The times they are a-changin'

Graduation was this past weekend. It was a long ceremony, but I was happy to be there. I love seeing their smiles as they proudly and nervously cross the stage, leaving behind childhood. One of my former students was the valedictorian, and gave quite a wonderful speech. He talked about all the mixed-up emotions he’s feeling right now as he gets ready to embark on this new phase of his life: happy, sad, excited, nostalgic, etc. But there was also one emotion he said he hadn’t shared with anyone before: he’s scared.

Change is most certainly a scary thing. I too am at a point where big things are changing in my life, and I’m anxious and terrified. Terrified of encountering rejection, of hating where I end up, of knowing what I want but not being able to grasp it.

Growing up, my life was always so stable that change was one of the things I feared most. I viewed it as a swear word, a circumstance to be avoided and resisted. As I got older, I learned to look at it in a more positive light. When graduating college, I was certainly sad to leave behind a place and people I loved so dearly, but also excited that I would finally be pursuing the career that I had dreamed of and worked towards for so long. I’m trying to remember that feeling now, that feeling of possibilities in various facets of my life.

I saw that excitement in my students’ faces the other day, ready for bigger and better things. I hugged them and wished them well, and I hoped that we’ve helped prepare them to face the world. There are some who I am confident will be spectacular, and some who I worry about, especially if life has already been difficult for them. I know that I’ve been well-prepared to face life’s challenges, and I know that I have a family and friends that are there to help me along the way. I’m hopeful that, as I prepare to turn a quarter of a century old and another year wiser, I too will be on to bigger and better things. And who knows? There may yet be some detours along the way. But I am going to do my best to hang on to that feeling of hope.

Last week

I know everyone’s been writing about this and talking about it for the past week. And I know you’re probably terribly tired of it by this point. So don’t worry, I won’t resent you if you stop reading now. But I guess I need this to be part of my healing process.

Last Monday I went to the Boston Marathon for the first time in years. I think the last time was when I went to see my elementary school teacher run in it. But every other year for my whole life I’ve watched it on TV. After all, when you grow up in Massachusetts, it’s a beloved tradition. Every year you hear about the inspirational stories, hear the stories of great marathons past, make bets on whether the winner will be from Kenya or Ethiopia, and laugh at the funny costumes. We even refer to the holiday of Patriot’s Day as “Marathon Monday.” My college didn’t give us the day off, and I’d always grumble about having to be in class when I ought to have been watching the marathon. This year I decided it was high time I go watch in person, and I recruited a friend to come with me.

We went to Kenmore Square, a mile from the finish line, beginning the morning by sharing a doughnut (because let’s face it, there’s nothing like watching other people exercise to make you want to eat junk food. Especially Dunkie’s). For the next few hours we clapped and cheered for the elite athletes and ordinary folks. Whenever someone struggled to keep going, everyone started telling them, “You can do it! Keep running!” and whooped when they started picking up those feet again. When one man started swaying, on the verge of passing out, and fellow runner crossed over and put an arm around him, walking the man over to a police officer to get help. And yes, there were some great costumes—fairies, a bumblebee, superheroes, etc. The day was a great celebration, as it was always meant to be, and it was bringing out the best in people.

We left at 1:30, after being there since 10. After a little stop in Park Street (yes, to visit Brattle Bookshop….couldn’t help myself), I headed for my home outside the city. Soon after I got back, the friend I’d spent the day with texted me about the explosion at the finish line. I hurriedly turned on the TV, horrified.

When it was becoming clear that these were attacks, I became increasingly upset. I spent the next two days watching the news, crying, and checking in with friends and family so we could all make sure everyone was okay. And then on Friday, the horror hit again with full force. I was completely shaken up, and I felt violated. How could someone do this? At an event so dear to my heart? On a street I’ve walked down a thousand times in the city that I love? To people who were doing just what I’d been doing that same day?

