As an aspiring high school and eventually college English teacher, I've started compiling things my past teachers and/or professors did and didn't do, as well as what I've witnessed this past school year as a sub.
I'm attempting to form my own preferences and policies for teaching.
Obviously, these probably won't touch much of the day-to-day teaching.
Feel free to verbally shred at your leisure.
1) I'm going plan out the whole year's lesson plans for Pre AP and AP classes during the summer, so I can give my students a syllabus with a course schedule at the beginning of the year, just like they'd get in college.
2) My opening lesson each year will involve, among other things, projecting the words "TRIGGER WARNING" on whatever screen in available, so that no one can complain about anything read or written in any of my classes. People go through terrible things, and it is the writer's job to put those terrible things in full view so that society can roundly denounce them and hopefully grow out of them. And it is the duty of literature teachers to expose their students to literature for the same reason, not hide it away from them in some twisted attempt at protection from life's harsh realities.
3) Every year, we will read at least one novel or short story or poem with a whole lotta cussin'. Partially because deliberately avoiding it is limiting art (which as a writer and musician is among my top three cardinal sins), partially because it's been around since people could speak, and in some contexts is the correct word choice. We'll see if students can better remember the author's name if they know he/she isn't afraid to drop an f-bomb or two.
4) I will ban "literally" from my classroom, whether written or spoken. I don't care how many failed daily or essay grades I have to give out before it sticks. Gah.
5) Every year, we will read literature from a country, culture, or time period with different values from our current time and place. Racism, sexism, and other forms of culturally approved bigotry can't be eliminated from our culture if we deny their existence.
6) I solemnly swear that as a teacher I will NEVER leave meaningless busy-work for my students if I have to be gone for any reason. I will grade every assignment I leave for them to do, and will by the grace of God condition them to take every such assignment seriously.
Monday, April 20, 2015
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Sports
I seem unable to maintain lifelong interest in any athletic competition.
When I was a kid I followed basketball, football, and baseball.
All three began with young-me totally buying the hype about Michael Jordan, Emmett Smith, and the Atlanta Braves, and seeing them all as superheroes (a state of mind not helped by advertising).
Baseball fell off the truck first, once I realized that watching actual games isn't nearly as fun as what I played in the front yard.
Then once the Cowboys won the Superbowl I trailed off on following football.
Basketball stuck around the longest mostly due to the Dream Team and "Space Jam," but by age 13 (ironically the year I actually played school football) I was completely disinterested.
I still enjoy watching live football games (good thing, too, being in marching band), but anytime someone starts rattling off "stats" I open a book.
Sometime around my third year of college, I ran into Mixed Martial Arts.
I had never followed combat sports of any kind, even in the Olympics, but catching an interview of Randy Couture about his "return" somehow piqued my interest.
I was able to download his fight with Tim Sylvia a few days later.
...and I loved it.
Maybe because the smaller, older fighter completely dominated the younger, larger fighter for 25 minutes.
Maybe because it was a slower pace than anything I'd seen before, but even more intense.
Maybe it was the detailed commentary that allowed a novice to know exactly what was happening at all times.
Who knows. But I was hooked.
And the Internet is a great place to be hooked on MMA.
I was able to consume huge numbers of fights, interviews, training videos, etc.
I was right back into superhero-mode.
Randy Couture, Anderson Silva, Georges St.Pierre, and Lyoto Machida were the names I latched onto in those first few weeks of fandom.
Which was nice, given that three of the four were dominant champions, and the fourth won the championship unbeaten.
I was able to see every event for free the day after, and after my wife and I got married we started hosting parties in which we'd be able to see everything live on pay-per-view.
But somewhere along the way, I started to trail off again.
I stopped following everything, and only followed the UFC.
Convenient, given that the UFC at one point had bought all of the competition.
I still followed my heroes, but one by one they started to lose badly and/or retire, though it took a looooong time given Silva and GSP's respective title reigns.
I've followed the upswing in female fighters as well, and haven't seen a boring one yet, but the feeling of attachment isn't there.
Which brings me to today.
I have one "superhero" left, one fighter in whose successes and failures I am emotionally invested, and it seems like he's on the way out.
I'm fairly active in the MMA fan community, and I'll watch a fight between two to-me-unknowns if my fellow fans rave over it, but I don't anticipate fights months in advance like I used to.
I don't know if this is just the result of personal tastes changing over time, or if I just don't have the sports-oriented-male mentality.
When I was a kid I followed basketball, football, and baseball.
All three began with young-me totally buying the hype about Michael Jordan, Emmett Smith, and the Atlanta Braves, and seeing them all as superheroes (a state of mind not helped by advertising).
Baseball fell off the truck first, once I realized that watching actual games isn't nearly as fun as what I played in the front yard.
Then once the Cowboys won the Superbowl I trailed off on following football.
Basketball stuck around the longest mostly due to the Dream Team and "Space Jam," but by age 13 (ironically the year I actually played school football) I was completely disinterested.
I still enjoy watching live football games (good thing, too, being in marching band), but anytime someone starts rattling off "stats" I open a book.
Sometime around my third year of college, I ran into Mixed Martial Arts.
