Life Imitating Lit

But the words were hardly uttered, before the smile was struck out of his face and succeeded by an expression of such abject terror and despair, as froze the very blood of the two gentlemen below.

Don’t believe what the students say: Gothic mystery novels are so relevant to my life.  For instance, I completely sympathized with the expression of Dr. Jekyll in the passage above yesterday morning, when NOT ONE student from my class remembered to do her homework or bring her textbook.

Mr. Utterson at last turned and looked at his companion.  They were both pale; and there was an answering horror in their eyes.

Oh, and did I mention this was the morning of my first observation?  For my Master’s degree program?  

“God forgive us, God forgive us,” said Mr. Utterson.

But Mr. Enfield only nodded his head very seriously, and walked on once more in silence.

I would have liked to follow suit, but what I did was calmly allow the students to get their books en masse; then borrowed an armful of copies from the workroom for the students who didn’t even have their books at school; then gave them a five-minute reading period before the lively discussion commenced.

And, for what it’s worth, my instructor was impressed at my handling of a difficult, though all-too-familiar, situation.  “How long did you say you’d been teaching?”

“Six years,” I said proudly.

“So you know how it is.”

Yes.  Yes, I sure do.  It takes a lot more than that to freeze my blood.

Keeping a Sense of Humor

Asking questions always relaxes me. In fact, I sometimes think that my secret profession is that I’m a private investigator, a detective. I always enjoy finding out about people. Even if they are in absolute agony, I always find it very interesting. 

Wally Shawn, My Dinner with Andre

One of my favorite questions to ask, after I know someone’s profession, is about their strangest or funniest experiences in their line of work.  Some people (priests, for instance) are off-limits, but most are very willing to share.  This is how I got to find out about the grant applicant who wanted a new grant for a new car after he wrecked the one the first grant purchased.  And the substitute teacher who came home for lunch and fell asleep in front of the woodstove, waking only when the principal called to ask if she was coming back for her afternoon classes.  And the trail guide who had to patiently explain to a rider that the bears in the woods weren’t out of their cages; they actually lived in the forest full-time.  And the customer who wanted a pizza delivered uncut because of her daughter’s religion, which forbade anything that had been “premeditated by another person.” (And actually, the friend who told me that last story is now a priest!)

My classroom and studio are a mine of great stories, as you well know, but here are two other sources of good material.  First, a blog I occasionally read, because too-frequent exposure would probably cause an abdominal rupture from hysterical laughter, is Dr. Grumpy.  He’s an anonymous neurologist who deals with his work stress by posting story after story of ridiculous patient interactions:

Dr. Grumpy: “At your last visit you tried Feelbetter. Has it helped?”

Mrs. Shootme: “No. The first pill made me horribly sick. I had every side effect I read about, so I threw it away.”

Dr. Grumpy: “But, according to our records, you had me call a refill into the pharmacy?”

Mrs. Shootme: “I was afraid you’d get angry if you thought I’d stopped it.”

Second, Bruce Buschel, the aforementioned contributor to You’re the Boss, has posted a laugh-out-loud list of his favorite “helpful comments” from customers of his restaurant, Southfork Kitchen:

Guest: Why don’t you have wild salmon?
Owner: It comes from Alaska.
Guest: But it fits your profile.
Owner: Large carbon footprint.
Guest: Salmon have feet?

Hey, if we can all laugh about it, it can’t be that bad.

Closure

I’ve been a fan of the “You’re the Boss” blog ever since Bruce Buschel (of 100 Rules for Servers fame) joined several years ago.  Maybe the more accurate thing to say would be that I’m a fan of Bruce Buschel, so I occasionally read the blog.  

Last week, though, I accidentally clicked on a piece by another contributor, and it floored me:

One person has stuck with me all of these years. About 10 years to be exact. I almost never talk about him; I can barely stand to think about him. It is not that he was the worst employee I ever had. He wasn’t. It wasn’t that he caused me the most grief. He didn’t. It isn’t that I am mad at him. I’m not. Actually, I have been mad at myself — or embarrassed with myself — for getting into a situation that ended badly. 

[Later:]

From what I remember, there was no ugly screaming (maybe a little). It was more like a sad divorce where the parties just go their separate ways … What seemed like a good idea wasn’t. 

I have been on the other side of this kind of parting before, and though (unlike the young man in question) I still believe I didn’t deserve it, I can sure sympathize with what Goltz says about the person being “stuck” with you.  There’s something unsettling about a relationship that ends in this way, whether or not it was fair or expected.

Another interesting side note: the offending party’s ability to apologize figured prominently in the closure of this situation.  This test provides some great examples of phrases NOT to use when trying to make things right.

