The End?

In light of the recent tornadoes in Central OK, I’ve been a little adverse to writing about any experience I may be having. My petty end-of-the-first year is so small and SHOULD be eclipsed by the horror of what happened on Sunday and Monday night. How dare I assert my petty-day-to-day when families are mourning the loss of their babies? While families are still displaced? While everything people own is scattered and shredded and mildewing? While people are separated from their pets, their comfort in times of distress (Sorry, I’m a dog person now… think what you will!). However, it is important to know that life keeps going. Pain happens, sucky things happen: but life goes on. But I’ll get to that here in a bit…

First of all, I’d like to thank all of my friends and family who have called me and texted me and donated in some way to this horrible, horrible chain of events. You never know how loved you are until you get a million texts making sure you’re okay! I never knew how hard it was to be in a tornadic situation by yourself. I once took care of a whole dorm (granted, it was over Easter break so there weren’t many there…) and I felt less pressure and concern then than I did taking care of myself. I think it has something to do with being responsible and having something to take your mind of things… but no matter: this weekend was rough. But, I had plenty of support and I am going to call on that support a little further…

I have consistently been offering prayers every waking moment of the last few days, and I urge you to do the same. In brokenness, there is rebirth. But it is a long, long hard road. If you’re reading this from out of state, please check out my Facebook or my twitter for ways you can help. A quick and easy one is to text STORM to 80888 for $10 for the Salvation Army. When the dust settles, I’ll be heading out with Samaritan’s Purse to help rebuild (you can donate to them as well!). I’ve been so impressed with how quickly everyone has come together. I’m honored to be a part of a state that feels like a family. Everyone, I mean EVERYONE has come together to help. I’m sure even the rubberneckers on I-35 who are holding up traffic have donated or shared themselves in this effort. A few of my students lost their homes on Sunday night so besides this horrible chain of events happening in my state (because I now, more than ever, consider myself an OKIE), this hit home. Literally. This came to a place where my heart is. And it destroyed stuff! I was just in Moore and Edmond the other day! I was looking forward to seeing some of my students for the last time this semester on Monday! This hurt me. If it can hurt me emotionally, just imagine what it has done to the thousands who are displaced! Please, please take a moment to pray for comfort and healing and strength, and please PLEASE donate to one of the amazing charities that are working ceaselessly for the people of Moore.

In tragic times like this, much like Camus would advocate, and YOU KNOW Christ would, we must move forward. We must keep going. If we breathe: WE LIVE. We go on. We rebuild. We recover. We stand together. Yes, we weep with those who weep, and mourn with those who mourn. But we rejoice with those who rejoice! Everyone who survived has a reason to rejoice! It doesn’t seem like it, and I sure as heck know that the parents of the Plaza Towers kids feel like there is not hope. But did you see that sunset just hours after the tornado? Did you see all of the first-responders and how quickly, methodically, and passionately they did their jobs? Did you see how many people rose up INSTANTLY to help? There were so many heroes. So many stories of reunion. It is needless to say that this situation is horrible, it is devastating, it seems unnecessary… But there is hope. And because of that hope… I am going to finish this blog out with a few reflections on my first year as a teacher.

It would be arbitrary to compare my first year to a tornado… It would also be ill-timed… But I’ll be honest: I had a bad year. I went through my post-grade identity-crisis VERY soon after graduating and thus spent most of the summer and ALL of my first semester sulking. I will also be honest in that: I had no idea what I was doing or what I was getting myself into when I walked into the classroom on August 10. I was a naive, inept little baby. And it showed. I spent a lot of times crying and hating my job. I didn’t even like my students, really. But God really got ahold of me over break and I stepped into this semester with a confidence in my God-given abilities that I’ve never had before.

I can say now that I am a teacher. I can say now that I don’t really know anything in the grand scheme of things, but I am learning new things every day. I love each and every one of my students, especially the bad ones. My job isn’t a job, it’s my ministry. It’s my calling. I may not be the world’s best teacher, or the smartest, or the most liked, and certainly not the most hated… but by-golly… I love my job. It’s been a really, really, REALLY tough year but I made it out the other side. In approximately 30 hours, I’ll be on summer-time. I’m so unbelievably ready to leave and enjoy the summer and have adventure. But, I can say without a doubt in my mind: I’m excited to come back next year. AFTER AN APPROPRIATE AND LENGTH BREAK, of course…

Please keep Oklahoma in your prayers! It’s a long hard road ahead… but there’s hope. We have to know there’s hope.