I had never followed combat sports of any kind, even in the Olympics, but catching an interview of Randy Couture about his "return" somehow piqued my interest.
I was able to download his fight with Tim Sylvia a few days later.
...and I loved it.
Maybe because the smaller, older fighter completely dominated the younger, larger fighter for 25 minutes.
Maybe because it was a slower pace than anything I'd seen before, but even more intense.
Maybe it was the detailed commentary that allowed a novice to know exactly what was happening at all times.
Who knows. But I was hooked.
And the Internet is a great place to be hooked on MMA.
I was able to consume huge numbers of fights, interviews, training videos, etc.
I was right back into superhero-mode.
Randy Couture, Anderson Silva, Georges St.Pierre, and Lyoto Machida were the names I latched onto in those first few weeks of fandom.
Which was nice, given that three of the four were dominant champions, and the fourth won the championship unbeaten.
I was able to see every event for free the day after, and after my wife and I got married we started hosting parties in which we'd be able to see everything live on pay-per-view.
But somewhere along the way, I started to trail off again.
I stopped following everything, and only followed the UFC.
Convenient, given that the UFC at one point had bought all of the competition.
I still followed my heroes, but one by one they started to lose badly and/or retire, though it took a looooong time given Silva and GSP's respective title reigns.
I've followed the upswing in female fighters as well, and haven't seen a boring one yet, but the feeling of attachment isn't there.
Which brings me to today.
I have one "superhero" left, one fighter in whose successes and failures I am emotionally invested, and it seems like he's on the way out.
I'm fairly active in the MMA fan community, and I'll watch a fight between two to-me-unknowns if my fellow fans rave over it, but I don't anticipate fights months in advance like I used to.
I don't know if this is just the result of personal tastes changing over time, or if I just don't have the sports-oriented-male mentality.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Family
All four of the times a close relative has died, including the first one when I was 11, I've chided myself for not having closer relationships with the rest of the family.
Each time, I've felt guilty for not having the kind of relationship with my relatives that leads to joyous Facebook posts of vacation pictures or drinking pictures or happy-family-on-Sunday pictures.
But I feel so very different and therefore separate from all of them.
I feel like my spiritual life has grown in vastly different directions, and has become more complex than the "old-time religion" that most of my relations seem tied to.
My politics is partially in direct opposition to many of them, and too complex for the rest.
I also feel like the majority of them have their lives more or less together and stabilized, and mine feels ever in flux (even with nearly six amazing years of marriage under my belt) and never where I want it to be.
Even my PERSONALITY feels incompatible. even as I continue to endeavor to be the life of the party.
Maybe it's mostly the cussing and social drinking, both of which were such massive taboos growing up that they weren't even spoken of?
I don't know.
I'm still putting on some degree of a mask whenever I'm around anyone I share genetics with.
Today, I lost my maternal grandfather, or as I called him, "Grosvater".
By far the grandparent I was closest to, and the last one to shuffle off this mortal coil.
He was one of the few people I consider to be a mentor.
I've had many role-models and many sources of encouragement, but very few people in my life have been both.
Grosvater was one of that exclusive, august body.
One of the few people I have endeavored to emulate, and by them have been encouraged and equipped to do so.
I share most of my physical traits with my mother's side of the family, and my resemblance to Grosvater was no exception.
Growing up as an introvert with a very dry sense of humor, I was enamored with his ability to pull jokes seemingly out of thin air, as well as his library of history books and literature.
Perhaps unconsciously, I gained an early interest in both history and literature, the latter of which became the center of my college education and now my profession.
To say nothing of trying to grow a more crowd-pleasing sense of humor.
Even though both of my parents are college-educated, I never noticed them using it in conversation the way Grosvater did with his Masters of Divinity degree.
It helped that he was a retired pastor, and had become accustomed long before my birth to deep conversations of a theological nature.
Which I, again perhaps unconsciously, pushed myself to enter.
Especially with my parents' encouragement to build a more intellectually sound theology for myself.
Thus on an increasing number of occasions as I grew older and more experienced, I played Plato to his Socrates.
Even in my own gradual outgrowing of much of the traditional church dogma, he was ever a source of affirmation and encouragement.
I say all this because I feel as if I've been building a self (my-self) my whole life, like a skyscraper from the ground up.
And while I can see where my parents made great choices in how they raised me, my relationships with them and with the rest of my family doesn't seem to be a major part of the skyscraper.
Except for Grosvater, whose presence like so many is not truly felt until it is replaced by absence.
As if a major pillar of the skyscraper suddenly collapsed.
The building will stand; it is solid enough to absorb the damage.
But, just to abandon the metaphor in a shockingly sudden fashion, it isn't until now that I realize that much of what I have spent my life working toward as a person was the example set by Grosvater.
Was he perfect?
No.
I found out the hard way (via making him a jazz CD) that he was prejudiced against black people.
Which shocked the CRAP out of me, having dated a black girl for nearly three years.
There are just so many parts of the person I've become which I chose to take on and grow and develop because he provided an example to follow.
I see my friends sharing wonderful experiences with their parents and cousins and siblings, and I'm honestly jealous because they don't seem to be such different people from those relatives.
I'm so thankful that my wife and I are so close-knit that there are no masks.
