28.5 inches of snow
It’s a beautiful thing. The entire city was blanketed with thick, fluffy white snow. In the days before the snow turns to gray slush, I can barely contain myself as I walk down the sidewalk. You’ll usually find me walking just to the side of the cleared paths – I prefer the crunching sound of walking on snow. Instead of running for the nearest hill or making snow angels in the backyard, Erika and I made our way to the neighborhood playground and had us some snow fun. The pictures speak for themselves, and snow days on a playground come highly recommended. Climbing up and sliding down play things is just more fun when they’re covered in snow.
Exhibit A
- Jeff
Inclement weather
We had all given up hope. It seemed as if the largest snow storm in Philadelphia’s history just wasn’t enough to get us out of school. A house full of manic depressed teachers is really no fun – especially after being stuck inside all weekend.
And then.
It’s the second snow day of the year, and it came at just the right time. There were echoes of cheers and shouts throughout the house and I had the pleasure of calling some of my closest friends to give the good news. There’s really nothing better than making those calls. It’s actually the highlight of the whole experience. Now, I rest.
- Jeff
To do
I hear the word reform a lot in education. It’s used constantly, and I’m getting kind of tired of it. I just looked it up in the dictionary (not a real dictionary – who does anymore?) and apparently reform is just “making change in something in order to improve it.” So now I understand why I’ve been so annoyed – it’s not that I hate the word reform, it’s that I hate how people use it. Reform is subjective – and yet it’s used objectively by those who tout reform as if their reform (their changes) will result in an improvement. I realize this is actually quite simple, but its a bit of an a-ha moment for me. What is an improvement to one party is a digression to another. Or sometimes worse – things don’t actually change at all.
With my new understanding of reform, I’m ready to propose some reforms of my own. And they have nothing to do with NCLB or charter school management or school finance. Call them “micro-reforms,” these are the changes that I want to make at my school by year’s end:
1. Implement a sexual education workshop series for middle school students to learn about puberty, reproductive health, decision making and teen pregnancy
2. Provide a professional development seminar for teachers and staff dedicated to issues about confronting issues of sexual orientation in the classroom, and how to support LGBT students and their families
3. Create a voluntary school-wide incentive and consequence program that teachers use in their classrooms, so students have consistent enforcement of rules and consequences throughout the school day (to start next year)
4. Allow female students to wear a variety of school uniform bottoms, including pants, slacks or skirts (currently, girls can only wear skirts to school)
And I’ll admit it – these are the ways I think I can improve my school. They won’t necessarily improve it, and not everyone will think they are needed or even good. I’m not fooling myself by thinking that my ideas of reform are the best. But I will say that sometimes change (for the better or worse) can be better than staying the course because when you change things, you at least know things might get better. I think that’s what it means to have hope. And with that in mind, reform takes on a whole new meaning.
- Jeff
Don’t ask, I’ll tell
“But I’m gay,” I’d said. The man on the other end of the line was silent, grunted and thanked me for my time. Thrown a bit by my comment, I think he wasn’t sure what to say or do next. He hadn’t asked, after all. But I wasn’t about to be recruited by the army without some give and take. I wanted it to sting, so I came out and said it.
In my senior year of high school, I was forced to sign up for the selective service system (you know, in case there’s a draft). Ever since, I started getting these types of recruitment calls at home every now and then. It’s federal law for young men to sign up without 30 days of their 18th birthday. And once you’re in the system, you’re in the system. At first, it was almost flattering – “you want me?” But then it was just annoying. There was no way in hell I was enlisting in the military, and I was going through an anti-Bush war phase.
I was out by the time, and it just pissed me off that these guys kept calling me. “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” as much of a compromise as it maybe was in 1993, looked like discrimination and bigotry in 2008. But there was a strange comfort in knowing that, if there was a draft, I was safe. You can’t mistake me for straight. A quick Google search would provide enough evidence for my dishonorable discharge trial. And so, in a strange way, I’m kind of feeling nonchalant about the current reform being touted by Obama and his Joint Chiefs of Staff. Even Collin Powell, who forged the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy, is calling for its repeal. I mean, I want it gone – don’t get me wrong. I think it’s a disgrace and a real threat to our national security. But in some way, I was relieved by its existence. There was something about being excluded from war that felt ok to me. I know that equality, if real, must be for the good and bad. For the weddings and the wars.
It means, if there is a draft, I’ll be eligible. I mean, can you imagine me? A soldier? Ha. My sexual orientation isn’t what they should reject me for. There so, so, so many other reasons.
- Jeff
One of those days
In the magical world that is my school, things aren’t always rainbows and unicorns. There are days, like today, when I shutter to imagine life at some of the schools where my friends and roommates work. The constant interruptions, talking and glaring apathy – these are the banes of my classroom. In comparison to the violent outbursts and biting rhetoric of other students, my classroom management problems are often low-key. Today was different. And by that logic, I guess today was high-key.
It started out innocent enough. My principal had requested a lesson about Haiti, its history and the current challenges it faces in the wake of this month’s earthquake. I obliged, and put together something pretty good, I thought. From the looks of the kids in my audience, you would think I was forcing them to re-learn the alphabet. Bored and disengaged, they fought with me constantly. They seemed to feel entitled to an easy day, as if Fridays were just thrown in for good measure. And it just got worse, and worse and worse. Until my homeroom returned at the end of the day.