Teachers vs. Parents

The same semester I read Whitaker’s What Great Teachers Do Differently, I also read Ron Clark’s Excellent 11. Yet another reference to that class in this piece by Clark for CNN, in which he sternly admonishes helicopter parents to let teachers do what they do best:

Trust us. At times when I tell parents that their child has been a behavior problem, I can almost see the hairs rise on their backs. They are ready to fight and defend their child, and it is exhausting. One of my biggest pet peeves is when I tell a mom something her son did and she turns, looks at him and asks, “Is that true?” Well, of course it’s true. I just told you. 

My friend Melanie sent it to me several weeks ago, but I finally had enough time to read it yesterday, and I can only say AMEN!  Because, in the end, it’s all about the students.  And even they are not served well by indulgence.  They need to learn the rules of the classroom, and sometimes, their parents do too.

Public Speaking 101

Thanks to our fearless governor for providing the following stellar examples of what NOT to say at a press conference:

Repeat Yourself

“It is the height of stupidity and the height of selfishness for any citizen to stay in Ocean City and put a burden on and risk the lives of first responders by being foolish, being stupid, or being selfish,” O’Malley said.

Run On … and On

“This is a mandatory evacuation order. It is not something that the mayor of Ocean City or I have ordered lightly. It has not been done in modern times and people need to get off the island of Ocean City and not be a burden to their fellow citizens or to first responders who are going to have plenty of other important work to do.” 

Meanwhile, my wise and selfless in-laws are safely inland, dreading their next trip to the beach.  In Baltimore, we’re preparing for several days of rain, some heavy winds and possible loss of power — nothing like what the coastal population will face.  Our thoughts and prayers are with them.

You're So Predictable

Usually, when I say this, it’s to the tune of the EMF song and in gentle mockery of my husband — after he’s said “I just bought us concert tickets,” or “Let’s have pizza for dinner!”  I like to think of myself as the spontaneous one.

But after having downloaded Google Chrome as my browser of preference, I am finding that it applies to me too. Its automatic home page for a new window or tab includes thumbnail screen shots of your most popular eight sites, and it’s rare that I need to go anywhere else.  Here they are:

  • Gmail: Still the best e-mail service out there, especially since I discovered you can stay signed in to multiple accounts simultaneously.  Since I have different addresses for work, home and junk, this is especially useful.
  • WordPress: I haven’t used SquareSpace enough to replace this one, but it will happen by the end of the week, I’m sure.  My new platform is much more snazzy, although we’re still getting used to each other.
  • Catonsville Patch: I’ve been writing more frequently here during the summer, mostly in a series called “From the Farm” in which I pick one item from the week’s CSA pickup and share recipe ideas.  “Delicious Dish” reincarnated?  Perhaps.
  • Google Voice: Your ticket to free unlimited text messages, phone calls through your computer and cell phone, and text-transcribed voicemail messages that never fail to make me laugh; I’m sure the software will improve over time, but for now “my towels and laundry” becomes “my pal the laundry” and “it’s Naomi” becomes “it’s mail me.”  When the message is in another language, it’s funnier still.
  • Google Reader: This list is beginning to sound like a commercial plug!  I resisted Reader for a long time, thinking it would make me more of a blog addict, but it’s actually made it faster and more efficient — I only see new posts and I only need to go to one place.  
  • The New York Times: After touting the clever loophole idea, I caved and bought a subscription for the summer — it’s half price for the first 12 weeks, and by the time the deal runs out, I’ll be too busy to read it anyway.  For now, I’m loving what I took for granted for so long: the ability to graze at will through all kinds of interesting material, even on my phone while waiting in a particularly boring line!
  • Flickr: Since this service became basically free for normal people, I’ve been using it to share photos quickly and easily.  It also dovetails nicely with a cute little app called Instagram (thanks, Jo) which can make ordinary photos look retro, scary or warm and fuzzy in — you guessed it — an instant.
  • Netflix: We’ve been exploring new material this summer — new to us, without a television or time to watch it during the school year, but old and dusty to the rest of the world.  We’re particularly taken with In Treatment for its simple compositions and plotlines that focus almost entirely on the psyche.  Next up are Mad Men and The Sopranos.  Alas, nothing so far has come close to the experience of LOST!

So that’s my online life, in a nutshell.  Isn’t it sad, how similar I am to millions of others on the planet?  One more reason to turn off the computer and go outside for awhile!

Guess What's In My Head

Me: Je veux garder mon pantalon.

Student: I want to… something… my pants?

Me: Bravo!  Et ‘garder’?

Student: I don’t know that one.

Me: Think of what you would do with something you like.

Student: I would hide it.

Me: Okay… what if I tried to take it from you?  What would you do?

Student: I would smack you.

[Editor’s note: student is also a good friend and generally non-violent.]

The above dialogue illustrates one of the worst, and most common, teaching techniques: Guess What’s In My Head.  I was trying to help her define the word garder, to keep.  To me, the hint seemed obvious: of course you’d try to keep something you liked.  But looking at the sentence now, I am appalled.  There are a hundred different things you could do with something you liked, from framing it to eating it.  How did I expect her to guess “keep”?