I don’t need to relive for you all of the events of that week. But I am grateful that it was school vacation and I was able to spend time with some people that I love who helped me work through my emotions and anxiety, then distracted me with talk of all the good and wonderful things in this life. And I am extraordinarily proud of the way the good people of Massachusetts responded to the horrific events. From running after the finish line to the hospital to give blood, to opening up their homes to the stranded, to running towards the blast to help the injured, to pledging to not let this incident scare them away next year, the bravery and kindness shown was beautiful.

As we move forward, I hope that the lessons learned don’t fade quickly, as they often seem wont to do. And I hope that people do not condemn an entire religion for the acts of a couple individuals. This was something I had thankfully been addressing with my sophomores the week before vacation as they began reading The Kite Runner, and I hope they kept it in mind. I hope that they keep asking me questions so that we can openly discuss our fears and prevent ourselves from giving into them. One of the powers of literature is that it can allow us see ourselves in others, and can help ease our fear and mistrust of that which we previously did not understand. And I hope that Boston, and all those affected both directly and indirectly, can begin to heal together.

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WBUR posted this article on their website. It discusses why we so often feel the need to write about our connections to traumatic events. Many thanks to Ms. K for showing me this!

Week(s) in review

Some random thoughts on recent teaching experiences:

Recently, when playing music while the students worked, Stevie Wonder came on my iTunes. One student remarked, "My dad listens to this kind of music." Thanks, kid, thanks a lot.

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I missed three days of school this past week. The first two were planned, as it was Rosh Hashanah. That was fine, because I actually knew ahead of time who my sub would be, so I was able to prep her ahead of time. And since I know her to be an intelligent person, I didn't have to dumb down my lesson plans like I normally do. Subs tend to be unpredictable--I've had a couple do exactly what I asked and they left me a full report of the classes, but I've also had plenty who have messed things up even when I thought my plans were idiot-proof. So thank goodness that was not an issue for these days! The next day, however, was another story......I got super sick over Rosh Hashanah (it really ruined a lot of the holiday for me), and had to stay out on Wednesday. I would have just sucked it up, but I had a fever and decided that would not be wise. And of course, I ended up with a different sub, and all of my classes said, "That lady was craaazy....." When even the good kids say that, and then follow up their claim by informing me that she said they couldn't peer edit each other's papers but they could text, you gotta believe them. Oy.

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I was at the grocery store yesterday in the town where I work before heading to a little dinner party at a coworker's home (well, former coworker--it was her last day before retirement!). I then heard someone say, "Ms. -----!" It was one of my students (who I also had two years ago), with his little baby in the shopping cart. I knew his girlfriend had had a baby last year, but I wasn't quite ready for the reality of meeting a student's child. But I asked about the baby, touched his precious little head, and felt my heart warm when he smiled at me. Still, it terrifies me when I see kids having kids. I don't think these students realize just how much their teachers worry about them. All the things they go through, especially outside of school.....it reminds me how lucky I was to have such a great and comfortable upbringing. I wish with all my heart I could ensure that my students have the same, but I can't. I do the best I can for them in school, but I worry about what happens afterwards.

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I'm learning my students' personalities now. Some pain-in-the-asses have emerged, but I'm definitely working to shut that behavior down quickly this year. But some of the kids are just so cute. A couple of the sophomore boys are so sweet and earnest, and I have this one girl who is so tiny and adorable, and she always says hello and goodbye to me. Talking to her makes me think of puppies and Lisa Frank notebooks. I also had a nice chat with one of my seniors recently when she stayed after school to bandy around ideas for her college essay. After that discussion, we just talked about life for a while, with her telling me stories about herself and asking me things about college and such. It's nice when students want to connect with their teachers, when they are able to see us as more than taskmasters.

Crepes of Wrath

Now that I am no longer living with my parents, I need to learn how to cook. I'll admit, I haven't done a heck of a lot of it thus far, but hey, baby steps. (I did, however, buy an insanely cute apron for myself. Hopefully it'll help with my confidence.) I enjoy baking, largely because I love the end result (I have a ginormous sweet tooth), but also because it is so exact. All I need to do is follow the recipe, and voila! all is well. I have tweaked things a bit, but I like the security of being able to just do precisely what I'm told. Cooking, however, requires a lot more juggling and leaves a lot of room for interpretation. As an English teacher, I love having room for interpretation when it comes to literature, but it scares the bejeezus out of me in cooking, as I am terrified of screwing everything up.

