New Edited Charles Again for Critical Incident

He had the most beautiful, piercing, catlike eyes. He struggled valiantly with words. His stilted vocabulary shrank to infinitesimal proportions, and I believed him to have few words with which to express himself, especially when I asked him a question during class. He was quiet and respectful with a stillness about him which made me wonder what he was thinking. He was in my sophomore English class. With great effort he struggle to pass and I really didn’t know why. He did not appear lazy, but he didn’t do well on assignments. The only thing about him which caught my attention were his eyes.

In the spring my students created Power Point presentations for their research projects about assassinations in preparation for reading The Tragedy of Julius Caesar. Each time our class went to the library to work on their papers, Charles appeared to be working, but when he turned in portions of his assignment, he had little or nothing written. As the due date drew nearer and he still had nothing competed, I stopped him one day and I asked, “Charles will you meet me for lunch in my classroom today? You have some needs for your research, and I want to talk to you about it. Bring your lunch. See you later.” He smiled and left for his next class. At lunch that day, I gathered my things for lunch and in walked Charles. He looked a little uncomfortable, so I set my things down on a student desk. He sat his things down on another desk next to mine. We ate our lunch together –I shared my chips because I said I didn’t want them, but I really wanted to make friends with him. Finally, I asked him what did he think was the real problem with his research? He shyly whispered, “I don’t know.”

I replied, “I don’t know is not really an answer. Will you try to put into words a feeling about your lack of work?” He just shrugged and his beautiful eyes mirrored his internal pain.

A feeling of panic coursed through my body. I thought to myself, “How do I get his attention? How do I show him?” I prayed a small prayer of deep supplication – Lord please give me wisdom. I don’t know anything about the needs of this child, yet he’s waiting on an answer. (If anyone ever wants to argue about prayer being removed from school, I could carry my own in that debate. As long as there are teachers and students, prayer prevails.) I thought to myself. What would I do if I wanted to know something about a topic about which I have no prior knowledge? I could send him to the library then I could eat what was left of my lunch in peace. I could suggest he get on the internet at home and then I could feel as he was responsible for his own work. Wait, I don’t know if he has a computer. I could ask for the advice of another teacher and get back to Charles in a couple of days when I had a better answer. All of these things were options, but Charles was waiting on an answer now – not in a couple of days. I looked behind Charles at my bookshelf of garage sale purchased books which I hoped one day would come in handy. Today seemed like the day. I went to my shelf and got this big book of 20^th Century Occurrences. As I lifted the hug book from the shelf, I had immediate doubts about its ability to help, but I had to start somewhere. I asked him, “Charles, do you know anything about your topic?”

He replied with more force than I had ever heard from him, “I don’t even know where to look!” I was astonished. I thought I had taught and shown and modeled methods of research. Somehow it didn’t connect. How could I have worked so hard with such poor results? My professors in college said that kids don’t fail; teachers fail students because they don’t meet the students’ needs. So, I sat beside him and we looked in the index for his topic. I don’t even remember what his topic was. Suddenly, he jerked his head around, looked me straight in the eye, and grinned the biggest grin I have ever seen. His eyes gleamed!. He said is that all there is to it?

I said, “Is that all there is to what? We simply looked in the index. At that moment, a memory hit me like a ton of bricks.

I remembered being in his shoes and my sophomore English teacher saying, “just take notes from the source. Don’t write everything down. Then write your research paper.” I remembered how helpless and lost I felt. If she would have sat with me for a few minutes, when it was obvious I did not understand, I think I would have comprehended more about what I was supposed to do. However, twenty-five years after my experience, Charles’ synapses fired; his dendrites connected, and he knew what he needed to do. He matured before my eyes!

After that day, his grades increased. He passed sophomore English. He never failed another high school class. Recently, he graduated from college. I see him from time-to-time. His eyes are still catlike and piercing, but now instead of being a timid non-speaker, he is a quiet, articulate young man with a future before him. It was nothing I did. I just happened to see the miracle unfold in front of me. I am glad I paid attention to his needs.

