Archive for May, 2009

One Word.

Tuesday, May 26th, 2009

Plastics.

Except I don’t think they’re the future; I think they’re a necessary evil, with emphasis on the evil.  This article explains a lot, so read it.  All of it.  This video is also quite sobering; I discovered it while doing research for Green Week last year.

One more tiny piece of the puzzle: plastic bottles are being recycled in increasing quantities (although I do think that in a few centuries, our descendants will laugh at us for using the last of our fossil fuel to package, ship and distribute tiny quantities of something that we could get practically free out of any tap in any building in the developed world.)  The caps are a different story: they are a special type of rigid plastic that can’t currently be recycled in this country.  At recycling centers, they are separated out and thrown — yep — into landfills, if they don’t find their way into rivers and oceans first.

They are much smaller than bottles, and they come in pretty colors and nice neat shapes, so they often go unnoticed.  But once you start looking, you see them everywhere: half-buried in the lawn of your workplace, rolling away from the curb in the parking lot, floating in the water at the dock. Little plastic circles that will never go away.  Over time, they will photodegrade into smaller and smaller plastic “nurdles” that are even more toxic and bear an unfortunate resemblance to fish eggs, e.g., food for sea mammals and birds.

I’ve been noticing them, because I’ve been looking, ever since a colleague told me about Aveda’s new campaign to recycle bottlecaps.  She put a big empty pretzel jar in each one of her classrooms and spread the word in her classes (she teaches Marine Ecology.) It was amazing how quickly they filled up.  I started a little pile on my kitchen counter, and in the two weeks we were off for spring break, I had ammassed quite a few.

Today I made a sign, which I hung around the neck of an empty glass vase that’s already half-full with caps (someone gave us a case of sparkling water, which mercifully is almost gone; the others are from detergent, vitamins, and the occasional juice or soda) and placed it in my studio.  I’m telling my students about it in hopes that they’ll bring their caps to me, and in hopes that they’ll ask the tough questions that no one wants to ask: why is this so complicated?  Why do we have to mail these away to recycle them?  Why did we start producing them in the first place?  And, most importantly, can we stop?

Bad Words

Monday, May 25th, 2009

Everyone’s got a funny cursing story: my little brother, at four, pulled a strange tool out of the kitchen drawer and said, “Mom, I’d like to know what the hell this is.”  My sister whipped around to look at my mom, wondering what awful punishment lay in store for him.  I used to come home with colorful phrases I’d learned on the bus — one of the reasons my parents pulled me out of public school.  When asked if I knew what they meant, I’d respond, “No, but everyone was laughing when they were saying it.”  I won’t repeat my husband’s story here, as it contains actual profanity, but it’s especially funny because it’s grammatically incorrect profanity.

These stories are generally funny because it’s one of the toughest things to teach a child — what to say and not say.  The most obvious example is through our own speech.  If we curse, they will learn to curse, too, even if they are too smart to do so in front of us. But even if we don’t curse, we can overuse certain terms that then become substitutes for swear words. I remember a three-year-old piano student who had been taught to say, “Oh, MAN!” instead of, “Oh, GOD!”  Not only was it overused — every time he played a wrong note — I thought there was a fundamental problem with being so disrespectful toward something God created in his own image; it was really just as disrespectful as using God’s own name that way.  And even words like “stupid” can be poisonous, causing constant negativity.  Some close friends of ours wrestled with this with their young children and came up with the rule that you could call a thing stupid, but not a person.  (Three-year-old logic twisted that rule quite a bit.)

Most of my students are beyond their formative years and are using foul language as a way to vent or rebel, so I tend to just ignore it, and they stop once they realize they won’t get attention for it.  Of course, there are always exceptions: a few years ago one of my Creative Writing students slipped a four-letter word into a story she was writing.  I ignored it.  She tried using a different one in the next story, which I also ignored.  Finally, when she started including several in every single piece she wrote, I had to confront her about it.  “It’s not that I object to this language,” I said.  “It’s just that, as a writer, you need to learn better ways to express yourself; foul language is very limiting, both for your technique and for your intended audience.  Also, you’re using this one wrong.”  She seemed embarrassed by the conversation and didn’t try it again.