I just don't know how to take off the mask I put on when in the presence of relatives without completely alienating them.
Each time, I've felt guilty for not having the kind of relationship with my relatives that leads to joyous Facebook posts of vacation pictures or drinking pictures or happy-family-on-Sunday pictures.
But I feel so very different and therefore separate from all of them.
I feel like my spiritual life has grown in vastly different directions, and has become more complex than the "old-time religion" that most of my relations seem tied to.
My politics is partially in direct opposition to many of them, and too complex for the rest.
I also feel like the majority of them have their lives more or less together and stabilized, and mine feels ever in flux (even with nearly six amazing years of marriage under my belt) and never where I want it to be.
Even my PERSONALITY feels incompatible. even as I continue to endeavor to be the life of the party.
Maybe it's mostly the cussing and social drinking, both of which were such massive taboos growing up that they weren't even spoken of?
I don't know.
I'm still putting on some degree of a mask whenever I'm around anyone I share genetics with.
Today, I lost my maternal grandfather, or as I called him, "Grosvater".
By far the grandparent I was closest to, and the last one to shuffle off this mortal coil.
He was one of the few people I consider to be a mentor.
I've had many role-models and many sources of encouragement, but very few people in my life have been both.
Grosvater was one of that exclusive, august body.
One of the few people I have endeavored to emulate, and by them have been encouraged and equipped to do so.
I share most of my physical traits with my mother's side of the family, and my resemblance to Grosvater was no exception.
Growing up as an introvert with a very dry sense of humor, I was enamored with his ability to pull jokes seemingly out of thin air, as well as his library of history books and literature.
Perhaps unconsciously, I gained an early interest in both history and literature, the latter of which became the center of my college education and now my profession.
To say nothing of trying to grow a more crowd-pleasing sense of humor.
Even though both of my parents are college-educated, I never noticed them using it in conversation the way Grosvater did with his Masters of Divinity degree.
It helped that he was a retired pastor, and had become accustomed long before my birth to deep conversations of a theological nature.
Which I, again perhaps unconsciously, pushed myself to enter.
Especially with my parents' encouragement to build a more intellectually sound theology for myself.
Thus on an increasing number of occasions as I grew older and more experienced, I played Plato to his Socrates.
Even in my own gradual outgrowing of much of the traditional church dogma, he was ever a source of affirmation and encouragement.
I say all this because I feel as if I've been building a self (my-self) my whole life, like a skyscraper from the ground up.
And while I can see where my parents made great choices in how they raised me, my relationships with them and with the rest of my family doesn't seem to be a major part of the skyscraper.
Except for Grosvater, whose presence like so many is not truly felt until it is replaced by absence.
As if a major pillar of the skyscraper suddenly collapsed.
The building will stand; it is solid enough to absorb the damage.
But, just to abandon the metaphor in a shockingly sudden fashion, it isn't until now that I realize that much of what I have spent my life working toward as a person was the example set by Grosvater.
Was he perfect?
No.
I found out the hard way (via making him a jazz CD) that he was prejudiced against black people.
Which shocked the CRAP out of me, having dated a black girl for nearly three years.
There are just so many parts of the person I've become which I chose to take on and grow and develop because he provided an example to follow.
I see my friends sharing wonderful experiences with their parents and cousins and siblings, and I'm honestly jealous because they don't seem to be such different people from those relatives.
I'm so thankful that my wife and I are so close-knit that there are no masks.
I just don't know how to take off the mask I put on when in the presence of relatives without completely alienating them.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Just Write
I have heard that "there is no great art without great pain," and there are certainly thousands of examples of it across literature, music, and visual art.
Whether "great pain" translates to drug addiction, mental illness, trauma, disease, or depression, we have tons of evidence in the artists we admire that if properly channeled, can result in timeless work.
But what of the aspiring who have yet to know a "great pain"?
We are certainly in the hundreds of thousands.
Must we slave away on our projects in a hopeless dash to leave something worthwhile behind when we die?
Of course, there is plenty of good art without great pain.
We've all enjoyed music or literature or visual art from an artist who did not have his/her foundations shaken/shattered by life, and many of us have even had wonderful existential experiences with that art which has left us illuminated.
Another phrase tossed around is the ancient "Multi sunt vocati, pauci vero electi," translated "many are called, but few are chosen".
There is always the inherent risk when one becomes an artist (a calling if ever there was one) that one's art will only reach a few, or in worst cases no one else at all, while the artist slaves away at a day-job without meaning or merit.
These are the many, but "ars longa, vita brevis" (art is long, life is short), and for the artist the art sustains the soul through the endless grind, even with no audience.
At least for a little while.
But that was yesterday, when a lone musician sitting in his tiny apartment after a long day of hard labor would be filled with wonder as his fingers danced upon his instrument, heard by none.
Technology has given the truly dedicated musician, writer, or artist an endless audience for which to create.
Thus the lone scribe upon his keyboard reaches the world, the lone musician with instrument in hand and a lens in front of face, the lone artist with a digital pallet, all may reach out and find kindred spirits among the endless ocean of digital islands.
Which brings me to myself.
I have had endless opportunities these past nine months to write, to sing, to play, to IMPROVE my craft and my creations.
But I have wasted nearly all of it.
