Somebody tag me for a meme or something.

I have perhaps 14 things I need to do before going to bed tonight. Probably more, but I’m cutting myself some slack. Instead, I’m putting them off so that I can take my required Sunday nap. What’s more, I’m putting off said nap so that I can type meaningless drivel that will show up in your feed reader. Which is a rather arrogant thing to say, as it assumes anyone subscribes to my feed.

For an English teacher, I use a lot of fragments. And nonstandard phrases such as “a lot of.” And prepositions at the end of sentences.

Sundays are just weird around here (“here”=”about my person”). I feel so much like simultaneously completely retreating into my shell and reaching out. To whom and for what purpose, I’m not even sure.

My apologies. At least it’s not about teaching…

I wonder what a real teacher who’s been doing it for many years and who reads my blog would say to all of these “insights” I’m having. The ones at my school are so kind–they just stand and listen and nod while I vent and empathize and encourage. I often wonder what they’re really thinking. I plan on paying it forward someday (if I make it that long, Lord willing), I promise I do.

I’ll start with the latest low points. My seniors just simply break my heart in more ways than I can express. I love them–not that they’ll ever believe that–but they can just be so infuriating and hurtful. At the same time, though–they’re precious, and so little and young and cute and funny…just not in the way they think they are. I was very proud of them when we had our medieval food day–they all stepped up and cooked food and brought cups and plates and got along.

Anyway, this week was really hard. I’m trying to teach them Night, by Elie Wiesel. Shamefully, this is the first time I myself have read it, and I am, for lack of a better word, stunned. I won’t take time out for a book review now. Point being, it’s amazing, and SO important for them to be reading at this age.

So yeah, I showed them a documentary on Gerda Weissman, a survivor of Auschwitz. Half of them slept through it.

It’s almost like a joke–it brings to mind the episode of Seinfeld in which Jerry makes out during Schindler’s List–but at the time I got so angry I couldn’t teach afterward. I had some questions I wanted them to contemplate and answer in small groups, but I just handed it out and let them do it on their own.

I didn’t know how to tell them without cursing that it was the kind of apathy they had just demonstrated that had led to the very atrocity they had just ignored.

The next day I gave them a quiz on the reading assignment I had given them. They proceeded to let me know exactly how acceptable they thought that was–after all, they weren’t going to spend $6 on no book in the first place, much less read it. Despite the fact that I’ve never given them homework before, I was an unreasonable ogre. One girl–and this is the part that brought me on down to the end of the rope–who’s rarely ever even spoken in class said, with the most unexpectedly hateful look on her face, that she can’t have a job after school AND read a book.

Not that I would know anything about holding a job and going to school at the same time.

At the break, I went to the aforementioned AP for some help. She talked to me for a few minutes and suggested that, though it was a frustrating situation, I just read it to them in class since they didn’t all have the book and it was a no-win situation. Though it took a lot of swallowed pride to concede defeat, I do love to read out loud (and be read to–not necessarily by 17-year-olds, though).

Thing is, I don’t want their resentment toward me (as representative of The Man) or at having to buy an accelerated reader book and read it to turn them against this book. I cannot stand the thought of presiding over a classroom in which the implications of the Holocaust are lost on anyone.

Anyway, I went back in with the AP’s affirmation that I was, indeed, in charge of the classroom. I had an activity I wanted to do with them involving anti-Semitic propaganda. However, we got stuck on the meaning of “anti-Semitic,” then on what it actually meant to be Jewish, then on racism in general.

I must say, the class (well, the ones not continuing their own conversations in different parts of the classroom) and I actually had probably the first real discussion of the semester. This particular class is made up of mostly black girls and white guys, so it’s an interesting mix of backgrounds and experiences. I loved it. We were able to identify some assumptions and the arbitrary nature of such. I was able to get across, at least to a few of them, that such assumptions, if left unchecked, could have horrific ramifications.

And then I read to them the next day. I don’t know what’s going on in their heads. I hope something will sink in.

***

The high point.

Friday was an abbreviated day (the county fair and all). Thus, I only had my first block for an hour or so. I gave the ones who didn’t bring AR projects to work on another project to do as a group. It was an activity I’d gotten from another teacher; they had to create their own club, name it, give its history, basically just construct the whole thing theoretically.

I heard them talking and walked by occasionally. One called me over and asked why they couldn’t pray in school. I explained that if the school sponsored religious activity, some might be offended because they were atheistic or of another type of religion. Then, one girl piped up: “but what about our free speech?”

Indeed.

Ah, it thrilled my soul. I must admit I’m not pro prayer in schools–though most likely on different grounds than most who share my position, but I won’t go further into that–but hearing her pure, genuine question instantly did my soul some good. I left them to their work, then a few minutes later they called me over again to ask if they could make a real “Free Speech Club” if they could get a sponsor.