Thank you

I thank you all for the affirming comments you left for me today. I NEEDED to hear them. In my life at school, we receive few pats on the back. The people I work with appear to believe that just by loving without saying I love you is OK. It is just expected that we do well. In my personal life, I receive I love yous from my "people". Hearing nice things with suggestions and acknowledgment from professional people I respect means more to me than you know. Thank you all.

My Name

They tell me I am named after a sweaty shoe. From what I understand, I had no name and the lady who handled the birth certificates was adamant I had to have a name. So, my mom, dad, and grandmother were discussing names. Gran pulled her shoe off and the label inside said "Jolene". All three of them looked at each other and said, "How about Jolyn?: one word?" They all agreed; the birth certificate lady was satisfied, and I went home with a moniker which was unusual. I hope I haven't been too much of a pain to my family. But, beeing named after a sweaty shoe is a little disconcerting.

What is your gift and how do you use it?

What is your gift and how do you use it?

This is a question I’ve pondered for a long, long, time. I’ve been through classes; I’ve prayed; I’ve mused. I’ve come to the conclusion that my gifts are constancy, dependability, and loyalty. I am the same whether you see me at church or at a Ranger’s game. I’m loyal to a fault; you can depend on it. I don’t understand disloyalty. I don’t understand saying something and not meaning it. I take these types of things seriously. The good thing is my husband and I are on the same page. We are loyal to each other and to others. However, when people we encounter don’t live up to our loyalty, it hurts.

Stellaluna

I think bringing some of the things I've learned this summer back to my home campus will be interesting. It's like going to church camp and being so excited and then coming home and no one feels the same excitement. For one thing, they weren't there to experience the same things, and another thing is translating and actually using the things I've learned instead of being caught up in the hustle and bustle and doing the same things I've been doing for a long time.
Sharing with strong personalities who apparently are not interested in different strategies or not new but a twist on some of the old, will be interesting. Also, I've learned so much this summer that I'm concerned I'll try to incorporate bits and pieces from everything and it will be a hodge podge. I'll just have to rely on my friends here to keep me on track.

Sad

I understand wanting to be alone when I am sad. Sometimes I just need a little time. When I don't have time to process what I need to do, I end up going along and it doesn't seem to be authentic. Sometimes, though, I must be encouraged to join the group for my own good or I'll end up being a hermit. So, as my grandmother used to say, "Moderation in all things."

Inside Out Chapters 6-7

Chapter six refers to voice. The AP graders indicate the long to hear a student's authentic voice as they read through the myriad of papers they read from students around the country each summer. I have taught minilessons on voice from a book I have entitled Voice Lessons. I find the activities in that book good bell ringers. Chapter 6 from Inside Out also offers concrete examples of methods to improve a student's voice in their writing. Some suggestions focus on hearing all the voices and different exercises for tuning your voice.
Chapter seven refers to gaining a sense of audience. One thing that I have thought of before but I never really worried about was who my students write for - me. I want them to write for a variety of audiences. And I want them to write with confidence.

Good "hands on" advice from this book will assist me in my teaching practice.

Chicken Sunday

I would love to live in the setting of Patricia Polacco's book Chicken Sunday. I remember growing up and Sundays were special. When we stayed with my grandparents, we would come home from church and eat Sunday lunch. My grandmother cooked "country". It was delicious. We had fried okra, fried squash, fresh tomatoes, red beans,cornbread, cold iced tea, and peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream for dessert. My brother and I were never relegated to the children's table. We were able to participate in the family conversation. I can still remember by Pa laughing and telling stories about people in the church and the community. I also hear him saying, "Mama. How about a little dessert?" I really miss those days.