Why?
Because the same technology which provides the artist with an audience may also distract him/her into artistic doldrums in which the mind may still in some part dwell on the unfinished works, but the fingers do not apply themselves, and thus week after week, month after month the craft continues to atrophy.
The DISTRACTIONS! Oh, the distractions!
Am I truly so undisciplined after decades of training that I'm just another blank face staring at a screen?
Was I only a sharpened sword when surrounded by smiths?
Did I truly turn to rust in the instant of unsheathing on the battlefield?
Even READING, one of the few artistic constants in my life, now feels like a chore that I have to deliberately dedicate time toward on days when I have ZERO other commitments!
I have to TEAR myself away from the screen in order to accomplish anything, and it seems to require more and more effort.
And this with a desktop which requires that I sit at it.
I have no idea how much worse I would be if able to be so distracted while never even leaving my bed.
Is it because I do not truly have a daily routine?
These past months have been a massive change, going from working two jobs to working half of one (on-call only).
I keep telling myself "Today" or "This week, we'll do it differently," but the lack of an employment routine seems to sap all of the energy which should be devoted to my craft when the call doesn't come.
Apparently my mental state is manifesting itself outwardly.
On Friday, I had a high school senior ask my age, and when informed, respond with "It's okay, you're still young!"
I had no idea how to respond, and the memory leaves tears in my eyes.
Whether "great pain" translates to drug addiction, mental illness, trauma, disease, or depression, we have tons of evidence in the artists we admire that if properly channeled, can result in timeless work.
But what of the aspiring who have yet to know a "great pain"?
We are certainly in the hundreds of thousands.
Must we slave away on our projects in a hopeless dash to leave something worthwhile behind when we die?
Of course, there is plenty of good art without great pain.
We've all enjoyed music or literature or visual art from an artist who did not have his/her foundations shaken/shattered by life, and many of us have even had wonderful existential experiences with that art which has left us illuminated.
Another phrase tossed around is the ancient "Multi sunt vocati, pauci vero electi," translated "many are called, but few are chosen".
There is always the inherent risk when one becomes an artist (a calling if ever there was one) that one's art will only reach a few, or in worst cases no one else at all, while the artist slaves away at a day-job without meaning or merit.
These are the many, but "ars longa, vita brevis" (art is long, life is short), and for the artist the art sustains the soul through the endless grind, even with no audience.
At least for a little while.
But that was yesterday, when a lone musician sitting in his tiny apartment after a long day of hard labor would be filled with wonder as his fingers danced upon his instrument, heard by none.
Technology has given the truly dedicated musician, writer, or artist an endless audience for which to create.
Thus the lone scribe upon his keyboard reaches the world, the lone musician with instrument in hand and a lens in front of face, the lone artist with a digital pallet, all may reach out and find kindred spirits among the endless ocean of digital islands.
Which brings me to myself.
I have had endless opportunities these past nine months to write, to sing, to play, to IMPROVE my craft and my creations.
But I have wasted nearly all of it.
Why?
Because the same technology which provides the artist with an audience may also distract him/her into artistic doldrums in which the mind may still in some part dwell on the unfinished works, but the fingers do not apply themselves, and thus week after week, month after month the craft continues to atrophy.
The DISTRACTIONS! Oh, the distractions!
Am I truly so undisciplined after decades of training that I'm just another blank face staring at a screen?
Was I only a sharpened sword when surrounded by smiths?
Did I truly turn to rust in the instant of unsheathing on the battlefield?
Even READING, one of the few artistic constants in my life, now feels like a chore that I have to deliberately dedicate time toward on days when I have ZERO other commitments!
I have to TEAR myself away from the screen in order to accomplish anything, and it seems to require more and more effort.
And this with a desktop which requires that I sit at it.
I have no idea how much worse I would be if able to be so distracted while never even leaving my bed.
Is it because I do not truly have a daily routine?
These past months have been a massive change, going from working two jobs to working half of one (on-call only).
I keep telling myself "Today" or "This week, we'll do it differently," but the lack of an employment routine seems to sap all of the energy which should be devoted to my craft when the call doesn't come.
Apparently my mental state is manifesting itself outwardly.
On Friday, I had a high school senior ask my age, and when informed, respond with "It's okay, you're still young!"
I had no idea how to respond, and the memory leaves tears in my eyes.
Thursday, April 9, 2015
Talkin' 'Bout My Generation....and churches
Speaking as an older "millennial," Christian churches in general seem to be pushing my generation away. Across nearly the entire spectrum of Christian denominational churches, mine seems to be the first generation to refuse to just fade into the crowd.
As children we were groomed to be "the future of the church," treated as its greatest treasure, nurtured, and had so much time, money, and energy poured into us via summer camps, daycare, Bible quizzing competitions, etc. As teens, we were treated as a burgeoning evangelical arm of the church, and even MORE time, energy, and money were poured into the youth group, sending us to conferences, more summer camps, miniature theological seminaries, etc. And our Sunday School classes encouraged us to ask questions and have doubts, and gave us a place to be individually and collectively edified spiritually.
