Scenes from H Period

On Thursday, students in my last class of the day were begging me to "do the dance you do! Do the dance! It's like this!" They did some strange version of Beyonce's "Single Ladies" march. I was dumbfounded.

"I don't dance in class! That would be so inappropriate!"

Thursday night, as I was explaining something to my roommate, with growing animation, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window and saw the dance. I dance to make a point. I apologized to those seventh-graders on Friday, partly for not owning up to dancing, partly for acting unprofessional by my very own definition. I said I could in no way guarantee that a relapse would not occur.

I laugh and laugh in that class. I try so hard to be serious, even giving detentions and subtracting points. It's probably unfair, when I cannot seem to keep myself under control.

Friday, I sat down at a desk during silent reading. The student next to me, I mean it, just his breathing made me laugh and I had to move.

During silent reading, with some regularity, I look up to find Adam doing something other than reading. I fix my glare on him. He shoots back a funny glare, and I realize I'm disarmed. I almost laugh and disrupt the class myself.

Adam: 1

McKalips: 0

Unlike Odysseus, I Know When to Give Up

In ninth grade English, we read portions of The Odyssey. Today we were in Book 10, where Odysseus meets Circe, who has just turned his men to swine. But Odysseus was made immune by the god Hermes, at Zeus' request. Since her first plan did not work, Circe attempts to ensnare Odysseus (presumably) by making love to him. 

After Odysseus makes her promise that she'll do no more witch's tricks, he goes to bed with her.

At this, my class was outraged! 

Student 1: "Again!?" 

Student 2: "This guy!" 

Student 3: "Isn't he still married!?" 

Richard (the one and only): "Did they at least use protection on this island?"

Greg: "Yeah, that's what the Trojan War was all about."

Class. Over.

Asking Better Questions

In the teaching ESL class I took this month, we watched a video from the late 1970s about Mexican-American acculturation in southern California. They were experiencing all the racism, poverty, and loss of identity that comes with immigration. The most striking part of the video was when the interviewer asked some of the Mexican-American high school drop-outs, "what do you want to be when you grow up?" This is a familiar question, and it seems to me that it is really asking, "how will you make money when you are old enough to do so?" It's a good question for an individualistic, transitory, capitalistic society to ask of its members. But the teens in the video, who come from a communal, stationary society just stared blankly into the distance, and responded with a nervous chuckle, "I don't know."

I wish the interviewer had gone on to clarify, "You mean you don't dream of anything happening in your life?" Then it would have been clearer if they merely didn't know how they would earn money, or if they had not been encouraged to dream about their futures, and to picture life differently. The tragedy would be if they had not been given the power to view themselves as agents for change and betterment in the world. That possibility was heart-breaking, and everyone in my class felt it.

I recently attended a party of about 25 bright, enthusiastic young people. They are certainly exceptions to many rules. They carry the hope of Christ in their hearts. They walk with confidence wherever they go. They change the world by listening to God and people. If you ask them what they want to be when they grow up, they might also stare at you blankly for a bit. They are entrenched in that very battle of deciding how they will earn their bread. For them, too, the question doesn't have a more inspirational answer than a stare into the distance, and a faint, "I don't know." But, if we change the question a bit, and begin with "what do you want in life?" or "what are your hopes for the future?" we will get to the heart of the matter.

Here are a few of their responses:

• I want to be a father to children, and not just in the biological sense, especially for boys.
• I want to teach, and help build a community.
• I want adventure, love (maybe getting married, but maybe not), and wisdom (because I love to read books).
• I want to do everything, go everywhere, and meet everyone.
• I want to serve. I like where I am right now.
• I want to do one of the following before I die: star in a show, or start a camp for troubled youth, or...
• I want to write a novel, like War and Peace, that follows a person through all of life.
• I want to have a family, and have an outlet for adventure.
• I want to adopt four boys.
• I want to do something that matters, that no one ever gives me credit for.
• I want to have the ability to go off on thinking tangents for as long as I like.
• I want to play Encore all together with my giant family.
• I want to live outside of the ordinary.
• I want to know people and encourage them to know God better.

I'm far more satisfied with these answers than with those I gave as a child, "nurse, vet, waitress [ahem, little Carolyn, you mean 'server']."