As teachers, we have a fear of giving away the information; somehow we feel we haven’t done our job if we simply tell the student the answer, so we resort to cloak-and-dagger games.  It’s absurd, really, and yet I catch myself doing it all the time, and becoming frustrated with students who can’t guess what’s in my head.  I’ve been a lot more aware of it since re-reading the following excerpt from Judy Blume’s Blubber: Miss Rothbelle is an extreme case, but she reminds me that teaching means making sure students have the information they need, even if that means directly telling them what it is.

When she finished her song she was right next to Wendy.

“Wendy… can you tell me what was coming out of my mouth as I sang?”

“Out of your mouth?” Wendy asked.

“That’s right,” Miss Rothbelle told her.

“Well… it was… um… words?”

“No… no… no,” Miss Rothbelle said.

Wendy was surprised. She can always give teachers the answers they want.

Miss Rothbelle moved on. “Do you know, Caroline?”

“Was it sound?”

“Wrong!” Miss Rothbelle said, turning. “Donna Davidson, can you tell me?”

“It was a song,” Donna said.

“Really Donna… we all know that!” Miss Rothbelle looked around. “Linda Fischer, do you know what was coming out of my mouth as I sang to the class?”

Linda didn’t say anything.

“Well, Linda …” Miss Rothbelle said.

“I think it was air,” Linda finally told her. “Either that or breath.”

Miss Rothbelle walked over to Linda’s desk. “That was not the correct answer. Weren’t you paying attention?” She pulled a few strands of Linda’s hair… .

She walked up and down the aisles until she stopped at my desk… .“We’ll see if you’ve been paying attention… suppose you tell me the answer to my question.

”I had no idea what Miss Rothbelle wanted me to say. There was just one thing left that could have been coming out of her mouth as she sang, so I said, “It was spit.”

“What?” Miss Rothbelle glared at me.

“I mean, it was saliva,” I told her.

Miss Rothbelle banged her fist on my desk. “That was a very rude thing to say. You can sit in the corner for the rest of the period.”…

At the end of the music period Robby Winters called out, “Miss Rothbelle… Miss Rothbelle …”

“What is it?” she asked.

“You never told us what was coming out of your mouth when you sang.”

“That’s right,” Miss Rothbelle said. “I didn’t.”

“What was it?” Robby asked.

“It was melody,” Miss Rothbelle said. Then she spelled it. “M-e-l-o-d-y. And every one of you should have known.” She blew her pitchpipe at us and walked out of the room.

Backchannels and Consumerists, All

Ironically, I’ve been reading the New York Times much more frequently since it instituted a monthly article limit; the “most popular” list is now tailored to my specific interests (philosophy, education and cooking) and I can read at my leisure through the loopholes of Twitter and my cell phone.

Unfortunately, this often leads to an elevated heart rate at an inconvenient location.  Last week, waiting for a delayed plane, I read this flippantly upbeat suggestion that teachers embrace social networking as a classroom tool:

With Twitter and other microblogging platforms, teachers from elementary schools to universities are setting up what is known as a “backchannel” in their classes. The real-time digital streams allow students to comment, pose questions (answered either by one another or the teacher) and shed inhibitions about voicing opinions. Perhaps most importantly, if they are texting on-task, they are less likely to be texting about something else.

Forgive me, but this is about as silly as encouraging your children to experiment with drugs in your own house, since “they’re going to try it anyway.” Our attention spans are already hopelessly short, and our ability to relate on a human level severely hampered:

“When we have class discussions, I don’t really feel the need to speak up or anything,” said one of her students, Justin Lansink, 17. “When you type something down, it’s a lot easier to say what I feel.”

Of course it is, Justin.  It’s always easier to type an angry e-mail instead of confronting someone, or to text “luv u” rather than declare your feelings outright.  Why are we encouraging this, then, instead of helping our students to focus on the interactions and articulations that make them uniquely human?

If I’d read that piece with openmouthed indignation, I read this condemnation of the college experience with a wistful sigh of resignation:

In a typical semester, for instance, 32 percent of the students did not take a single course with more than 40 pages of reading per week, and 50 percent did not take any course requiring more than 20 pages of writing over the semester. The average student spent only about 12 to 13 hours per week studying …

Not surprisingly, a large number of the students showed no significant progress on tests of critical thinking, complex reasoning and writing that were administered when they began college and then again at the ends of their sophomore and senior years.

The article goes on to mention colleges’ tendencies to invest in residence and athletic facilities and to rely on student opinion forms as the main barometer of an instructor’s skill in the classroom – which pushes instructors to be pushovers, which further dilutes the academic rigor of the school.  I’ve certainly seen this in my graduate school, where I’m at the top of every class through a reasonable, but not burdensome, amount of effort – embarrassing, really.  College should be hard.

Well, harrumph.  That’s what I get for reading the paper.