I know they’ll probably forget about it. I know even if they take it as far as trying to form a real campus club, most likely their good intentions will be quelled more often than not. I am so grateful, though, as I told them, that they were asking the questions they were asking. I told them they were going to have to be the ones to graduate and go out into the world and get things changed. Goodness knows my generation (myself chief among them) are not doing a whole lot about anything besides talking. (For more on this, read this posting by Kat Coble. Good stuff.)

I loved that moment. I loved that a simple writing assignment sparked something more than one-dimensional thinking–that they actually found relevance in it and were even moved to action. It had nothing to do with me–I just made copies of a handout and distributed it. That’s why I’m here, though–to facilitate, to guide, in the hopes of such.

It was nice to end the week knowing that at least a few of them won’t be bystanders.

I wonder what a real teacher who’s been doing it for many years and who reads my blog would say to all of these “insights” I’m having. The ones at my school are so kind–they just stand and listen and nod while I vent and empathize and encourage. I often wonder what they’re really thinking. I plan on paying it forward someday (if I make it that long, Lord willing), I promise I do.

I’ll start with the latest low points. My seniors just simply break my heart in more ways than I can express. I love them–not that they’ll ever believe that–but they can just be so infuriating and hurtful. At the same time, though–they’re precious, and so little and young and cute and funny…just not in the way they think they are. I was very proud of them when we had our medieval food day–they all stepped up and cooked food and brought cups and plates and got along.

Anyway, this week was really hard. I’m trying to teach them Night, by Elie Wiesel. Shamefully, this is the first time I myself have read it, and I am, for lack of a better word, stunned. I won’t take time out for a book review now. Point being, it’s amazing, and SO important for them to be reading at this age.

So yeah, I showed them a documentary on Gerda Weissman, a survivor of Auschwitz. Half of them slept through it.

It’s almost like a joke–it brings to mind the episode of Seinfeld in which Jerry makes out during Schindler’s List–but at the time I got so angry I couldn’t teach afterward. I had some questions I wanted them to contemplate and answer in small groups, but I just handed it out and let them do it on their own.

I didn’t know how to tell them without cursing that it was the kind of apathy they had just demonstrated that had led to the very atrocity they had just ignored.

The next day I gave them a quiz on the reading assignment I had given them. They proceeded to let me know exactly how acceptable they thought that was–after all, they weren’t going to spend $6 on no book in the first place, much less read it. Despite the fact that I’ve never given them homework before, I was an unreasonable ogre. One girl–and this is the part that brought me on down to the end of the rope–who’s rarely ever even spoken in class said, with the most unexpectedly hateful look on her face, that she can’t have a job after school AND read a book.

Not that I would know anything about holding a job and going to school at the same time.

At the break, I went to the aforementioned AP for some help. She talked to me for a few minutes and suggested that, though it was a frustrating situation, I just read it to them in class since they didn’t all have the book and it was a no-win situation. Though it took a lot of swallowed pride to concede defeat, I do love to read out loud (and be read to–not necessarily by 17-year-olds, though).

Thing is, I don’t want their resentment toward me (as representative of The Man) or at having to buy an accelerated reader book and read it to turn them against this book. I cannot stand the thought of presiding over a classroom in which the implications of the Holocaust are lost on anyone.

Anyway, I went back in with the AP’s affirmation that I was, indeed, in charge of the classroom. I had an activity I wanted to do with them involving anti-Semitic propaganda. However, we got stuck on the meaning of “anti-Semitic,” then on what it actually meant to be Jewish, then on racism in general.

I must say, the class (well, the ones not continuing their own conversations in different parts of the classroom) and I actually had probably the first real discussion of the semester. This particular class is made up of mostly black girls and white guys, so it’s an interesting mix of backgrounds and experiences. I loved it. We were able to identify some assumptions and the arbitrary nature of such. I was able to get across, at least to a few of them, that such assumptions, if left unchecked, could have horrific ramifications.

And then I read to them the next day. I don’t know what’s going on in their heads. I hope something will sink in.

***

The high point.

Friday was an abbreviated day (the county fair and all). Thus, I only had my first block for an hour or so. I gave the ones who didn’t bring AR projects to work on another project to do as a group. It was an activity I’d gotten from another teacher; they had to create their own club, name it, give its history, basically just construct the whole thing theoretically.

I heard them talking and walked by occasionally. One called me over and asked why they couldn’t pray in school. I explained that if the school sponsored religious activity, some might be offended because they were atheistic or of another type of religion. Then, one girl piped up: “but what about our free speech?”

Indeed.

Ah, it thrilled my soul. I must admit I’m not pro prayer in schools–though most likely on different grounds than most who share my position, but I won’t go further into that–but hearing her pure, genuine question instantly did my soul some good. I left them to their work, then a few minutes later they called me over again to ask if they could make a real “Free Speech Club” if they could get a sponsor.