MK

 

World Literature and the Youth of Today

I’ve been on my world lit soapbox since… probably my Junior year of high school. I see such great importance in it as a discipline and as a voice for humanity. We just read Alexander Solzhenitsyn‘s “One Great Heart” speech, a speech he did not get to present for his Nobel Prize acceptance as he was banned from Sweden. It is THE speech that promotes my field. It is THE speech that proves that World Literature, when used appropriately, can promote cultures while assimilating them as well. It’s beautiful, really. It’s the summation of what we’ve been doing all year long.

It’s the last thing we will be doing in this class before prepping for the final. It is supposed to wrap up just why we do what we do in this class, why I have pounded on the desk and thrown my pen across the room. Literacy makes us who we are. It expresses and influences; it reflects and it exposes. It’s important!

Second hour, in their normal form, sat like lumps on a log as we meandered through the speech. They won’t verbally answer questions so I make them answer them in their notes. And to that I will say: they are brilliant writers. But they’re missing so much. By keeping silent, they miss a lot of what this class has to offer.

Third hour, on the other hand, in a class period with 10 extra minutes, we used every single one of them to talk about the speech. We finished up Camus‘ “The Myth of Sisyphus” yesterday with the most enthusiasm I’ve ever seen. As we were discussing the nuggets of wisdom Camus throws out about life and living it in the happy and absurd times, they said things like “Holy crap, this is throwing bombs in my mind.” “This is deep.” Or my favorite, “This is the most fun I’ve ever had. This is good stuff.” They even became their own philosophisers as they transferred Camus’ lofty language into language they could understand. And as we entered deeper waters of philosophy toward the end, a student warned, “Whoa whoa whoa Ms K… we’re going too deep.” To which I replied, “Next year for my Sophomores, I’ll be sure and bring Philosophical Floaties so we don’t get too deep too quickly.”

Today, 3rd hour came prepared with their floaties. And I couldn’t have been more proud. As we discussed the importance of literature, we found some more nuggets of wisdom and we pounded out the truths we read on our desks. At the end of class one girl approached me, “Ms K, I didn’t even need my floaties. It wasn’t as deep. But I get it. I get why world lit is such a big deal.”

I could have cried. I could have shouted for joy. I could have stood on hilltops and made her my mascot but… I just smiled in silent acknowledgement of the truth.

With all the things that happen in this world, the sneaky government, the child warriors, the genocide, the racism, the pain, the hurt, the self-inflicted wounds… Truth sticks out. I have called my students to have standards and to influence others with their standards; to stand up for the truth and to let the truth set them free. My prayer today for my students, as well as my government, is that truth will be revealed as only God can reveal it. I pray that those with voices will promote the truth. I pray that the truth will set us free.

It may be idealistic, it may even be a feat bigger than mountains… but I personally know a mountain mover.

MK

Serial Sleepers CAN’T Slay with Words Instead…

That’s a House of Heroes reference if you didn’t get it…

So…

I have a student who will not stay awake in class. We could be doing swan dives off of my desk into a pool of cotton candy and he’d still sleep in the back. His sleepiness comes from an excessive amount of video gaming at night. He does not do his homework. He does not ask for help. He is 17 and in English II. I have given him all he needs, instruction and reminders, worksheets and encouragement… but he refuses to be helped.

Today, I caught him sleeping, just 10 minutes into the practice writing prompt I gave my 3rd hour. I sat at the desk next to his and saw him drooling all over his booklet. I tapped on the desk. His face turned bright red. I tapped on his booklet and gave him a “stop sleeping and get back to work” look. I stood and watched him stare at a blank page for at least a minute. I walked away.

You can lead a horse to water, but that doesn’t make them drink.

Five minutes later he approached my desk, “Ms. K, I’m not entirely sure what to do.” He didn’t bring me his booklet. He just stared at my desk.