But the moment we turned eighteen? Suddenly too much of that fell away. Many churches had college Sunday School classes and/or Wednesday night meetings, but suddenly the emphasis on us as a particular group within the church was gone, and for many of us the previous enthusiasm for church began to taper off. Especially for those who weren't going to college. They were expected to stop being themselves and become "part of the church" even sooner than the rest of us.
This tapering accelerated once we finished college, and suddenly the church seemed to just expect us to fade into the woodwork. After so many years of pastors and youth leaders being our spiritual confidants and support, and being treated like spiritual snowflakes with our own unique beliefs, we hit a brick wall. Every discussion with our new "peers" (anyone in the church over 30) becomes an argument when we even hint at disagreeing with that particular church or denomination's established doctrine, with a strong emphasis by the church leadership that we should stop rocking the boat (as opposed to actually addressing our concerns, respecting that one's beliefs are the result of the whole Wesleyan Quadrilateral, NOT BRINGING POLITICS INTO IT, etc.)
My generation clings to the idea which was ground into many of us from day 1: That one's spiritual journey and growth of belief is unique to oneself.
So when we feel pressure to give up our hard-won beliefs in favor of "the traditional," and pressure to fade into the crowd instead of staying true to ourselves and where we believe God has led us, we do one of three things:
1) Fight back harder, and feel ever more isolated in what is supposed to be a spiritual family.
2) Pack up and leave for greener pastures, hoping to find a haven of ideas and free thought and free belief.
3) Abandon ship, writing church attendance off entirely and looking to our social circles or the Internet for kindred spirits.
I personally have done 1 and 2, and since we moved to the backwater where the above problems are ramped up to ludicrous degrees via the lack of diversity (race, religion, political opinion, etc.) I have been edging toward 3.
As children we were groomed to be "the future of the church," treated as its greatest treasure, nurtured, and had so much time, money, and energy poured into us via summer camps, daycare, Bible quizzing competitions, etc. As teens, we were treated as a burgeoning evangelical arm of the church, and even MORE time, energy, and money were poured into the youth group, sending us to conferences, more summer camps, miniature theological seminaries, etc. And our Sunday School classes encouraged us to ask questions and have doubts, and gave us a place to be individually and collectively edified spiritually.
But the moment we turned eighteen? Suddenly too much of that fell away. Many churches had college Sunday School classes and/or Wednesday night meetings, but suddenly the emphasis on us as a particular group within the church was gone, and for many of us the previous enthusiasm for church began to taper off. Especially for those who weren't going to college. They were expected to stop being themselves and become "part of the church" even sooner than the rest of us.
This tapering accelerated once we finished college, and suddenly the church seemed to just expect us to fade into the woodwork. After so many years of pastors and youth leaders being our spiritual confidants and support, and being treated like spiritual snowflakes with our own unique beliefs, we hit a brick wall. Every discussion with our new "peers" (anyone in the church over 30) becomes an argument when we even hint at disagreeing with that particular church or denomination's established doctrine, with a strong emphasis by the church leadership that we should stop rocking the boat (as opposed to actually addressing our concerns, respecting that one's beliefs are the result of the whole Wesleyan Quadrilateral, NOT BRINGING POLITICS INTO IT, etc.)
My generation clings to the idea which was ground into many of us from day 1: That one's spiritual journey and growth of belief is unique to oneself.
So when we feel pressure to give up our hard-won beliefs in favor of "the traditional," and pressure to fade into the crowd instead of staying true to ourselves and where we believe God has led us, we do one of three things:
1) Fight back harder, and feel ever more isolated in what is supposed to be a spiritual family.
2) Pack up and leave for greener pastures, hoping to find a haven of ideas and free thought and free belief.
3) Abandon ship, writing church attendance off entirely and looking to our social circles or the Internet for kindred spirits.
I personally have done 1 and 2, and since we moved to the backwater where the above problems are ramped up to ludicrous degrees via the lack of diversity (race, religion, political opinion, etc.) I have been edging toward 3.
Middle School Subbing Thoughts of the Day
1) Having a movie day isn't as fun when the TV is on the teacher's desk.
2) I wonder if lesbian couples in public schools are able to fly under the PDA-radar, since it was apparently based on the archaic belief that any physical contact between males and females is harmful. I doubt most teachers would bat an eye at two girls walking or sitting hand in hand or with an arm around each other.
3) Middle schoolers seriously can't handle silence.
4) It's hard to get motivated to crack down on students talking in class when their only "assignment" is to stare at another screen.
5) Dear schools: Why would you EVER equip a public school classroom with computers with built-in WEBCAMS?
6) It's amazing how difficult middle schoolers apparently find it to stare at a screen for fifty minutes, given that they're doing exactly that for most of their free time.
7) So apparently, 8th grade is indeed that critical year when the changeover from obnoxious, must-stay-distracted child to more deeply distracted, less obnoxious teenager occurs.
8) Today I had a roomful of 8th graders snicker when the movie uttered the phrase "you might get lucky". Some things never change.
9) The social phenomenon of "Mr. [name] is my father" does not so much demonstrate the death of the nuclear family identity as it does the true state of the cult of individualism. The very same social conservatives who bemoan it as the former are fervent acolytes of the latter.
10) A classroom without its own thermostat is a blast-furnace waiting to happen.