I know they’ll probably forget about it. I know even if they take it as far as trying to form a real campus club, most likely their good intentions will be quelled more often than not. I am so grateful, though, as I told them, that they were asking the questions they were asking. I told them they were going to have to be the ones to graduate and go out into the world and get things changed. Goodness knows my generation (myself chief among them) are not doing a whole lot about anything besides talking. (For more on this, read this posting by Kat Coble. Good stuff.)

I loved that moment. I loved that a simple writing assignment sparked something more than one-dimensional thinking–that they actually found relevance in it and were even moved to action. It had nothing to do with me–I just made copies of a handout and distributed it. That’s why I’m here, though–to facilitate, to guide, in the hopes of such.

It was nice to end the week knowing that at least a few of them won’t be bystanders.

I wonder what a real teacher who’s been doing it for many years and who reads my blog would say to all of these “insights” I’m having. The ones at my school are so kind–they just stand and listen and nod while I vent and empathize and encourage. I often wonder what they’re really thinking. I plan on paying it forward someday (if I make it that long, Lord willing), I promise I do.

I’ll start with the latest low points. My seniors just simply break my heart in more ways than I can express. I love them–not that they’ll ever believe that–but they can just be so infuriating and hurtful. At the same time, though–they’re precious, and so little and young and cute and funny…just not in the way they think they are. I was very proud of them when we had our medieval food day–they all stepped up and cooked food and brought cups and plates and got along.

Anyway, this week was really hard. I’m trying to teach them Night, by Elie Wiesel. Shamefully, this is the first time I myself have read it, and I am, for lack of a better word, stunned. I won’t take time out for a book review now. Point being, it’s amazing, and SO important for them to be reading at this age.

So yeah, I showed them a documentary on Gerda Weissman, a survivor of Auschwitz. Half of them slept through it.

It’s almost like a joke–it brings to mind the episode of Seinfeld in which Jerry makes out during Schindler’s List–but at the time I got so angry I couldn’t teach afterward. I had some questions I wanted them to contemplate and answer in small groups, but I just handed it out and let them do it on their own.

I didn’t know how to tell them without cursing that it was the kind of apathy they had just demonstrated that had led to the very atrocity they had just ignored.

The next day I gave them a quiz on the reading assignment I had given them. They proceeded to let me know exactly how acceptable they thought that was–after all, they weren’t going to spend $6 on no book in the first place, much less read it. Despite the fact that I’ve never given them homework before, I was an unreasonable ogre. One girl–and this is the part that brought me on down to the end of the rope–who’s rarely ever even spoken in class said, with the most unexpectedly hateful look on her face, that she can’t have a job after school AND read a book.

Not that I would know anything about holding a job and going to school at the same time.

At the break, I went to the aforementioned AP for some help. She talked to me for a few minutes and suggested that, though it was a frustrating situation, I just read it to them in class since they didn’t all have the book and it was a no-win situation. Though it took a lot of swallowed pride to concede defeat, I do love to read out loud (and be read to–not necessarily by 17-year-olds, though).

Thing is, I don’t want their resentment toward me (as representative of The Man) or at having to buy an accelerated reader book and read it to turn them against this book. I cannot stand the thought of presiding over a classroom in which the implications of the Holocaust are lost on anyone.

Anyway, I went back in with the AP’s affirmation that I was, indeed, in charge of the classroom. I had an activity I wanted to do with them involving anti-Semitic propaganda. However, we got stuck on the meaning of “anti-Semitic,” then on what it actually meant to be Jewish, then on racism in general.

I must say, the class (well, the ones not continuing their own conversations in different parts of the classroom) and I actually had probably the first real discussion of the semester. This particular class is made up of mostly black girls and white guys, so it’s an interesting mix of backgrounds and experiences. I loved it. We were able to identify some assumptions and the arbitrary nature of such. I was able to get across, at least to a few of them, that such assumptions, if left unchecked, could have horrific ramifications.

And then I read to them the next day. I don’t know what’s going on in their heads. I hope something will sink in.

***

The high point.

Friday was an abbreviated day (the county fair and all). Thus, I only had my first block for an hour or so. I gave the ones who didn’t bring AR projects to work on another project to do as a group. It was an activity I’d gotten from another teacher; they had to create their own club, name it, give its history, basically just construct the whole thing theoretically.

I heard them talking and walked by occasionally. One called me over and asked why they couldn’t pray in school. I explained that if the school sponsored religious activity, some might be offended because they were atheistic or of another type of religion. Then, one girl piped up: “but what about our free speech?”

Indeed.