Evolution of Dance

Response to the first five chapters of Inside Out

Inside Out: Strategies for Teaching Writing should be on every secondary teacher's desk. The book should be filled with highlighting and Post-it notes. I have read the first five chapters of the book, and I find many already prepared useful lessons. The lessons are relevant for what I want to do with my kids. One of the lessons would work wonderfully with the teaching demonstration we participated in today about our names. People's names are something with which I struggle. I think the ice-breakers and the naming activities will enable me to connect with my students more quickly and for the students to connect more readily too.
At this time, I'm completing Chapter 5 which concerns journals. In the past I've had my kids write in journals and prepare journals. Sometimes I burn out and don't want to continue with them. This chapter gave practical examples of grading and responding. I needed these ideas. I like the honesty the writers of the book include. For instance, the author included his distaste for responding to the journals sometimes and how he can hand it over to student responders for a different perspective. He also gives advice to quick grade with a simple grading scale of 1-5 or checks.
Overall, this is a practical book with practical suggestions I'll definitely use.

Edited Charles

Charles

He had the most beautiful, piercing, catlike eyes. He struggled valiantly with words. His stilted vocabulary shrank to infinitesimal proportions, and I believed him to have almost no words with which to express himself, especially when I asked him a question during class. He was quiet and respectful with a stillness about him which made me wonder what he was thinking. He was in my sophomore English class. With great effort he struggled to pass and I really didn’t know why. He did not appear lazy, but he didn’t do well on assignments. The only thing about him which caught my attention were his eyes.

In the spring my students created Power Point presentations for their research projects about assassinations in preparation for reading The Tragedy of Julius Caesar. Each time our class went to the library to work on their papers, Charles appeared to be working, but when he turned in portions of his assignment, he had little or nothing written. As the due date drew nearer and he still had nothing competed, I stopped him one day and I asked, “Charles will you meet me for lunch in my classroom today? You have some needs for your research, and I want to talk to you about it. Bring your lunch. See you later.” He smiled and left for his next class. At lunch that day, I gathered my things for lunch and in walked Charles. He looked a little uncomfortable, so I set my things down on a student desk. He sat his things down on another desk next to mine. We ate our lunch together –I shared my chips because I said I didn’t want them, but I really wanted to make friends with him. (The way to any male’s heart is through their stomachs – correct?). Finally, I asked him what did he think was the real problem with his research? He shyly whispered, “I don’t know.”

I replied, “I don’t know is not really an answer. Will you try to put into words a feeling about your lack of work?” He shrugged and his beautiful eyes mirrored his internal pain.

A feeling of panic coursed through my body. I thought to myself, “How do I get his attention? How do I show him?” I prayed a small prayer of deep supplication – Lord please give me wisdom. I don’t know anything about the needs of this child, yet he’s waiting on an answer. (If anyone ever wants to argue about prayer being removed from school, I could carry my own in that debate. As long as there are teachers and students, prayer prevails.) I thought to myself. What would I do if I wanted to know something about a topic about which I have no prior knowledge? I could send him to the library then I could eat what was left of my lunch in peace. I could suggest he get on the internet at home and then I could feel as he was responsible for his own work. Wait, I don’t know if he has a computer. I could ask for the advice of another teacher and get back to Charles in a couple of days when I had a better answer. All of these things were options, but Charles was waiting on an answer now – not in a couple of days. I looked behind Charles at my bookshelf of garage sale purchased books which I hoped one day would come in handy. Today seemed like the day. I went to my shelf and got this big book of 20^th Century Occurrences. As I lifted the hug book from the shelf, I had immediate doubts about its ability to help, but I had to start somewhere. I asked him, “Charles, do you know anything about your topic?”

He replied with more force than I had ever heard from him, “I don’t even know where to look!”. I was astonished. I thought I had taught and shown and modeled methods of research. Somehow it didn’t connect. How could I have worked so hard with such poor results? My professors in college said that kids don’t fail; teachers fail the student because they don’t meet the students’ needs. So, I sat beside him and we looked in the index for his topic. I don’t even remember what his topic was. Suddenly and I mean suddenly, he jerked his head around, looked me straight in the eye, and grinned the biggest grin I have ever seen. His eyes gleamed!. He said is that all there is to it?