11) Nothing, NOTHING freaks out a sub like the principal and on-duty police officer showing up at your classroom. Especially when the kid they're looking for is the one kid who didn't say "here" when you called roll, and is apparently a flight risk.
12) It's sad that my first viewing of a Robing Williams movie since his death is one surrounded by middle schoolers.
13) I find it fascinating that so many of my generation seem to be taking special care to endeavor to not blend in with the crowd, to be a generation of unique persons with unique spiritual and political beliefs, even as so many fall instep with the millions of mundane workers who slave away daily for a pittance.
14) It seems easier to get adults to slave away, to stop caring about their own dreams and goals in life, once they've procreated and suddenly focus on the child's dreams and goals in life.
15) Weird kid names of the day: Opollo and Ozabeth.
16) I had a 6th grader pointing out every single reference to other movies in the movie, in such a deadpan voice that all I could do was laugh.
17) Student quote of the day:
[after three boys are pulled out for tutorting] "All the clowns are gone. You can be at peace now."
18) Seems like I can't get through a day of subbing without picking up at least one new stain.
19) Dear teachers: If your school has multiple lunch periods, TELL YOUR SUB WHICH ONE YOU'RE ON!
20) Dear schools: A tub of Germex is NOT a sufficient replacement for soap and running water. I don't care how many germs it kills, I'm not eating with it on my hands!
21) Sun Chips for lunch on a subbing day means you spend the first two hours after lunch trying to get your throat cleared.
22) Dear schools: Build a nap room for your teachers' planning periods. And put a margarita machine in the lounge. And equip every adult in the building with a tranquilizer pistol.
23) I'm not sure why, but across thirteen grades of public school, I've had universally better experiences with female students than with males.
24) "Cultural bias" seems to have disappeared from our vernacular, with so much emphasis put on "not seeing race," and less and less on actually solving racial inequality. To say nothing of the MASSIVE cultural bias toward "Americanism".
25) I keep telling myself, "Don't compare your beginning to someone else's middle," but it feels like I'm not even on the beginning yet.
26) Apparently "Melvin" is coming back in style for kid names.
27) Every time I hear an elevator ding on a movie, the words "SYSTEM PURGE" flash across my eyes.
28) I think one of the last vestiges of my childhood introversion plays out as stuttering when dealing with authority figures. I'm apparently okay with strangers, as long as there no preset pecking order. But people "over" me, even for just the day, are apparently beyond my cultivated "life of the party" abilities.
29) I've gained some interesting experiences subbing this year, but I still feel kind of guilty for not applying at Wal-Mart.
30) The more males in a middle school class, the more stress the class overall will create in a teacher.
31) It's difficult to ascribe any particular qualities to one's surname (i.e., generosity, courage, pride) when the world is large enough to contain millions of people who have it.
32) I need a job in which I can really practice public speaking. I'm out of practice.
33) From grade 8 down to kindergarten, the last class of the day is the worst class of the day.
34) I'm amazed that people who don't move faster when they see a car coming have continued to maintain a presence in the gene pool.
35) I'm seriously thinking that the only reason the stereotype of "all men want sons" has continued to survive in this part of the developed world is because teaching is still a mostly-female profession. I still don't want kids, but every time I sub, the child-gender-preference pendulum swings harder toward FEMALE.
36) It seems like everyone with a career has at least one partially existential reason for choosing it or maintaining it. A teacher might love the look in the eyes of fascinated students. A soldier might find himself moved by the change to serve his country. An athlete might become addicted to the fire in the belly lit by competition. A musician experiences a spiritual connection to her audience via hard-fought performances.
Meanwhile, people who instead have jobs speak of them in terms of having landed on them by accident, or if it's a hated job in terms of cruel circumstances.
2) I wonder if lesbian couples in public schools are able to fly under the PDA-radar, since it was apparently based on the archaic belief that any physical contact between males and females is harmful. I doubt most teachers would bat an eye at two girls walking or sitting hand in hand or with an arm around each other.
3) Middle schoolers seriously can't handle silence.
4) It's hard to get motivated to crack down on students talking in class when their only "assignment" is to stare at another screen.
5) Dear schools: Why would you EVER equip a public school classroom with computers with built-in WEBCAMS?
6) It's amazing how difficult middle schoolers apparently find it to stare at a screen for fifty minutes, given that they're doing exactly that for most of their free time.
7) So apparently, 8th grade is indeed that critical year when the changeover from obnoxious, must-stay-distracted child to more deeply distracted, less obnoxious teenager occurs.
8) Today I had a roomful of 8th graders snicker when the movie uttered the phrase "you might get lucky". Some things never change.
9) The social phenomenon of "Mr. [name] is my father" does not so much demonstrate the death of the nuclear family identity as it does the true state of the cult of individualism. The very same social conservatives who bemoan it as the former are fervent acolytes of the latter.
10) A classroom without its own thermostat is a blast-furnace waiting to happen.
11) Nothing, NOTHING freaks out a sub like the principal and on-duty police officer showing up at your classroom. Especially when the kid they're looking for is the one kid who didn't say "here" when you called roll, and is apparently a flight risk.
12) It's sad that my first viewing of a Robing Williams movie since his death is one surrounded by middle schoolers.