“Why, —-? Why don’t you know what’s going on?” I folded my arms.

“Because… because I was not paying attention at all. I wasn’t listening.” He chuckled.

“Well in that case,” I squinted, “I am not explaining anything to you again. You had your chance. This is a practice for the real deal. Once I set you to working, you work. So go back and try again.”

He walked away.

It takes a lot for him to admit that he has actually missed something. But since he sleeps through 95% of instruction, I felt it best to tell him I couldn’t help him. I’ve been trying to equip him all semester with critical thinking skills that would cause him to think on his own. We have worked on thinking outside the box, on problem solving, on comprehension… but it appears that when you sleep through all of that stuff I’ve been trying to convey: YOU CANNOT FUNCTION ON THE TEST THAT IS SUPPOSED TO MEASURE HOW MUCH YOU HAVE LEARNED.

For about 10 minutes, he sat there and appeared to be reading the prompt or planning. And then, with his booklet in hand, he approached my desk again.

“I’ve read the instructions a million times and I can’t understand it.”

We read the instructions sentence by sentence. The first sentence, “Think of an event or situation that didn’t go as you had expected.”

“Uh, I don’t get it.” was his first response. After an explanation and some prompting, “Uh, I can’t think of any.”

“There’s never been a day that you had planned that didn’t go like you wanted it to? Or a video game that was difficult and didn’t go like you’d planned it to?”

“Well, no.”

“Then you’ll have to make something up. Just make sure it answers the prompt. It has to be something you didn’t expect to happen that you wish you could have changed.”

“I don’t know how to do that. I don’t really care if things don’t go as planned.”

“They’re not asking you if you care to answer the prompt. You have to work with whatever they give you. You have to think of something.”

“I’ll probably just not doing anything at all then.”

“That’s a good attitude. Let’s try this… So what if I told you we were going to have a party in this class tomorrow and we didn’t and instead I gave you a bunch of work to do?”

“That’s if I was even going to be here tomorrow.”

“—-, take the book and sit down. I obviously can’t help you because you’re not even TRYING to work with me here.”

He huffed and walked to his seat. He spent the rest of the class staring at his paper and scribbling down nonsense.

He will be upset and he won’t let me live this situation down because I didn’t help him when he needed help, and that’s what I’m here for right? But what he doesn’t get is that I’ve been here for the last 12 weeks. I’ve been here waiting for him to literally wake up and figure out that life is difficult but I’m trying to make it easier for him. I know he’s a teenager and whatnot, and I know that I was just as ornery to my parents when I was his age. But at the same time: I’m not his parents. I have been patient all year and I have tried to wake him up and keep him on task but if he doesn’t return the sentiment… there’s nothing I can do.

This is an age old question that has no answer. I am mad at this student because while he is probably not ever going to be a straight A student, he could put some effort into his life. And instead of taking out his incompetence and frustration on me, he should unleash it on himself. If students knew what motivation and self-worth meant… they’d all be better off for it. Instead, he will sit there and squander his life and his test and I will get penalized for it.

That’s really fair. Really, really fair. I understand why teachers give up and why they become complacent. It’s not right, but I get it. It’s not us who are failing our students, it’s our students who are failing us. We spend our livelihood, our days, our nights, our thoughts and prayers trying to engage and teach and produce successful students. But they just sit there. Common core is great. It is on the mark and it can work if used correctly. But at the end of the day, if a student doesn’t want to be reached…he won’t be reached. But he doesn’t pay the consequences for that: the teacher does.

You can lead a horse to water, but that doesn’t make them drink.

MK

Prooooooooooom. *yawn*

This last weekend was prom at Bethel High. All of my sophomores went. I seriously can only name a handful that didn’t go. So of course today is the day their bodies are yelling at them for not getting sleep on Saturday night.

I just set them into group work for the day. We are analyzing the four major characters in Julius Caesar. Each group has to find evidence in the text that supports their character as the main tragic hero. They’re doing their research on index cards for each Act and Scene. It’s a laborious process but they’re good at it if they will concentrate. I was originally going to have them write essays organizing their information but we don’t have time (the writing test is next Tuesday). Instead, I’m going to provide straws and string and they’re going to make graphic organizers in the form of mobiles for their reasons and their support. It’ll be great.

