appreciation of comic books has had on me from instilling an understanding of the value of a good vocabulary (as a child) as well as reinforcing the application and analysis of literary strategies (as a high school English student and, later, teacher).

Last May, on the annual celebration at my local comic shop that is Free Comic Book Day, one of the four books I selected from the table of offerings was a Comic Book Legal Defense Fund publication entitled Raising a Reader: How Comics and Graphic Novels Can Help Your Kids Love to Read! by Meryl Jaffe, Phd. While I can attest to the personal positive impact of comic book reading, I am often on the lookout for publications or online articles that corroborate what I already think: comic books can engage non-readers in a way that few other things can. Despite my own extensive personal experience with the medium, Raising a Reader did present some excellent suggestions for helping those unfamiliar with how to read a comic book as well as offering some very well articulated affirmation of the medium's larger potential as a gateway to reading. As suggested in the introduction by Jennifer L. Holm, also quoted above, "from verbal and visual literacy to critical thinking and memory, comics are a great tool to give young readers a head start."

Though I love buying and reading comics weekly (New Comic Book Wednesday makes the dreaded "hump day" a favorite day of the week), my wife has always insisted that comics were "too busy" for her to follow. After reading Raising a Reader, it occurs to me that her feeling may be largely due to her never having learned how to read them properly (a skill by now she has little willingness to cultivate). I have been reading and collecting comic books for so long that I instinctually understand how to walk through the narrative, focusing on panels in sequential order whereas she simply sees the singular page made of multiple colorful panels.

As an educator, especially of English Language Arts, I am often inundated with edu-speak around college-and-career readiness in the context of the not-so-new-anymore Common Core curriculum. I love the page below as it addresses in a very logical, and well-stated, manner the potential positive impact of the comic book /graphic novel genre on the development of valuable communication skills in readers. Though I am the first to call "b.s." on those who validate the regular showing of television shows such as CSI in science classes and Numbers in math course, movies frequently in high school classes, I find the assertion (and the analysis provided) that "graphic novels foster and strengthen  multiple learning skills" to be credible and spot on... I only wish I'd thought of it sooner!

Raising a Reader! also reminds that comic books and graphic novels not only engage readers, but have some valuable lesson for writers as well. The severely uniformed may suggest that the medium is less thought out in its construction than say novels or poetry. Quiet the contrary, as we are reminded that "[graphic novel] creators are thoughtful when designing their pages and panel arrangements, carefully guiding their readers' eyes and attention." This level of intention that is important to carefully constructing any communique is an important element of developing skill as a writer that is too often taken for granted or, in an age of templates and stems, even less clearly taught as a skill unto itself.

As the page below suggests, and given the publisher, in addition to promoting how to raise one's child to love reading through the enjoyment of graphic novels and comic books, Raising a Reader also informs regarding the dangers of ignoring assaults on the First Amendment.

The Comic Book Legal Defense Fund exists primarily as "a non-profit organization dedicated to the protection of the First Amendment rights of the comics art form and its community of retailers, creators, publishers, librarians, and readers." In this capability, the CBLDF provides "legal referrals, representation, advice, assistance, and education in furtherance of these goals."

Many of the larger comic book publishers will use Free Comic Book Day to tease upcoming mega-events, but the CBLDF offering from last May is worthy of re-issuing each year. When it comes to issues of the power of the medium and the subtle intent by some to subvert free speech, there is no better primer. At my local comic shop, in addition to each years new FCBD offerings, extra copies from years' past are also available for $1. Should you come across a copy of Raising a Reader, I strongly recommend picking one up and (after reading it yourself) passing it along to an educator for sharing at their place of employ.