A friend of a friend* has an interesting series up called “Ten Bad Assumptions for Training Children.”  In number 9, “Words Can Be Bad,” he explains that he and his wife have used the word “Zero” where most people would say “No.”  This is partly because he “can’t stand to see a little kid using ‘no’ recklessly,” and partly because “‘Zero’ is a much more difficult thing for kids to say.” Seems like a clever idea to me, though it would sure be difficult to change your own vocabulary first.  Have any of you parents have ever experimented with alternative vocabulary?

*I don’t actually know this person and don’t agree with much of what’s on his site.  In particular, he seems very defensive about, and threatened by, Orthodox-Catholic traditions.  That said, I found this series very thought-provoking and will probably bring it up again.

Saturday Teacher Feature: Jeff Cagle

Saturday, May 23rd, 2009

After my first year of teaching, there was a big part of me that just wanted to GIVE UP.  And go get a real job selling vacuum cleaners or training zebras for the circus.  I remember saying, “This job is too easy in some ways and too hard in others.”  But after a few times of saying that, I realized it was really a challenge — and far be it from me to shrink from one of those!

I began massing my resources for the next school year.  The biggest hole by far in my SAT students’ knowledge was Geometry, where they simply didn’t know the material and weren’t willing to work on it. (”I just can’t do Geometry.”)  I had encountered a pleasant surprise when I took my first practice SAT after almost a decade of Mathlessness and discovered I remembered almost everything, but I still didn’t know how to teach it.

So, I did the only sensible thing: I e-mailed Mr. Cagle.

Jeff Cagle taught me for the first time in 8th grade Geometry.  I remember very clearly that it was the first time my parents said, “Sorry, we can’t help you with your homework.  We don’t understand it either.”  I also remember getting tearful more than once (but not in class, of course; I’m not so cruel as my own students) over concepts that I just couldn’t seem to grasp.  But somehow, Mr. Cagle was always able to sort it out once we were reviewing the concepts in class.

My best memory of Mr. Cagle has to be two classes later.  I had him for AP Chemistry, and the fact that I passed the test with a 4 attests to his brilliance; I have never been a science person and didn’t think I was anywhere near ready for the exam.  But I remember his lessons in Physics better, and in particular one wonderful morning when we walked in to find him sitting on a desk with his guitar over his knees, absentmindedly strumming.

We didn’t know what to do; we awkwardly took our seats and tried to chat until the bell, but it was hard to ignore the fact that our teacher was making music in the front of the room.  Just after the bell, he broke into song, and we all just listened.  We’d heard him sing before in chapel and knew he was talented, but hearing him in the classroom was a different, unexpected pleasure.  He finished the first song and seamlessly segued into a short demonstration of frequency and wavelength; showing us how the frets measured the changing sound.  Then he began to play what was probably my favorite song of all time, written by probably my favorite band of all time: U2’s “Running To Stand Still.”  It was especially meaningful because, after years of dismissing their music, I had just bought Joshua Tree and had a personal epiphany while listening to it.  “This is music I like,” I thought.  And now my teacher was playing music I liked in the classroom, instead of teaching from the textbook.  I thought I had died and gone to heaven, except that in heaven I wouldn’t have been too self-conscious to harmonize on the chorus.

What was great about this lesson?  Three things: first, he shocked us out of our comfort zones, ensuring that he would have our full attention and that we would remember the experience.  Second, he appealed to us on our level, playing something he thought we might recognize and that wasn’t necessarily “Christian.” (This was a major issue at that time and place, and he established himself firmly on the side of quality music rather than music with a clear label.)  Third, he really did integrate fun, joy, and wonder into a lesson he would have taught anyway.  We probably learned just as much as we would have in a lecture, but instead of the lecture, we got to enjoy ourselves and learn organically.

Apologies for the long introduction, but I wanted you to get a sense for the kind of teacher you’re about to hear from.  Jeff Cagle, of my proud alma mater, Chapelgate Christian Academy in Marriottsville:

What do you teach, and how long have you been teaching it?

I’ve been teaching science and math here for 17 years.  I’ve also taught Bible and computer programming courses.