But today we did not start off on a good foot. Instead, they looked at me with sour eyes and muddled thoughts and chatty mouths. So I made them stand up and yell at the wall, to tell it how much Mondays suck. Only a handful played along. I asked them how many went to prom and all of their hands were raised.

I am all about community and experience and “it’s the journey” blah blah blah but this… this ridiculousness of Prom on a Saturday night and the draggin’ on Monday? Uhun. No ma’am. Ain’t nobody got time for that!

Prom is great but this is dumb. If 3rd hour comes in here dragging, I’m going to tell them to silently sneak around the entire basement without being seen through a teacher’s window. The first one back who doesn’t make a peep wins.

Either I’m a great teacher or I’m insane. Or both. Or it’s just a Monday.

MK

“Your Mom Went to College!”

Today I pulled the “do you see that paper over there? It means I know what I’m talking about.” In a conversation about inference and theme I made a sweeping generalization that, with the exception of a FEW things that I can’t even think of right now, there is no such thing as pure entertainment. Now, stay with me…

We’re crafting our Science Fiction stories about injustices in the world and my students would NOT accept what I had said about entertainment. So I clapped my hands and asked, “Raise your hand if you have graduated college. Raise your hand if you have a degree in literature.” Some smart asses raised their hands, but at the end of the day: they’re still just smart asses. I proceeded to tell students that while I am not an expert, it seems I am the only one in the room close enough to one. So I started to explain to them why my statement was true.

Upheaval.

I back pedaled for an example they’d understand. Three or four months ago, one of my very bright seniors crafted a story about pancakes. I asked her to explain what the story was about. The story centered around an agency one could call, one being a pancake, if they felt threatened or belittled. Her witty and satirical story was captivating and funny — it was entertaining. I asked her why she wrote the story, “Because another student told me he didn’t like pancakes and I think that’s silly so I wrote it to — oh, I see what you did there.”

Lightbulbs. Everywhere.

I proceeded, “While you were just being funny, and we were all entertained, you had a purpose in writing the story, did you not? You sought to defame the student’s prejudice and to make fun of it — you had a purpose. You had a reason. You had an underlying cause for writing the story.”

Lightbulbs dimmed and students began to yell at me saying I was just searching for meaning, to which I retorted, “Without some significance or meaning, what is there?”

Another student told me he wrote a story in church about a flower that strangled a hiker and said he had no meaning. I couldn’t get into it in class but there is meaning there whether he knows it or not. He feels suffocated by church, and has told me as much, and said that he saw the flower on the pulpit and thus concocted the story. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar… but that’s coincidence.

If we are the sum total of our experiences, then one cannot believe in coincidence because without those “coincidences” (ie experiences) we wouldn’t be who we are today. Until time travel is invented and alternate realities are brought into existence, all we have is this one chance as survival. One cannot believe in coincidences. And if one cannot believe in coincidence, then one cannot believe that there is no such thing as entertainment. Instead, there is purpose and only purpose. There is purpose and there is theme and there is something to “take home” from every story, whether crafted with a purpose or not.

And no, I do not exactly know what Philip K Dick was thinking when he wrote “The Crystal Crypt,” but I can tell you that he wouldn’t be as highly acclaimed, as widely published, or as well-read as he was/is if there wasn’t PURPOSE in his writing.

Also, if you stuck with a last name like that… you’d HAVE to be purposeful in all you did.

But I didn’t say that in class either.

Some things you just can’t teach high school students. And I’m sure some of my college professors are reading this thinking the same thing about me. And thus the dialogue and the Promethean struggle continues.

MK

Science Fiction and Civil Rights

I’m embarking on a very interesting journey in my Science Fiction class. This may prove more work for me than my students, but the idea of it is piquing my interest…

We just read “The Crystal Crypt” by Philip K Dick. It’s a really great story about prejudice and a Catch-22 of sorts. I found it on a whim and we just finished it today. The next two days we will be focusing on a project where we will attempt to address issues of Civil Rights via a science fiction short story.