Possibilities for my Anabaptist research paper:

• Prayer practices in Hutterite/Bruderhof communities

• Anabaptist eschatology (beliefs about the end times)

• the Brethren in Christ holiness movement

• Jubilee practices in today's Mennonite/BIC churches

Care to weigh in?

Update: I'm writing about peace-making in Russia. I know, it wasn't quite fair to ignore all the options and go with door #5.
All this is happening because I work at an Anabaptist high school, and needed to take a seminar called Understanding Roots of Community in Anabaptism. It's nice to be on the paper-writing end instead of the grading end. Relaxing, you know?

As a Teacher...

Ha! I am not used to the title, and I might as well be honest about it. It is mighty fun to be in the classroom, though, finally learning the details that escaped me as a student teacher. I am struggling now with myriad questions, the theme of which is how I am perceived by my students.

• How much of my life is appropriate to cast abroad? (Like this post, for instance... Do I need to de-personalize my writing? Am I even capable of such a thing?)
• Do all students notice when a teacher begins to repeat her wardrobe? (This has already begun, of course, since it's been over a week.)
• How much should I care about how I am perceived? (Not at all? I've seen that be really, really good, and I've seen that be sad and pathetic.)
• How do I "come off as strict" only in the beginning of the school year? Am I strict? (I sincerely hope so. I think that strictness provides structure for people to count on, and makes school a safer place. Even if my students don't like me, I hope they know they can trust me.)
• Do I talk too fast? (Usually. Why would the classroom be any different?)
• Do I know enough? (No. I don't even know what I don't know.)

As much as I struggle to find something useful to say as I stand up in front of a group of young people, I feel favor as I do so. I feel an energy come over me. So far, so good.

Book Report

I looked in the mirror.

I looked at my paper.

And back in the mirror,

and down at my shoes.

I remembered my mommy

and all that she'd told me.

And my teacher, Miss Holly,

the way that she scolds me:

Eye contact. Posture. My

FINAL GRADE!

I wish I had read about

the British Light Brigade...

Here goes, Miss Holly, I plod to the front:

"I chose a book about Billy the Kid,

How he robbed the stage coaches,

And if I were him--

I'd overtake the whole West, those lawless red roaches! I'd overtake saloons and gun-sling til I got all the gold and the frills from the drinkers and girls. Then I'd sit at the piano and sing about the sea til the sun began setting, my cue to leave. And I'd hop on six horses and ride away easy, on into the sunset, my kingdom at peace."

-Miss McKalips

When You Don't Have a Coin to Flip

In class today, we were deciding on speech topics. Mrs. A called on Jim to choose his topic. The pressure was on. He had been deciding between two topic possibilities when it came to be his turn. He cast about for something like a coin to toss. He looked first at his literature book, and decided against it. We were all waiting. His gaze fell upon his binder. That would do. He made note aloud that the backside up would be topic number four and hurriedly tossed it in the air. It fell to the ground with a clatter, papers everywhere, inside out. Neither front nor back was facing up, and we all stared at the binder's scattered insides.

"Uh... Number 6," Jim replied, ending our suspense, "I should have flipped your laptop, Miss McKalips."

Consequences

What do you expect to happen because you didn't read the assignment?

Do you think that because you didn't read we will:

forgo the discussion and instead look out the window?

have a naptime?

create fingerprint art?

have impromptu comic book character comparison time? (Well, I'll consider it.)

I'll tell you what is going to happen. We will have something I will call discussion, but really:

I'll ask a question,

you'll avoid my gaze,

I'll call on you anyway,

you'll look sheepish, stunned, frightened, ashamed, angry, disappointed (or all of these in succession)

with either me or yourself,

then I will wait for you to mumble something,

and the discussion will drag on

until we all want to gouge our eyes out,

for a change of scenery.

I will then institute daily quizzes.

(Which will daily involve inventing, typing, copying, cutting, passing out, collecting, scoring, entering scores, re-passing out, discussing why you can't have half a point)

And when I ask Jim's daughter's name from chapter 23 in Huckleberry Finn, I will still get all the following:

Tory

Sally
Mary
Jima
Jameka
Grace
Ophelia
Emily

...except 'Lizabeth.

Student Teaching, Week Seven

When I look back over the week, I don't see any increase in my responsibilities. I taught less, planned less, did less in the classroom, actually. But why am I feeling so tired right now?