Who or what inspired you to teach?

I had wonderful high school teachers and wanted to give back a bit.  My original plan was to teach for five years and then go to seminary.  That morphed into teaching into perpetuity and getting a seminary degree on the side.

What’s the toughest thing about teaching?

When you’re a student, the goal is 90% correctness, more or less.  When you are a teacher, getting 90% of students to excel is probably not going to happen.  So I had to rethink what “success” meant as a teacher.  More prosaically, I really hate paperwork.

When do you have the most fun while teaching?

I live for the “A-ha” moments.  I even have a mental image of one particular student holding an imaginary light bulb over her head. :)

What one thing do you try to teach all of your students — the one thing that would enable you to say, “I was a good teacher”?

Hm, that’s tough.  I try to teach them not to be afraid of hard things, but they don’t know that.  More explicitly, I try to teach them the value of reading in whatever discipline they’re working in; the value of clear, logical thinking; and I try to inspire them to experiment a little when stuck.

Any parting thoughts?

I strive to weave my curriculum into a net of a few powerful ideas so that students will be able to accomplish a lot not only this year, but five years hence.

(I heard a curious echo when I read Mr. Cagle’s response to the One Thing.  I push those things with my students, too, and I’m sure it’s because he pushed me.  I guess it proves that you never know how far your influence might travel — a thought both wonderful and terrifying.)

3(Good News)

Thursday, May 21st, 2009

1. Big news about the literary magazine: through my blessed colleague Melissa, I found a school connection who would print our books at a substantial discount.  We were able to get 12 pages, plus the cover, in color — and I didn’t have to go a penny over budget.  Moral: it pays to know people.

2. I got word at yesterday’s faculty meeting that our school has some unexpected grant money available to teachers who are in school.  This means that the course I took this spring (and got an A, thank you very much) won’t cost me anything.  Three weeks before a trip to Europe is a good time to come into some money!

3. Also with an A: my brilliant husband, who just presented his thesis project.  It was about the permeability of landscape on college campuses.  Or something like that.  I dropped out of architecture school, okay?  What do you want from me?!

Resolution

Sunday, May 17th, 2009

Looking for a seat in the lunchroom never gets less intimidating.  I surveyed the group of high schoolers, trying to see if there were any who 1) I knew, and 2) wouldn’t be embarrassed if a teacher sat down next to them.  It was the school’s coffeehouse / poetry slam, where I was supposedly co-coordinating with the music teacher.  In fact, he and the students had basically planned it, and I was there for moral support (and to be another Adult in Charge in case some kind of disaster took place.)

Then I saw a familiar face: the mother of one of my private students.  She was sitting alone, reading the same novel she had been reading two nights before when she brought her daughter to my house for SAT tutoring.  I approached her.  “How nice to see you here!”  She put her novel away and we chatted for a bit; apparently her daughter is quite an accomplished musician, playing flute and piano in addition to her main instrument, the french horn, which she plays with the Maryland Youth Symphony Orchestra.

“It’s nice that she wanted you to come,” I said.  She agreed: “We’re still on speaking terms.  Most of the time, anyway.”  We both laughed at that.

Then one of my students approached me with a list of poems that would be read during the show.  I was supposed to “approve” them (more on that later, ugh.)  I scanned through and circled a few things, then sent her off.

“Do you have a teaching degree, too?” my conversation partner asked after the brief exchange.  No, I said.  I studied architecture and got a degree in classics, but not in education.  She shook her head.  “You should go back to school or something.  You’re obviously really good at teaching.  It fits you well.”

I was a little taken aback.  She hadn’t even seen my Teacher Voice!  All I had done, really, was talk to a student.

She continued, “I’ve thought about teaching, but I’m not sure I could do it.  Then again, I got my degree in engineering.  What the hell was I thinking?”  She laughed, and I laughed with her again, not letting on that I had thought the exact same thing (about myself, and about teaching) only moments before, as I typed out a scathing letter of protest to the administrators who refused to help me print the literary magazine.

Somehow, praise from a stranger is more meaningful.  It’s not exactly resolution, but it helps a lot.  At least for today.