Ah, it thrilled my soul. I must admit I’m not pro prayer in schools–though most likely on different grounds than most who share my position, but I won’t go further into that–but hearing her pure, genuine question instantly did my soul some good. I left them to their work, then a few minutes later they called me over again to ask if they could make a real “Free Speech Club” if they could get a sponsor.

I know they’ll probably forget about it. I know even if they take it as far as trying to form a real campus club, most likely their good intentions will be quelled more often than not. I am so grateful, though, as I told them, that they were asking the questions they were asking. I told them they were going to have to be the ones to graduate and go out into the world and get things changed. Goodness knows my generation (myself chief among them) are not doing a whole lot about anything besides talking. (For more on this, read this posting by Kat Coble. Good stuff.)

I loved that moment. I loved that a simple writing assignment sparked something more than one-dimensional thinking–that they actually found relevance in it and were even moved to action. It had nothing to do with me–I just made copies of a handout and distributed it. That’s why I’m here, though–to facilitate, to guide, in the hopes of such.

It was nice to end the week knowing that at least a few of them won’t be bystanders.

I wonder what a real teacher who’s been doing it for many years and who reads my blog would say to all of these “insights” I’m having. The ones at my school are so kind–they just stand and listen and nod while I vent and empathize and encourage. I often wonder what they’re really thinking. I plan on paying it forward someday (if I make it that long, Lord willing), I promise I do.

I’ll start with the latest low points. My seniors just simply break my heart in more ways than I can express. I love them–not that they’ll ever believe that–but they can just be so infuriating and hurtful. At the same time, though–they’re precious, and so little and young and cute and funny…just not in the way they think they are. I was very proud of them when we had our medieval food day–they all stepped up and cooked food and brought cups and plates and got along.

Anyway, this week was really hard. I’m trying to teach them Night, by Elie Wiesel. Shamefully, this is the first time I myself have read it, and I am, for lack of a better word, stunned. I won’t take time out for a book review now. Point being, it’s amazing, and SO important for them to be reading at this age.

So yeah, I showed them a documentary on Gerda Weissman, a survivor of Auschwitz. Half of them slept through it.

It’s almost like a joke–it brings to mind the episode of Seinfeld in which Jerry makes out during Schindler’s List–but at the time I got so angry I couldn’t teach afterward. I had some questions I wanted them to contemplate and answer in small groups, but I just handed it out and let them do it on their own.

I didn’t know how to tell them without cursing that it was the kind of apathy they had just demonstrated that had led to the very atrocity they had just ignored.

The next day I gave them a quiz on the reading assignment I had given them. They proceeded to let me know exactly how acceptable they thought that was–after all, they weren’t going to spend $6 on no book in the first place, much less read it. Despite the fact that I’ve never given them homework before, I was an unreasonable ogre. One girl–and this is the part that brought me on down to the end of the rope–who’s rarely ever even spoken in class said, with the most unexpectedly hateful look on her face, that she can’t have a job after school AND read a book.

Not that I would know anything about holding a job and going to school at the same time.

At the break, I went to the aforementioned AP for some help. She talked to me for a few minutes and suggested that, though it was a frustrating situation, I just read it to them in class since they didn’t all have the book and it was a no-win situation. Though it took a lot of swallowed pride to concede defeat, I do love to read out loud (and be read to–not necessarily by 17-year-olds, though).

Thing is, I don’t want their resentment toward me (as representative of The Man) or at having to buy an accelerated reader book and read it to turn them against this book. I cannot stand the thought of presiding over a classroom in which the implications of the Holocaust are lost on anyone.

Anyway, I went back in with the AP’s affirmation that I was, indeed, in charge of the classroom. I had an activity I wanted to do with them involving anti-Semitic propaganda. However, we got stuck on the meaning of “anti-Semitic,” then on what it actually meant to be Jewish, then on racism in general.

I must say, the class (well, the ones not continuing their own conversations in different parts of the classroom) and I actually had probably the first real discussion of the semester. This particular class is made up of mostly black girls and white guys, so it’s an interesting mix of backgrounds and experiences. I loved it. We were able to identify some assumptions and the arbitrary nature of such. I was able to get across, at least to a few of them, that such assumptions, if left unchecked, could have horrific ramifications.

And then I read to them the next day. I don’t know what’s going on in their heads. I hope something will sink in.

***

The high point.

Friday was an abbreviated day (the county fair and all). Thus, I only had my first block for an hour or so. I gave the ones who didn’t bring AR projects to work on another project to do as a group. It was an activity I’d gotten from another teacher; they had to create their own club, name it, give its history, basically just construct the whole thing theoretically.

I heard them talking and walked by occasionally. One called me over and asked why they couldn’t pray in school. I explained that if the school sponsored religious activity, some might be offended because they were atheistic or of another type of religion. Then, one girl piped up: “but what about our free speech?”

Indeed.