I started to research race and ethnicity and civil rights connections in science fiction and while I got some google hits, my academic researcher either isn’t up to snuff or there’s nothing out there. This has happened to me before when cross analyzing David Malouf’s An Imaginary Life with TS Eliot’s “The Wasteland” and its section “V. What the Thunder Said,” as well as Keats’ “Ode to a Nightingale.” All of them have to do with the transience of life, inability to affect change, and the general melancholy of the modern man. I poured my heart and soul into that 20 page paper (only had to be 12!). And when I presented it to Dr. Hagans, he looked legitimately surprised that that kind of cross analysis and information had come from my brain, mouth, and fingertips. To be honest, I was a bit surprised myself. But what I learned is that though each author has his own statement, they’re all basically talking about the same things. My hope, and encouragement from Dr. Hagans, was to pursue some more lit theory and add it to my paper. I never had time to, and I hope that when I further my eduction (sometime ages and ages hence) that I can revisit it. I’d like to devote some time now to this new venture, but it seem as though my research is leading me to more research, and so on… What started out as a simple compare-and-contrast with high school students is quickly becoming a full-time project. Not that I’m complaining…

I think the subject is very interesting for a number of reasons. 1) humanity expresses itself through literature, it stands the test of time, 2) humanity instructs itself through literature, 3) science fiction is not a mere “what if” but it is also a “watch out” and a “pay attention” and a “caution!” to all that read it.

In every Doctor Who episode and every Science Fiction journal article and story there is that underlying theme of accepting The Other. I want to know why we use Science Fiction to get that point across. I also want to see if some of the mid 20th century writers were using their works to promote/defame the civil rights movement. A lot of science fiction stories look at the struggle, prejudice, and eventual destruction or resolution amongst warring parties or different races/species. Star Trek is riddled with the idea of accepting The Other. This isn’t anything new, I know. I’m not coming up with anything new, and I know some of my academic friends may read this and scoff. And that’s fine. I’ll write you into my next science fiction story as another world that denies the existence of a different world — or something like that.

It is my belief that all literature is hiding something. And you can blame Marxist-moral-neohistorical reader within… but if you think about literature for very long, you’ll begin to see it to. That’s why I teach: because who were are a human race (our struggles and differences and fall-outs and future outcomes) it’s all in the literature. Whether I agree with it all or not, I see the situations amoral literature as inevitable and the science fiction as a warning to mankind.

Do not tell me that Art is For Art’s Sake. It may well have intended to be just that, but it’s not. It was created with a purpose. And when we understand that: I think we become more fully human.

Civ haunts me. In the best way possible.

MK

It’s a Monday.

I started my 2nd hour class with Kid Snippets. I thought that’d be a good idea. I laughed and so did my students but ten minutes later… during Antony’s funeral speech… they were back to falling asleep. It makes my life very difficult when my 2nd hour can’t stay awake, refuses to be engaged, and can’t focus. I have done everything but run around and act like a monkey, swinging from the ceiling and such… But tomorrow I may have to do just that.

It’s a Monday.

Iced coffee and a real breakfast can’t even help me now. I’m alone on a sinking ship of high schoolers! And as the bleery eyed kids walked out of my room… I knew I needed to seek help — AND QUICKLY.

I googled “ways to keep students awake in high school.” I found this AMAZING list of things. With my on-the-fly teacher’s brain I devised two rules: talk in a British accent when answering a question and throw your pencil on the ground when done with a writing prompt. They ate it up like candy. And lo and behold: our Monday got infinitely better.

Also, I kept thinking of this Olan Roger’s video. It helped me through.

Happy Monday, and remember: you too can be a master commander of Mondays.

Testing: Springtime and Change

It’s been awhile since I have chronicled my adventures. Life here in classroom 8 has been trucking along. In the last few days I’ve heard several comments about how worried my current students were. They claimed that last semester’s students said I was mean, unfair, and made them work too much. My current student’s have boasted that this semester is not only fun but they’ve learned stuff. I’m both proud and scared at the same time: testing is in a week an a half. And when it gets here, it’ll all be over but the crying.