I said, “Is that all there is to what? We simply looked in the index. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

I remembered being in his shoes and my sophomore English teacher saying, “just take notes from the source. Don’t write everything down. Then write your research paper.” I remembered how helpless and lost I felt. If she would have sat with me for a few minutes, when it was obvious I did not understand, I think I would have comprehended more about what I was supposed to do. However, twenty-five years after my experience, Charles’ synapses fired; his dendrites connected, and he knew what he needed to do. He matured before my eyes!

Honestly, after that day, his grades increased. He passed sophomore English. He never failed another high school class. Recently, he graduated from college. I see him from time-to-time. His eyes are still catlike and piercing, but now instead of being a timid non speaker, he is a quiet, articulate young man with a future before him. It was nothing I did. I just happened to see the miracle unfold in front of me. I am glad I paid attention to his needs.

My River Legacy Thoughts

I enjoyed today a great deal. Phyllis at the center said that nature is not something we go to; we are nature. I had never thought of it this way.

Another thought. As we were walking down the winding paths through the vegetation at River Legacy Park, I thought about how I love order. If you know me, you will know that although I love order, it is an unattainable goal. But I do love straight lines. In fact, this probably sounds quite outrageous, but I love the tile in my house because of the orderliness of the pattern. I was amazed as the tile layer placed the tiles. Every tile went down in a particular way. I sometimes simply look at my tile, amidst the clutter of my house, and I calm down.

Back to my River Legacy thoughts - At first glance, the overgrown grass and plants appeared chaotic. Walking along, talking to new friends, I began to notice an order to the plants and trees. Nothing was out of place although nothing was in a straight line! It made me wonder about how I love straight lines and how we've lived in cities for so long that it seems the only acceptable order of plants and trees is the suburban model. Perfectly manicured lawns with exactly straight lines. Suddenly it came to me, we like the order of our suburban homes because we have control of how it looks. Within an area of natural growth like River Legacy Park, little is under our control if we let it grow and develop as God intended. The river will change course as the seasons change, plants will grow and die as needed for the ecosystem adaptation, and trees will die when they reach the end of their lifespan. All is in order if we let it be.

I found as much peace in the park as I do in my house. In fact I believe I was more at peace this morning than I have been in a long time. River Legacy Park is the perfect name for what I want to leave for my family and students. I need to make sure I am a good steward of what has been given to me, and enjoy the peace I've found today.

My Story Board

A Beautiful Life

Partypicktowners

Joyce Armstrong Carroll

I've used this strategy for revision many times. It is quite helpful to students who actually go through the process. It is nice to have an affirmation of a practice I know I stole from somewhere. :) My daughter used this practice in her 9th grade honors English class ten years ago. She still refers to how it helped her be a better writer. The color coding helps to actually find the clues and move through something tangible instead of being told to remove all be verbs. The colors and the search assist the student to revise and improve their work more effectively.

Skeletons

Once again, an article I can do something with when I return to school. I am the most guilty of editing and telling the kids to edit and revise. Showing them what I think then expecting them to read my mind. This article gave me some really good ideas.

Mozartian, Beethovian,,,

One of my TEKS refers to moving to no formulaic writing by the end of the tenth grade year. While I believe some writing must follow a bit of formula in order to convey ideas logically, writing is not a process that everyone follows exactly. Once a writer has confidence in his basic skills, the next layer follows. Some of the best papers the AP readers get to read are not only academically sound and grammatically correct, but they have voice and they are entertaining. That is what I want my kids to learn.

Theory, Politics...

The ideas for inviting kids to the "writing arena" is intriguing and something I am looking into more. I want my students to feel able to write without all the fear and trepidation attached to it now. They have to write for a couple of major tests and for many assignments over the course of their education, but they must write for the world audience for the rest of their lives. If they hate it, they won't do it. I want them engaged and finding relevance.