Ah, it thrilled my soul. I must admit I’m not pro prayer in schools–though most likely on different grounds than most who share my position, but I won’t go further into that–but hearing her pure, genuine question instantly did my soul some good. I left them to their work, then a few minutes later they called me over again to ask if they could make a real “Free Speech Club” if they could get a sponsor.

I know they’ll probably forget about it. I know even if they take it as far as trying to form a real campus club, most likely their good intentions will be quelled more often than not. I am so grateful, though, as I told them, that they were asking the questions they were asking. I told them they were going to have to be the ones to graduate and go out into the world and get things changed. Goodness knows my generation (myself chief among them) are not doing a whole lot about anything besides talking. (For more on this, read this posting by Kat Coble. Good stuff.)

I loved that moment. I loved that a simple writing assignment sparked something more than one-dimensional thinking–that they actually found relevance in it and were even moved to action. It had nothing to do with me–I just made copies of a handout and distributed it. That’s why I’m here, though–to facilitate, to guide, in the hopes of such.

It was nice to end the week knowing that at least a few of them won’t be bystanders.

I wonder what a real teacher who’s been doing it for many years and who reads my blog would say to all of these “insights” I’m having. The ones at my school are so kind–they just stand and listen and nod while I vent and empathize and encourage. I often wonder what they’re really thinking. I plan on paying it forward someday (if I make it that long, Lord willing), I promise I do.

I’ll start with the latest low points. My seniors just simply break my heart in more ways than I can express. I love them–not that they’ll ever believe that–but they can just be so infuriating and hurtful. At the same time, though–they’re precious, and so little and young and cute and funny…just not in the way they think they are. I was very proud of them when we had our medieval food day–they all stepped up and cooked food and brought cups and plates and got along.

Anyway, this week was really hard. I’m trying to teach them Night, by Elie Wiesel. Shamefully, this is the first time I myself have read it, and I am, for lack of a better word, stunned. I won’t take time out for a book review now. Point being, it’s amazing, and SO important for them to be reading at this age.

So yeah, I showed them a documentary on Gerda Weissman, a survivor of Auschwitz. Half of them slept through it.

It’s almost like a joke–it brings to mind the episode of Seinfeld in which Jerry makes out during Schindler’s List–but at the time I got so angry I couldn’t teach afterward. I had some questions I wanted them to contemplate and answer in small groups, but I just handed it out and let them do it on their own.

I didn’t know how to tell them without cursing that it was the kind of apathy they had just demonstrated that had led to the very atrocity they had just ignored.

The next day I gave them a quiz on the reading assignment I had given them. They proceeded to let me know exactly how acceptable they thought that was–after all, they weren’t going to spend $6 on no book in the first place, much less read it. Despite the fact that I’ve never given them homework before, I was an unreasonable ogre. One girl–and this is the part that brought me on down to the end of the rope–who’s rarely ever even spoken in class said, with the most unexpectedly hateful look on her face, that she can’t have a job after school AND read a book.

Not that I would know anything about holding a job and going to school at the same time.

At the break, I went to the aforementioned AP for some help. She talked to me for a few minutes and suggested that, though it was a frustrating situation, I just read it to them in class since they didn’t all have the book and it was a no-win situation. Though it took a lot of swallowed pride to concede defeat, I do love to read out loud (and be read to–not necessarily by 17-year-olds, though).

Thing is, I don’t want their resentment toward me (as representative of The Man) or at having to buy an accelerated reader book and read it to turn them against this book. I cannot stand the thought of presiding over a classroom in which the implications of the Holocaust are lost on anyone.

Anyway, I went back in with the AP’s affirmation that I was, indeed, in charge of the classroom. I had an activity I wanted to do with them involving anti-Semitic propaganda. However, we got stuck on the meaning of “anti-Semitic,” then on what it actually meant to be Jewish, then on racism in general.

I must say, the class (well, the ones not continuing their own conversations in different parts of the classroom) and I actually had probably the first real discussion of the semester. This particular class is made up of mostly black girls and white guys, so it’s an interesting mix of backgrounds and experiences. I loved it. We were able to identify some assumptions and the arbitrary nature of such. I was able to get across, at least to a few of them, that such assumptions, if left unchecked, could have horrific ramifications.

And then I read to them the next day. I don’t know what’s going on in their heads. I hope something will sink in.

***

The high point.

Friday was an abbreviated day (the county fair and all). Thus, I only had my first block for an hour or so. I gave the ones who didn’t bring AR projects to work on another project to do as a group. It was an activity I’d gotten from another teacher; they had to create their own club, name it, give its history, basically just construct the whole thing theoretically.

I heard them talking and walked by occasionally. One called me over and asked why they couldn’t pray in school. I explained that if the school sponsored religious activity, some might be offended because they were atheistic or of another type of religion. Then, one girl piped up: “but what about our free speech?”