We are currently doing Julius Caesar this week and next. But as I type, they are doing a practice EOI test. I took it upon myself to give them the test, gauge their progress, and then make up packets for them to hone their skills. On the one hand: I’m differentiating. On the other, I’m going to have to scramble this next week to get everything together.

But at the end of the day… it’s for my students. I have had some tough conversations this semester about cutting and depression and pregnancy and Christ and gay marriage and totalitarianism and… and… and… I have gotten frustrated with my 2nd hour but I have not lost my temper. I have had several students push every button, fail their work, and cease to try. But I have not given up. Even when I wanted to give up: I haven’t. I am praying my students pass their tests. But even if they deny everything I’ve tried to impart into their sophomoric brains, I know that God has taught me A LOT about what it means to be a leader, what it means to be a teacher, what it means to be me. 

Several other factors into God’s molding have been my recent car accident and that my roommate is leaving at the end of May. Lots of changes are happening and this whole growing up thing is hard… But through it all I’ve had Christ and the support of the few readers who peruse this blog. And for that, I thank you.

I hope to be posting some of my lesson plans for Julius Caesar soon. I’m really enjoying this play and oddly enough, so are the students!

 

Joe and Jon

I started off this should-have-been snow day with a cup’a joe and Jon Foreman. If you haven’t started your day like that, you should try it. It’s good for the soul.

I haven’t updated on my adventures in teaching in awhile, for a few reasons. One of those reasons is that professionally, my lips are sealed. I only wished to portray my awesome calling as it truly is: all the good, bad, and ugly. I am not ashamed of what I’ve written but do not want to cause a stumbling block for someone else, or to have my words misconstrued. That to say, I love my students and I love my job. I have been wrestling with my blogging tendencies but I feel like God uses my words for His purposes so I will continue to talk about the amazing things He’s doing in my classroom.

The truth is, with the two-ish snow days we had last week, along with MLK day… class has been rather chaotic. We’re currently going over Chinese poetry and everyone is being a bit stubborn. Today we will attempt to review poetry terms. My strongest desire is that the students see past their own personal bubbles and see the forest through the trees. If being a parent is anything like this overwhelming hope I have for my students, my own children are in for a ride.

The more I teach, the more I realize just how essential my field is for growing minds. I’m not trying to get them to remember Gilgamesh and Li Po, I am just trying to teach them that the world is a bigger place and there are so many ways to explore it and think about it. I’m teaching the future how to think, not what to think. But they beg of me to tell them what to think for the test.

I digress… Here’s to the teachers who didn’t get a snow day today. May you bless your class as God has blessed you.

MK

Valentine’s Day

It’s that time of the year, folks!

Now, as some of my friends gear up for this holiday to be singly-stupid or couple-cuddly, I am taking a new spin on the day. Valentine’s day is about love. Duh. But more than that fluffy, romantic, fifty-bucks-for-roses kind of love… it’s about taking a day out of the whole year to tell people what they mean to you. This shouldn’t be a radical thought. In fact, shame on us for having to set aside a DAY to do something we should be doing all year long. But I digress… It’s also a day for making people feel special.

I will be spending Valentine’s day at Parent Teacher Conferences where I will try to remember how each family is special… (it’ll be difficult). My kind and loving flatmate will be bringing me McAlister’s (with sweet tea of course). She will be spending the exciting night approximately three million miles away from her luvuh, so we will “sulk” together.

The distance and the singleness don’t have to make the night a bust. In fact… I have a huge turn-around for this weekend. On Friday, Noelle and Shante and I are treating ourselves to Safe Haven at the Jones Theater and these two things for dinner:

Paula Deen’s Quick Crab Stew

Betty Crocker’s Tiramisu Cake

That’s right people. It’s gettin’ all fancy up in hurr. I’ll be pairing the meal with a Chardonnay and a Pinot Noir. It’ll be nice to just cooke a nice meal and enjoy an evening with the ladies.

Please, take today to tell people you care about them. You don’t have to buy expensive things or have super awesome cards. Just say what everyone is dying to hear, “Hey, I like you. You are loved and appreciated.”

Happy V-Day, Y’all.

MK