13) I find it fascinating that so many of my generation seem to be taking special care to endeavor to not blend in with the crowd, to be a generation of unique persons with unique spiritual and political beliefs, even as so many fall instep with the millions of mundane workers who slave away daily for a pittance.
14) It seems easier to get adults to slave away, to stop caring about their own dreams and goals in life, once they've procreated and suddenly focus on the child's dreams and goals in life.
15) Weird kid names of the day: Opollo and Ozabeth.
16) I had a 6th grader pointing out every single reference to other movies in the movie, in such a deadpan voice that all I could do was laugh.
17) Student quote of the day:
[after three boys are pulled out for tutorting] "All the clowns are gone. You can be at peace now."
18) Seems like I can't get through a day of subbing without picking up at least one new stain.
19) Dear teachers: If your school has multiple lunch periods, TELL YOUR SUB WHICH ONE YOU'RE ON!
20) Dear schools: A tub of Germex is NOT a sufficient replacement for soap and running water. I don't care how many germs it kills, I'm not eating with it on my hands!
21) Sun Chips for lunch on a subbing day means you spend the first two hours after lunch trying to get your throat cleared.
22) Dear schools: Build a nap room for your teachers' planning periods. And put a margarita machine in the lounge. And equip every adult in the building with a tranquilizer pistol.
23) I'm not sure why, but across thirteen grades of public school, I've had universally better experiences with female students than with males.
24) "Cultural bias" seems to have disappeared from our vernacular, with so much emphasis put on "not seeing race," and less and less on actually solving racial inequality. To say nothing of the MASSIVE cultural bias toward "Americanism".
25) I keep telling myself, "Don't compare your beginning to someone else's middle," but it feels like I'm not even on the beginning yet.
26) Apparently "Melvin" is coming back in style for kid names.
27) Every time I hear an elevator ding on a movie, the words "SYSTEM PURGE" flash across my eyes.
28) I think one of the last vestiges of my childhood introversion plays out as stuttering when dealing with authority figures. I'm apparently okay with strangers, as long as there no preset pecking order. But people "over" me, even for just the day, are apparently beyond my cultivated "life of the party" abilities.
29) I've gained some interesting experiences subbing this year, but I still feel kind of guilty for not applying at Wal-Mart.
30) The more males in a middle school class, the more stress the class overall will create in a teacher.
31) It's difficult to ascribe any particular qualities to one's surname (i.e., generosity, courage, pride) when the world is large enough to contain millions of people who have it.
32) I need a job in which I can really practice public speaking. I'm out of practice.
33) From grade 8 down to kindergarten, the last class of the day is the worst class of the day.
34) I'm amazed that people who don't move faster when they see a car coming have continued to maintain a presence in the gene pool.
35) I'm seriously thinking that the only reason the stereotype of "all men want sons" has continued to survive in this part of the developed world is because teaching is still a mostly-female profession. I still don't want kids, but every time I sub, the child-gender-preference pendulum swings harder toward FEMALE.
36) It seems like everyone with a career has at least one partially existential reason for choosing it or maintaining it. A teacher might love the look in the eyes of fascinated students. A soldier might find himself moved by the change to serve his country. An athlete might become addicted to the fire in the belly lit by competition. A musician experiences a spiritual connection to her audience via hard-fought performances.
Meanwhile, people who instead have jobs speak of them in terms of having landed on them by accident, or if it's a hated job in terms of cruel circumstances.
Thursday, April 2, 2015
High School Subbing Thoughts of the Day
1) It's really sad to be surrounded by teenagers while you have a song too old/obscure for them to know stuck in your head.
2) I think a big reason I've enjoyed working with highschoolers is that I don't have to sugarcoat anything. This may be a condition limited to small-town high school kids, but it's still nice.
3) I'm not sure what to think when I hear psychologists define "Millennials" as "those adults who came of age after the year 2000". Partially because I'm lumped in with the term as an 18 year-old in 2003, and partially because it seems like nobody nowadays can agree on what "coming of age" even means anymore.
4) A clean teacher's desk means OCD, complete digitization, or complete apathy.
5) It's fascinating watching teens self-regulate when left to their own devices. Especially devices with Internet access.
6) Apparently this year's senior class at Miami High School has chosen "Challenge accepted" for its class motto.
7) It's nice to have a student apologize for repeatedly asking to leave the classroom.
8) I wonder if feeling like I haven't matured very much since high school makes me more qualified to teach it, or less so.
9) I think I want to teach high school or college so I won't have to dumb down my vocabulary.
10) A big issue I have with older teens is their apparent addictions to coffee and screens and earbuds. For introverts these last two are blessed relief compared to days gone by, a way to escape from the crowd around them and into a crowd of their choosing, but for everyone else the combination stunts the growth of the normal attention span.
11) Remember when BOOKS were the introvert's escape hatch rather than screens?
12) New situation to deal with: student PDA. From a couple finished with the day's assigned work and not distracting anyone who is actually facing forward in their seat.
13) Weird student t-shirt of the day: "God belongs in my city."
14) I continue to be fascinated by the visibility of high school stereotypes.
15) Being able to read a name aloud, look around the room to see the face of the student, and remembering name, face, and the association between them is collectively a level of teacher multitasking I have yet to achieve.