Indeed.

Ah, it thrilled my soul. I must admit I’m not pro prayer in schools–though most likely on different grounds than most who share my position, but I won’t go further into that–but hearing her pure, genuine question instantly did my soul some good. I left them to their work, then a few minutes later they called me over again to ask if they could make a real “Free Speech Club” if they could get a sponsor.

I know they’ll probably forget about it. I know even if they take it as far as trying to form a real campus club, most likely their good intentions will be quelled more often than not. I am so grateful, though, as I told them, that they were asking the questions they were asking. I told them they were going to have to be the ones to graduate and go out into the world and get things changed. Goodness knows my generation (myself chief among them) are not doing a whole lot about anything besides talking. (For more on this, read this posting by Kat Coble. Good stuff.)

I loved that moment. I loved that a simple writing assignment sparked something more than one-dimensional thinking–that they actually found relevance in it and were even moved to action. It had nothing to do with me–I just made copies of a handout and distributed it. That’s why I’m here, though–to facilitate, to guide, in the hopes of such.

It was nice to end the week knowing that at least a few of them won’t be bystanders.

I wonder what a real teacher who’s been doing it for many years and who reads my blog would say to all of these “insights” I’m having. The ones at my school are so kind–they just stand and listen and nod while I vent and empathize and encourage. I often wonder what they’re really thinking. I plan on paying it forward someday (if I make it that long, Lord willing), I promise I do.

I’ll start with the latest low points. My seniors just simply break my heart in more ways than I can express. I love them–not that they’ll ever believe that–but they can just be so infuriating and hurtful. At the same time, though–they’re precious, and so little and young and cute and funny…just not in the way they think they are. I was very proud of them when we had our medieval food day–they all stepped up and cooked food and brought cups and plates and got along.

Anyway, this week was really hard. I’m trying to teach them Night, by Elie Wiesel. Shamefully, this is the first time I myself have read it, and I am, for lack of a better word, stunned. I won’t take time out for a book review now. Point being, it’s amazing, and SO important for them to be reading at this age.

So yeah, I showed them a documentary on Gerda Weissman, a survivor of Auschwitz. Half of them slept through it.

It’s almost like a joke–it brings to mind the episode of Seinfeld in which Jerry makes out during Schindler’s List–but at the time I got so angry I couldn’t teach afterward. I had some questions I wanted them to contemplate and answer in small groups, but I just handed it out and let them do it on their own.

I didn’t know how to tell them without cursing that it was the kind of apathy they had just demonstrated that had led to the very atrocity they had just ignored.

The next day I gave them a quiz on the reading assignment I had given them. They proceeded to let me know exactly how acceptable they thought that was–after all, they weren’t going to spend $6 on no book in the first place, much less read it. Despite the fact that I’ve never given them homework before, I was an unreasonable ogre. One girl–and this is the part that brought me on down to the end of the rope–who’s rarely ever even spoken in class said, with the most unexpectedly hateful look on her face, that she can’t have a job after school AND read a book.

Not that I would know anything about holding a job and going to school at the same time.

At the break, I went to the aforementioned AP for some help. She talked to me for a few minutes and suggested that, though it was a frustrating situation, I just read it to them in class since they didn’t all have the book and it was a no-win situation. Though it took a lot of swallowed pride to concede defeat, I do love to read out loud (and be read to–not necessarily by 17-year-olds, though).

Thing is, I don’t want their resentment toward me (as representative of The Man) or at having to buy an accelerated reader book and read it to turn them against this book. I cannot stand the thought of presiding over a classroom in which the implications of the Holocaust are lost on anyone.

Anyway, I went back in with the AP’s affirmation that I was, indeed, in charge of the classroom. I had an activity I wanted to do with them involving anti-Semitic propaganda. However, we got stuck on the meaning of “anti-Semitic,” then on what it actually meant to be Jewish, then on racism in general.

I must say, the class (well, the ones not continuing their own conversations in different parts of the classroom) and I actually had probably the first real discussion of the semester. This particular class is made up of mostly black girls and white guys, so it’s an interesting mix of backgrounds and experiences. I loved it. We were able to identify some assumptions and the arbitrary nature of such. I was able to get across, at least to a few of them, that such assumptions, if left unchecked, could have horrific ramifications.

And then I read to them the next day. I don’t know what’s going on in their heads. I hope something will sink in.

***

The high point.

Friday was an abbreviated day (the county fair and all). Thus, I only had my first block for an hour or so. I gave the ones who didn’t bring AR projects to work on another project to do as a group. It was an activity I’d gotten from another teacher; they had to create their own club, name it, give its history, basically just construct the whole thing theoretically.