There was an assembly downstairs, and so their usual elective was cancelled and replaced with homeroom. To them, it was free time. For me, it was time to learn. Am I stubborn? Perhaps. But I wasn’t going to give slack to a class that hadn’t earned it. In times like these, I wrestle with a feeling pettiness, wondering if my application of consequences to one class or student is really warranted or not. It can come down to just a few kids – the difference between my tolerance of disruptions and a complete meltdown. And this was a meltdown. It got to the point that I could barely finish a sentence without someone laughing or shouting. I paused. Remained calm. And went for help. Now, this isn’t my usual response, but I was tired and it was Friday. After the lecture by my principal, the detention list was finalized, and I just sat down at my desk and stopped teaching, well aware of the fact that they were no longer learning.
Days like this don’t come often (I’m thankful for this), but they hold value in at least making clear my limits. And I hope, rather than seem like I gave up on them, my students realize I expect more and won’t settle for less. Most likely they’ll completely have forgotten by Monday. I’m sure it was to them, as it was to me, just one of those days.
- Jeff
Quote of the day
I was talking about Haiti with some of my students, and played the Help Haiti Now CD. Beyonce came on, singing a rendition of Halo. Keela, out of nowhere, says,
“My mom told me Beyonce and Jay-Z worship the devil so I can’t listen to their music. But I still really like how she dresses.”
And you just have to kind of stare for a second and, despite the strong inclination to intervene, you continue on with your day.
- Jeff
Redemption
These were waiting for me as I walked into the house today.
In response to my consumer complaints, I got what I asked for – a $15 refund from United for losing my bag and $7 worth of vouchers to buy new Jolly Ranchers. Sometimes, asking nicely for what you deserve can pay off.
- Jeff
Awards & honors
Congratulations are in order. I found this on my desk at the end of a long, hard day. And I didn’t even know I was nominated. Despite its lack of objectiveness and legitimacy, that it’s written on scratch paper horizontally and my name is spelled wrong, I’m considering listing it on my resume. Someone might believe it. She apparently does.
It’s strange how sentimental things like this can make my day. Too easy to please? Maybe. But if your looking to cheer me up, take a cue from Jazmine.
- Jeff
Listen up
As a history teacher, I’m always telling my kids about the importance of using primary sources in their learning. And when I teach about them, I usually reference things like diaries, photos and documents as places to look for information about the past. In my slavery unit this past month, I taught about the experience of slaves on Southern plantations using interviews of former slaves that were taped and transcribed for the Federal Writer’s Project in the 1930’s. They are amazing resources for my students to get insight into the daily lives of these important historical figures, but this type of rich and (practically) unfiltered primary source is rare.
During one of these lessons, all this talk about primary sources got one of my students thinking about the primary sources that we’ll be leaving behind. In other words, he wanted to know what the people of the future will be using to understand our history. It’s a fun thought experiment to consider – what are you leaving behind that will be around for someone to sift through, dust off and make conclusions about how you lived your life or what you thought? For me, it’s this blog, a few knick-knacks I’ve left around and probably some news articles that have quoted me. Not much, really – and probably more than most.
Even before I was a history teacher, and got on tangents about primary sources, I was interested in leaving behind something more. And I’m not the only one with this instinct. StoryCorps started as a small non-profit venture that set out to record the everyday stories of Americans from across the country. They wanted to capture the folklore of our day and cement it in the Library of Congress for all of posterity. I thought it was a fun idea, and I especially loved the idea of sharing our personal narratives with someone else. Check out the website for more information about how it works, but it really is quite simple. The website even gives little snippets of select interviews, like this one.
What started as a stationary booth in NYC has blossomed into a mobile listening booth that travels around the US and a second and third booth in DC and SF. They have expanded their mission and have collected tens of thousands of stories. And of those stories, I account for three. I’ve interviewed my closest of friends Diana and Gina, my grandparents Ed and Helen and my dad Mike. Over the last three years, I’ve gone to all three booths in NYC and SF and just recently interviewed my dad during the holiday. He wasn’t nervous at first, but I could tell the pressure was on – especially when I asked about his first kiss. The point of the interviews aren’t to role play Oprah or Dr. Phil – it’s more about revealing than revelations. I want to leave something behind that explains where my family came from and the people they were. My interview questions range form childhood memories to life regrets, and my partner can take it as deep or shallow as they want. If you are in any of the cities StoryCorps visits, I recommend making an appointment (hurry – they run out quick!) and picking a friend or loved one who you want to interview. It’s a great experience for both – and they give you a copy of the interview to take home – something you’ll have forever.
I just imagine the school kids of the future, listening in on these interviews, learning about our lives and the ways we thought and interacted. And the teacher who so eagerly uses the stories we told to teach his students about the past, a little more knowledgeable because of we left something behind.
- Jeff
The parents who went on vacation
One of my 6th grade students wrote this short story and showed it to me today. It was her homework, and it was shoved in my face at 7am. Overall, I’d praise her for her vivid use of detail and proper use of pro-nouns (although a bit overkill with the parenthesis). My one piece of advice was that she should try to grab the reader’s attention in the first lines of the story…not the last. Read on.
So…what do you say to something like that? Well, at 7am in the morning, you take a picture of it with your phone and try to laugh. Sometimes, that’s all you can do.
- Jeff
2 comments