16) The hunger pang which is not merely thirst, and thus cannot be satisfied by liquid, is far deeper and more grinding than its shallow, flighty cousin.
17) It's been awhile since I saw a teen with a full beard.
18) I keep getting calls for teachers who have already been absent multiple times. It's getting really weird to have kids walk in and say "ANOTHER SUB?!"
19) You know a scene in a novel is beautifully written when it leaves you close to joyous, ecstatic, mournful, nostalgic tears in a room full of dozing, typing, chatting teenagers.
20) Whenever I read a well-crafted character description, the image is firm and concrete in my mind, at least in the moment of description. But afterward, as the character moves through the story, my vision of their physical person becomes hazy. I see their actions and hear dialogue and feel the settings clearly as ever, but their face or hair or any other physical feature not currently involved in the narration becomes vague and undefined.
21) It's difficult to focus on eating healthy when you're around teenagers who are constantly TALKING ABOUT FAST FOOD.
22) Beautiful moment: teens singing 90s rock songs in a reverent manner.
23) Always nice to see a big jock speak like a physics nerd.
24) You never really feel inflation until you bring a single dollar bill to a coke machine.
25) Everyone needs a point of focus for the mind and the heart. A select few have a single focus for both. An even more select few have it as their source of income.
26) It's either great or bad for my self-esteem that in my 30th year of life, I can still be mistaken for a well-dressed high school student.
27) We've gone from "YOU KIDS TURN THAT MUSIC DOWN!" to "TAKE OFF THOSE EARBUDS AND PAY ATTENTION!"
28) Other women become more or less attractive over time or when you don't see them for awhile but keep thinking about them. Your wife is more and better in reality than you could ever dream her of being.
29) Best thing about subbing high school? Plenty of time to think.
2) I think a big reason I've enjoyed working with highschoolers is that I don't have to sugarcoat anything. This may be a condition limited to small-town high school kids, but it's still nice.
3) I'm not sure what to think when I hear psychologists define "Millennials" as "those adults who came of age after the year 2000". Partially because I'm lumped in with the term as an 18 year-old in 2003, and partially because it seems like nobody nowadays can agree on what "coming of age" even means anymore.
4) A clean teacher's desk means OCD, complete digitization, or complete apathy.
5) It's fascinating watching teens self-regulate when left to their own devices. Especially devices with Internet access.
6) Apparently this year's senior class at Miami High School has chosen "Challenge accepted" for its class motto.
7) It's nice to have a student apologize for repeatedly asking to leave the classroom.
8) I wonder if feeling like I haven't matured very much since high school makes me more qualified to teach it, or less so.
9) I think I want to teach high school or college so I won't have to dumb down my vocabulary.
10) A big issue I have with older teens is their apparent addictions to coffee and screens and earbuds. For introverts these last two are blessed relief compared to days gone by, a way to escape from the crowd around them and into a crowd of their choosing, but for everyone else the combination stunts the growth of the normal attention span.
11) Remember when BOOKS were the introvert's escape hatch rather than screens?
12) New situation to deal with: student PDA. From a couple finished with the day's assigned work and not distracting anyone who is actually facing forward in their seat.
13) Weird student t-shirt of the day: "God belongs in my city."
14) I continue to be fascinated by the visibility of high school stereotypes.
15) Being able to read a name aloud, look around the room to see the face of the student, and remembering name, face, and the association between them is collectively a level of teacher multitasking I have yet to achieve.
16) The hunger pang which is not merely thirst, and thus cannot be satisfied by liquid, is far deeper and more grinding than its shallow, flighty cousin.
17) It's been awhile since I saw a teen with a full beard.
18) I keep getting calls for teachers who have already been absent multiple times. It's getting really weird to have kids walk in and say "ANOTHER SUB?!"
19) You know a scene in a novel is beautifully written when it leaves you close to joyous, ecstatic, mournful, nostalgic tears in a room full of dozing, typing, chatting teenagers.
20) Whenever I read a well-crafted character description, the image is firm and concrete in my mind, at least in the moment of description. But afterward, as the character moves through the story, my vision of their physical person becomes hazy. I see their actions and hear dialogue and feel the settings clearly as ever, but their face or hair or any other physical feature not currently involved in the narration becomes vague and undefined.
21) It's difficult to focus on eating healthy when you're around teenagers who are constantly TALKING ABOUT FAST FOOD.
22) Beautiful moment: teens singing 90s rock songs in a reverent manner.
23) Always nice to see a big jock speak like a physics nerd.
24) You never really feel inflation until you bring a single dollar bill to a coke machine.
25) Everyone needs a point of focus for the mind and the heart. A select few have a single focus for both. An even more select few have it as their source of income.
26) It's either great or bad for my self-esteem that in my 30th year of life, I can still be mistaken for a well-dressed high school student.
27) We've gone from "YOU KIDS TURN THAT MUSIC DOWN!" to "TAKE OFF THOSE EARBUDS AND PAY ATTENTION!"
28) Other women become more or less attractive over time or when you don't see them for awhile but keep thinking about them. Your wife is more and better in reality than you could ever dream her of being.
29) Best thing about subbing high school? Plenty of time to think.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