I heard them talking and walked by occasionally. One called me over and asked why they couldn’t pray in school. I explained that if the school sponsored religious activity, some might be offended because they were atheistic or of another type of religion. Then, one girl piped up: “but what about our free speech?”

Indeed.

Ah, it thrilled my soul. I must admit I’m not pro prayer in schools–though most likely on different grounds than most who share my position, but I won’t go further into that–but hearing her pure, genuine question instantly did my soul some good. I left them to their work, then a few minutes later they called me over again to ask if they could make a real “Free Speech Club” if they could get a sponsor.

I know they’ll probably forget about it. I know even if they take it as far as trying to form a real campus club, most likely their good intentions will be quelled more often than not. I am so grateful, though, as I told them, that they were asking the questions they were asking. I told them they were going to have to be the ones to graduate and go out into the world and get things changed. Goodness knows my generation (myself chief among them) are not doing a whole lot about anything besides talking. (For more on this, read this posting by Kat Coble. Good stuff.)

I loved that moment. I loved that a simple writing assignment sparked something more than one-dimensional thinking–that they actually found relevance in it and were even moved to action. It had nothing to do with me–I just made copies of a handout and distributed it. That’s why I’m here, though–to facilitate, to guide, in the hopes of such.

It was nice to end the week knowing that at least a few of them won’t be bystanders.

I wonder what a real teacher who’s been doing it for many years and who reads my blog would say to all of these “insights” I’m having. The ones at my school are so kind–they just stand and listen and nod while I vent and empathize and encourage. I often wonder what they’re really thinking. I plan on paying it forward someday (if I make it that long, Lord willing), I promise I do.

I’ll start with the latest low points. My seniors just simply break my heart in more ways than I can express. I love them–not that they’ll ever believe that–but they can just be so infuriating and hurtful. At the same time, though–they’re precious, and so little and young and cute and funny…just not in the way they think they are. I was very proud of them when we had our medieval food day–they all stepped up and cooked food and brought cups and plates and got along.

Anyway, this week was really hard. I’m trying to teach them Night, by Elie Wiesel. Shamefully, this is the first time I myself have read it, and I am, for lack of a better word, stunned. I won’t take time out for a book review now. Point being, it’s amazing, and SO important for them to be reading at this age.

So yeah, I showed them a documentary on Gerda Weissman, a survivor of Auschwitz. Half of them slept through it.

It’s almost like a joke–it brings to mind the episode of Seinfeld in which Jerry makes out during Schindler’s List–but at the time I got so angry I couldn’t teach afterward. I had some questions I wanted them to contemplate and answer in small groups, but I just handed it out and let them do it on their own.

I didn’t know how to tell them without cursing that it was the kind of apathy they had just demonstrated that had led to the very atrocity they had just ignored.

The next day I gave them a quiz on the reading assignment I had given them. They proceeded to let me know exactly how acceptable they thought that was–after all, they weren’t going to spend $6 on no book in the first place, much less read it. Despite the fact that I’ve never given them homework before, I was an unreasonable ogre. One girl–and this is the part that brought me on down to the end of the rope–who’s rarely ever even spoken in class said, with the most unexpectedly hateful look on her face, that she can’t have a job after school AND read a book.

Not that I would know anything about holding a job and going to school at the same time.

At the break, I went to the aforementioned AP for some help. She talked to me for a few minutes and suggested that, though it was a frustrating situation, I just read it to them in class since they didn’t all have the book and it was a no-win situation. Though it took a lot of swallowed pride to concede defeat, I do love to read out loud (and be read to–not necessarily by 17-year-olds, though).

Thing is, I don’t want their resentment toward me (as representative of The Man) or at having to buy an accelerated reader book and read it to turn them against this book. I cannot stand the thought of presiding over a classroom in which the implications of the Holocaust are lost on anyone.

Anyway, I went back in with the AP’s affirmation that I was, indeed, in charge of the classroom. I had an activity I wanted to do with them involving anti-Semitic propaganda. However, we got stuck on the meaning of “anti-Semitic,” then on what it actually meant to be Jewish, then on racism in general.

I must say, the class (well, the ones not continuing their own conversations in different parts of the classroom) and I actually had probably the first real discussion of the semester. This particular class is made up of mostly black girls and white guys, so it’s an interesting mix of backgrounds and experiences. I loved it. We were able to identify some assumptions and the arbitrary nature of such. I was able to get across, at least to a few of them, that such assumptions, if left unchecked, could have horrific ramifications.

And then I read to them the next day. I don’t know what’s going on in their heads. I hope something will sink in.

***

The high point.

Friday was an abbreviated day (the county fair and all). Thus, I only had my first block for an hour or so. I gave the ones who didn’t bring AR projects to work on another project to do as a group. It was an activity I’d gotten from another teacher; they had to create their own club, name it, give its history, basically just construct the whole thing theoretically.