Next week, I'll be teaching Huckleberry Finn in the two college prep classes, and also implementing my own unit plan for nonfiction in my tech prep class.

Some things that I find intimidating about this:

• My computer isn't adapting well to the smartboard. (But we have a smartboard! So awesome.)
• I haven't yet finished lesson plans for the first two days of the nonfiction unit
• I constantly feel as though I am gypping the students out of what's best for them when I'm teaching.
• I wonder how they will react to my personal ideas
• I wonder how my cooperating teacher will react to my personal ideas
• Do I have enough of my own ideas in the unit?
• I wonder if I will be able to forgive myself for all the mistakes I make during the day when I get into the car and drive away
• What if we have extra time in class?
• What if I miss important information for their lives? (Or worse, the PSSA test...hah.)
• Staying organized enough to pull off a couple weeks teaching a full load
• Job applications--yeah, 'bout those.

There we have it folks, the things that go through my mind before I sleep, as I'm driving, while I'm planning, while I'm not planning, while I walk to work, while I get another round for table 55, while I clean out the pickle fridge... And this is the abridged list, I'm afraid.

But the good news is (there should be one line of good news, at least), this afternoon, when I came home, flowers were on our porch. They were for someone else, but we got to keep them, since they had the wrong address!

The actual bad news is that this is the week that Japan was all but destroyed by a tsunami. God, forgive my skewed perspective. Today, I feel for my brothers and sisters in Japan.

Student Teaching, Week Six

The free writes I gave this week were not really freeing. I gave a prompt that read, "what was the TV show you couldn't get enough of as a kid? Why was it so intriguing?" By the second period's papers, I had read a lot about the Rugrats. I realized that I should never assign a writing prompt for which I cannot anticipate a wide variation in response--unless I want to stab myself in the fork with my eye.

I took Airborne almost every day this week, from having a sore throat. Talk more, sleep less, go to a high school, and this is bound to happen to you, too.

I have very patient roommates: Washing dishes? Wait, what? I thought we had a little robot maid that just did that while we were away? No, I haven't actually seen her, but... Well, then, who's been...? Ooooh. Thanks, guys.

I really love to listen to TobyMac on my way to school, and Beggar Folk on my way home. Immediately after school, I feel my brain throbbing against my skull. All the thoughts of the day rush in together: Huckleberry Finn, the five-paragraph essay, literary devices, passive voice, job applications, research papers, the CIRQL project¡ai!¡benditoSenor!¿cuándoseterminaestesemestre!? El Cinco de Mayo. Gloria a Dios.

A Schoolday in Winter

It is hard to think of the sunrise

over the snow, pink and red, and then

everywhere! Unleashed!

The heat in the car finally kicking in

and warming my toes--

all as the sun rose!

It is hard to even think of reasons to live

when you're sitting in a 10th grade

health class, and they're copying from

their books,

and you're "observing,"

and you've forgotten your "essential paperwork,"

read "Mark Twain."

Educatin' and Mackin'

I have begun my field experience through my education class. I get to spend time in a REAL middle school in Lancaster, with REAL teachers and REAL students. The thing is, I'm paired with the school librarian. She is a wonderful person, truly. But her time with students does not overlap much when I am there. Also, I do not want to be a librarian. Not at all. I dig the Dewey decimal system and all. I dig books. But I have never been on good terms with large-scale research or large amounts of paperwork. Not surprisingly, Research + Paperwork = Being a Librarian.

This experience taught me a few things already, though. Teaching does not solely involve students. It comes with other teachers, too. And teachers all have opinions. All of 'em.

In other news, last night I was preparing to close around 8:30 at the deli. A guy came in who had called in his order, which was not ready at the time he paid. Assuming Gary would bring out the completed order when it was finished, I resumed sweeping in the dining room. Soon, the customer and I struck up a conversation. We talked for several minutes, 'til I had finished sweeping the entire room... Still no food. I thought maybe it was time to check on it. The order had been ready since (Gary claims) "just after the guy arrived." Mortified, I handed the guy his order with a smile, "it just came up!" ...Gary was sure that I would have checked for the order already, so he had assumed I was just "mackin', looking for a Valentine's date." No. No I was not.