Tolerating Intolerance

Wow! This article, written from the heart by a seasoned instructor, had me pondering for a few minutes. I've had a couple of situations like this over the years, but since I teach high school students and not adults, I feel less inclined to have students share the same type of controversial opinion. I believe everyone should form opinions and be able to back them up with evidence supporting their opinion, but my students are still a little to emotional to be able to conduct themselves in the mature fashion these students conducted themselves. However, that does sound, and I guess it is, hypocritical if I want to foster critical thinking and inquiry. I'm going to have ponder some more on this.

Orpheus to Eurydice on Their Way out of Hades

Orpheus to Eurydice on Their Way out of Hades

To Unwritten Natasha Bedingfield

Triumph at the end of the journey
So close we can almost taste it

Let go of all your fears
You’ll feel the rain on your skin
We will feel it together
But only you can follow me
No one else, no one else
Can make it all the way out

Drench our life in our journey
We’ll live our lives with arms wide open

To the years where our book begins
Sadly, we’ll never feel the rain
No one else will feel it for us
Only I could get us out
No one else, no one else
I’ll never hear the words from your lips
The broken dreams of words unspoken
My life will be closed not open
This where my life ends
Our life is over
Our life is over
Our life is over.

NWP Mr. Blau

I knew little about the philosophy of the National Writing Project before reading this article. Now, not only do I have to worry about regular sin in my life, I have to worry about the sin of not fulfilling the National Writing Project ideals. My guilt grows. But how else do I learn? I constantly go through “questioning and self-examination” a bout my teaching and whether or not it is relevant. I constantly agonize over whether or not I’ve done my best or have I simply made do. I want the best for my students.

I can see myself incorporating a great deal of what we learning in my classroom. I plan to share with my colleagues techniques of learned this summer. I hope I will be able to impart to them the value the writing instead of only the final product

When Mr. Blau opines “we continue to teach every year with equal anticipation because we are hoping to finally get it right” I completely understand what he speaks about. Every year I plan some different lessons and learning acitivities to perhaps get to the “ heart of the matter” I’m sure this year, when school begins, I will be a little bit closer to the ideal. I’m looking forward to it.

Charles

Charles

He had the most beautiful, piercing, catlike eyes. He struggled so much with words. His vocabulary was limited. His stilted vocabulary shrank to infinitesimal proportions, and I believed him to have almost no words with which to express himself, especially when I asked him a question during class. He was quiet and respectful with a stillness about him which made me wonder what he was thinking. He was in my sophomore English class. He struggled to pass and I really didn’t know why. He wasn’t lazy, but he didn’t do well on assignments. The only thing about him which caught my attention were his eyes.

In the spring my students created Power Point presentations for their research projects. Courtney appeared to be working, but when he turned in portions of his assignment, he had little or nothing written. As the due date drew nearer and he still had nothing competed, I requested he stay with me at lunch to at least write something down for a grade. He could not fail because he did nothing. Somehow he believed me and stayed. He and I ate our lunch together –I shared my chips because I said I didn’t want them, but I really wanted to make friends with him. (The way to any male’s heart is through their stomachs – correct?). I asked him what did he think was the real problem? He said he didn’t know. I told him that was not really an answer. Could he put any other words together? He just shrugged.