I heard them talking and walked by occasionally. One called me over and asked why they couldn’t pray in school. I explained that if the school sponsored religious activity, some might be offended because they were atheistic or of another type of religion. Then, one girl piped up: “but what about our free speech?”

Indeed.

Ah, it thrilled my soul. I must admit I’m not pro prayer in schools–though most likely on different grounds than most who share my position, but I won’t go further into that–but hearing her pure, genuine question instantly did my soul some good. I left them to their work, then a few minutes later they called me over again to ask if they could make a real “Free Speech Club” if they could get a sponsor.

I know they’ll probably forget about it. I know even if they take it as far as trying to form a real campus club, most likely their good intentions will be quelled more often than not. I am so grateful, though, as I told them, that they were asking the questions they were asking. I told them they were going to have to be the ones to graduate and go out into the world and get things changed. Goodness knows my generation (myself chief among them) are not doing a whole lot about anything besides talking. (For more on this, read this posting by Kat Coble. Good stuff.)

I loved that moment. I loved that a simple writing assignment sparked something more than one-dimensional thinking–that they actually found relevance in it and were even moved to action. It had nothing to do with me–I just made copies of a handout and distributed it. That’s why I’m here, though–to facilitate, to guide, in the hopes of such.

It was nice to end the week knowing that at least a few of them won’t be bystanders.

I cannot but blog at times like these.

So I have two classes to prepare to teach tomorrow, as well as a class to do homework for tomorrow night and the night thereafter. Teacher evaluations are this week, so at any point someone from the administration could come watch me battle my internal and external classroom demons with no warning. My chi’ren seemed pretty unmoved by my introductory presentation on the Holocaust today, which was very disheartening.

And I’m sleepy. I am always sleepy.

And yet…this little coffee shop I found here in D-burg is so cozy. I claimed the couch by the fireplace. Is that wrong? Should I have let people with friends/lovers have it to chat/cuddle on? It’s just that “Rocky Raccoon” is playing. And I can pretend I’m living the life–that I’m the lit professor patronizing the local coffee joint as she skims back over Walden in preparation for an inspiring free-styled lecture to adoring English majors the next day. And I’m in the mountains. Because that’s where my fantasies always are.

(We could throw Ryan Adams in, as long as we’re fantasizing. I’m more in the mood for a quiet evening, though.)

I don’t really lecture, for the record. I’m more one of those annoying Socratic types. I’d like to know enough to lecture someday, though. My favorite teachers were the lecturers. The good lecturers. I think that’s a true art, and an underappreciated one.

I wonder when I’ll start my Ph.D. Since getting my M.A., I’ve started two other random degrees that I haven’t finished. Here’s hoping I get this certification within a year and can devote more time to teaching. Here’s also hoping for an opportunity for doctoral work before I get any older or tireder.

Or maybe some fool will marry me. Yeah, I’d dig that.

Every day I drive past a parking lot in my neighborhood that has a used Airstream for sale. I really want to buy it. I won’t. I will be happy for whoever does, but I hope it’s not for a long time. It makes me happy to see it there, and I can think about all the things I would do if I had it. I would drive everywhere, and live anywhere I wanted. At least in my head that’s what you do with a used Airstream and too many places you want to live.

***Addendum: Immediately after posting this, “Sugar Mountain” by Neil Young started playing. I win.***

In which Holly abandons principle in favor of pragmatism.

What teaching public school has done to me, the nearly-two-months-in edition:

Principle: I believe that school uniforms, as well as overly-strict dress codes, are not at all a desirable thing. Were I to be asked to vote on the issue, I would vote strongly against. I hate the idea of humans in their most formative years being streamlined into khaki-clad herds. I believe in freedom of expression, yes, even for teenagers. Our new modified uniform went into effect the day after Labor Day.

Pragmatism: It’s sooooo nice not to have to see the entirety of young men’s butts, covered only by boxers, because the waistline of their jeans is literally down to their thighs. It’s sooooo nice not to see diabetes-bound girls in tees three sizes too small and that barely cover their bellies. And that say “My Other Boyfriend is Hotter” on the front.

Principle: I really think kids should act the way they’re supposed to on principle. While I believe in incorporating as much positive reinforcement as possible, I think they should have enough self-respect and respect for teachers and classmates to act the way they should without expecting (or demanding, in some cases) something in return.

Pragmatism: It’s almost magical how a promise of “a few minutes of free time” at the end of a class period will shut them the crap up, at least for a little while.

Principle: I am firmly, absolutely against corporal punishment in public schools. I actually believe spanking is a valid disciplinary option in the private home, but my parents never let the school system lay a hand on me and if I have children someday, I’d better never hear of such even being suggested to my child.

Pragmatism: Some of my kids need whoopings. Enough said.