Despite my irrational worries, I know that I have to learn. Both of my parents are great cooks (and bakers, for that matter), and I'm hoping that with some practice, I'll discover that I've got the cooking gene, or that I'll at least become competent. I've made chicken and managed not to die, so I feel like, at this early stage, that that's a pretty good sign. Last week, I made fettuccine alfredo--yum! I got the recipe from a blog called Crepes of Wrath (love the name), and I really want to try some of her other recipes (this weekend: peanut butter pancakes. So. Excited.).

If you have any other suggestions for food blogs and whatnot, feel free to leave a comment! But just a warning: If you suggest Rachael Ray, I will reach through my computer and smack you.

The only thing we have to fear...is fear of public speaking.

Jerry Seinfeld said, “According to most studies, people's number one fear is public speaking. Number two is death. Death is number two. Does that sound right? This means to the average person, if you go to a funeral, you're better off in the casket than doing the eulogy.” Now I don’t know about all of you, but public speaking scares the bejeezus out of me. Maybe not as much as death, but it’s still frightening. So then why do I teach? Well, for some reason, speaking in front of a group of kids is less scary to me, at least after the first week or so. But put me in front of a group of adults, whether it’s a speech or just my thoughts during a faculty meeting, and I can actually feel my heart trying to escape my chest.

Despite this fear, I have forced myself to speak in public on some occasions. After all, facing your fears can make you feel more powerful and confident, and most of us could certainly use a little dose of that. I also had practice when I was growing up—I attended a charter school where public speaking was a requirement. Each year, students had to complete and present an “exhibition of mastery”—a project on a particular subject for which we wrote a paper and created some sort of a visual aid, then presented to our classmates and a couple of teachers. As much as I may not have been such a fan of this at the time, I do recognize and appreciate the goal—to make public speaking more of a habit in order to make us more skilled and comfortable in this area.

Last year, I observed that the public speaking skills of my students were, overall, quite lacking. At our school, there is a speech requirement for junior year English, but no other public speaking requirements in the rest of the curriculum. This year, I have vowed to make public speaking a little more common in my classes. Some of the presentations will be for large grades, while others will just be part of class routines. There are lots of opportunities that I need to exploit. For example, what I’ve done a couple of times already and will continue to do is have students teach each other important information. When I need to discuss some historical background for a book, how many students are going to want to listen to me lecture about it? Yeah, I’m hearing the crickets too. It’s a lot better to have them look at the information, decide what’s important about it, and create posters that they then use to teach their classmates about a particular subject. Another opportunity is when students create little character posters or something of the sort, they will need to present them to their classmates. When a couple of my classes recently presented propaganda posters they created, I made the presentation worth 5 points out of 15 on the rubric. Not only did they have to make their presentations informative, but they also had to speak and present themselves well—stand up straight, hands out of pockets, make eye contact, and speak up. When I handed back the grades, I heard a couple of students expressing their outrage that they had been docked a point or half a point for failing to do one of those things. How could something so small matter?! Well, I want to teach them that how you present information is almost as important as the information itself. After all, when they go to interview for colleges or jobs someday, no one will take them seriously if they are slouching, looking down, or mumbling. This is about more than just a little grade.

Throughout the year, I will continue to look for ways to get students to face their fear of standing in front of their peers and speaking. I’ll also make them participate more during class discussions, whether they want to or not. Yes, some of them will despise me for all of this, but like I said, it’s an important life skill. So many of them have such wonderful ideas, but if they can’t express them, then those thoughts will never be able to be appreciated like they deserve to be, and that would truly be a shame. I want my students to feel confident in themselves and to have a voice.

 And if any of you have suggestions or thoughts on incorporating public speaking into the classroom, please feel free to share!