A feeling of panic coursed through my body. I thought to myself, “How do I get his attention? How do I show him?” I prayed a small prayer of deep supplication – Lord please give me wisdom. I don’t know anything about the needs of this child, yet he’s waiting on an answer. (If anyone ever wants to argue about prayer being removed from school, I could carry my own in that debate. As long as there are teachers and students, prayer prevails.) I thought to myself. What would I do if I wanted to know something about a topic about which I have no prior knowledge? I could send him to the library then I could eat what was left of my lunch in peace. I could suggest he get on the internet at home and then I could feel as he was responsible for his own work. Wait, I don’t know if he has a computer. I could ask for the advice of another teacher and get back to Charles in a couple of days when I had a better answer. All of these things were options, but Charles was waiting on an answer now – not in a couple of days. I looked behind Charles at my bookshelf of garage sale purchased books which I hoped one day would come in handy. Today seemed like the day. I went to my shelf and got this big book of 20^th Century Occurrences. As I lifted the hug book from the shelf, I had immediate doubts about its ability to help, but I had to start somewhere. I asked him, “Charles, do you know anything about your topic?” He told me he didn’t even know where to look. I was astonished. I thought I had taught and shown and modeled. Somehow it didn’t connect. I sat beside him and we looked in the index for his topic. I don’t even remember what it was. Suddenly and I mean suddenly, he jerked his head around, looked me straight in the eye, and grinned the biggest grin I have ever seen. He said is that all there is to it? I said to what? We simply looked in the index. He said he didn’t even know what to look for. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I remembered being in his shoes and the teacher saying, “just take notes from the source. Don’t write everything down. Then write your research paper.” I guess at that moment his synapses fired and the dendrites connected and he knew what to do.

Honestly, after that day, his grades increased. He passed the class. He never failed another high school class. Recently, he graduated from college. I see him from time to time. He is a handsome young man with a future before him. It was nothing I did. I just happened to see the miracle unfold in front of me.

Technology and Teaching English

Technology is a great teaching tool when the learner does not have to jump over the barrier of learning the technology. If a student easily uses a word processor, the editing features eliminate the fears of making mistakes because they can be so easily repaired. However, when the technology becomes the enemy is when the program doesn't work in the way the user hopes it will. Then the teaching moments are lost amidst much weeping and gnashing of teeth.

The article was a pretty good fortune teller of the advancement of technology.

Whose Writing is it...

Anytime a person practices, a little bit of the stage fright wears off. As little kids, they are praised for squiggly lines meaning something. As they get older, they must complete more higher level thinking skill types of activities and it is difficult. The fun is gone. Perhaps it's because they want affirmation. Perhaps it's because they only see that writing is a never ending process. For those of us who are goal oriented, that is a difficult concept - to know that it is a never ending process.

Teachers as Writers

I think writing with my students is an honorable goal. I will even try more of it next year. Writing every time my students do is something I probably won't do. I'm just trying to be honest.However, I think the act of writing with the students to see what I really asked them to do is something I'm really going to work on next year. I want to incorporate more authentic writing into my student's assignments and integrate it into literary analysis.

What's in My Purse?

I reached into my purse and pulled out my wallet. It instantly reminded me of Christmas. Why Christmas? Well, since Stefanie has been old enough to go shop with her dad, they take a special day during Christmas to shop for me. Although getting what they shop for is cool because I really like presents, the best part for me is the relationship they have developed. They like doing things together. I love it because Tracy has never been the kind of dad who says I don't want to do "girl" stuff. He is interested in what Stefanie is interested in. He'll go through the malls at Christmas struggling through the crowds with her. He takes his time and doesn't grouse when she tries on another pair of shoes. She hardly has any shoes; bless her heart. Not only does he do "girl" stuff, he has guided her interests in more traditionally male activities too. Not many other girls get to kill their first deer and get the ceremonial blood wiped on her face because it was her first kill. I don't understand that, but it is a bond that can't be broken between them. I don't think her interest is killing particularly, but the self-confidence she developed by completing an arduous task, guided by her father is invaluable. She is a strong woman because of the guidance she has always received from her dad.
So, through the action of pulling out my Brighton wallet, I went all the way through Stef's childhood to adulthood in 10 minutes with her great dad.

Teacher Research

I really liked this article. I wish I would have been keeping a journal for my entire teaching career. I see so many things I want to observe. For instance I notice when I play music in my classroom I can elicit different responses from my kids based on the genre of music I play. Enya calms people down. Beastie Boys revs them up. I also understood about her reference to her mistakces. Sometimes when I make a mistake I joke it off. Sometimes we all really learn from my mistakes. Research from observations is so much more effective than research done in a dank library.