Thursday, August 2, 2018

Blog Reflection 4: Number Poem

Number Poem

Base your number poem on a sequence of numbers important to you—a social Security number, a zip code, a date (written in numerals: e.g., 10-31-1924), an address, telephone number, lucky numbers… The sequence you choose sets the pattern of syllables for you poem.

Step 1. Select a sequence of numbers important to you.

Step 2. To get language for your poem, jot down images and scenes that connect with you number: people, faces, actions, moments, scenes. Then, lay out your pattern of lines and syllables, as above. Work “the meat” of your jottings into your pattern, changing language as necessary to fit the counts. In short, connect content and form.

Examples:

(LINE #)
(Syllables)
CALL
(1)
XXXXXX
Tacked alongside this phone
(2)
XXX
a friend’s face.
(3)
XXXXXX
I cannot say his name
(4)
XXXX
yet know him well.
(5)
XXXXXXXXXX
One night he disappeared, as light from fire,
(6)
XXXXXXX
went out for good. Still, I’ll
(7)
XXXXX
know him when he calls.




PHONE

If you
Would like to know my phone number, you Will need to
Count the syllables in each sentence. With what you get there


PLEASE REMEMBER

If the phone rings after midnight, with a lonesome voice calling to
you, please remember there is
someone far from home tonight who needs your words of friendship.
--Sadie Tirmizi (444-4786)


NIGHT SOUNDS
And now
The cricket chirps Outside my door again—
His song will pierce my thoughts and dreams Tonight.
--Glynn Bridgewater


775-9184

The phone sits here, black and hard
As charcoal waiting to flame when you call me up
And your words begin their hot, bright fires. Well,
Nothing’s burning now at this end. Afraid? Afraid?
--Robert King

Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Day 3 Blog reflection

Taboo Words is a wonderful one shot challenge that works for all ages. Your task is to write a story about the picture below without using the words: SAND, WATER, BLUE


Morning reflection Day 3

TURF FEINZ RIP RichD Dancing in the Rain Oakland Street/Yak Films

Classroom Environment Fail

This year I decided to really go all out in decorating my classroom. I'm not saying I'm on a Pinterest-worthy level, but it looks homey and comfortable I got some bouncy chairs and butterfly chairs and small rugs.  One of the highlights of my new decor was the lighting. I suffer from migraines and coincidentally noticed that my students hate the florescent lights, so I decked out the room with Christmas lights-galore and lots of lamps.

Headache-free teacher and homey classroom- end of story, right? I typically kept the main light in the front of the classroom off so that we could better see the SmartBoard screen. The back light remained on so that students would be able to see their work. This sometimes caused what can only be referred to as the Lighting Wars. "Turn that one off!" one student would yell. "No!! It's too dark in here!!" another would retort. It was like a sitcom. I'd be teaching and all of sudden complete darkness would surround me.

One day, I took a rare bathroom break because I had other teachers supporting me in the room. As a I re-entered the room, a student with a heart for justice was on a tirade about these "stupid Christmas lights" and how they were a "waste of energy messing up the planet..." He unplugged every single lamp or string of lights in the room, sat back in his chair, looked at me and said, "I don't know what the point of all this is anyway!"

My attempt at Domain -2ing my room up had burst into flames. I couldn't decide whether to go the Democracy or Dictator route. I split the difference. I explained that the added lights were supposed to create a more comforting feel to OUR room, but that practically speaking, we'd all be able to see what we were doing. "Don't y'all want this room to look nice," one of supporters cried out. I'd forgotten about my original aesthetic mission.  Reluctantly, I re-emerged as the President of semi- democratic republic of room 221. From here on out, only I or a designated light flicker could touch the light-and ultimate lighting decisions would be based on ability to see our work.

Story from another perspective

Today I was late again, thinkin', "... wonder if this lady is going to let me in. She probably doesn't want me in this class anyway." Okay, whatever, I decided to just sit here and do what she wants me to do.

See, I kinda like this class- I feel comfortable in here- it kind of looks like somebody's home. Oddo, she's been alright toward me. Other teachers stay on my case, but I know we are cool overall, unless I really make her lose her patience.

These kids stay arguing over the Christmas lights and other lights. To be honest, I like when all the lights are out because I can put my head down and go to sleep. Today she stepped out to go to something and left us in here with these other teachers. I got mad because I wanted more of the lights off- I was just having a bad day and didn't want to see those bright lights. I got up and decided to flick one of them off. When Oddo walked back in the room, she told me to have a seat.

I just burst out: "Why do we have all these damn lights anyway? You're just wasting energy..."

"Here, I said, "Let me turn them off for you!" I went to them all, one at a time and started ripping out cords. She tried to down play it but I knew it probably made her so mad. She was talking about "I'm disappointed that I stepped out and come back to find students out of their seats." I don't really care. I just want to left alone.

Day Two Reflection: Patrick's Perspective from "What Defines a Good Teacher"


(New Perspective)

I’m the stupid kid, the one who can’t read. The teachers have tried for years to get me to read.  It’s hard putting all the sounds and letters together. I can’t remember what all the words say.  All the other kids know, but I don’t.  My mom will take me with her to go shopping, but I can’t help.  I know what cheese looks like but I don’t know which one says swiss or which one says cheddar. My younger brother knows.  I don’t.

My mom gets me tested all the time.  They don’t know what’s wrong with me.  I want to be like other kids.  I don’t like being different. Sometimes the other kids let me hang around with them, sometimes they don’t.

I hate school. None it makes sense. My teachers try to help but like I said, I’m the stupid kid, the one who can’t read.  I’m in a special class. I get extra reading but it never helps. When I’m not in a special class, I end up in the hallway playing UNO with my TA.

This new reading teacher thinks she can help me.  She’s doing the same thing all the other teachers did. 

It’s so stupid. 

It doesn’t work. 

I can’t remember.  I’m stupid!  Doesn’t she know?!  I can’t read! 

Why is she making she try to learn these sounds? I can’t find the small word!

I’m so mad! This sucks! I can’t do this!

Maybe if I kick this chair over, she’ll kick me out of class and I can get out of here!

----------------------------------------------

She doesn’t kick me out.  She sits me down and talks to me.  Is this a trick?  What’s wrong with this lady?  We talk.  She wants to know why I’m upset and how she can help.  She said she would work on a new plan.  Pffff…I’ll start shuffling my UNO cards.

-------------------------------------------------

Today I read five new words.  Big deal, right?  But it was kind of exciting. I mean I remembered them.  I’m teaching my teacher about scooters.  She knows nothing about them!  How is that possible!  I know everything about scooters.  I’ve been showing her pictures of Razor scooters and all the best grip tape, decks, wheels, forks, and clamps.

To be continued…


Day two


Hmm…I wonder when will we start writing again? It seems all we do is fill out these organizers with a lead, and then give facts about an animal and then a closing. Ok, I know how to do this. We did it once. How many times do we have to practice this?  When will we go back to our regular time when Mrs. Maier writes with us and then we take off and write on our own? I would rather write about tarantulas, hamsters, turtles or something I know about. I miss writing about things that are meaningful to me. I miss writing with my friends and sharing our stories, but most of all I miss choosing what I will write about. So, I ask Mrs. Maier “When will we start writing again?”  She said we were doing writing every day.  These animal stories are writing? Who knew writing could be so awful. This isn’t the writing that I want to do. Can’t wait to get home so I can write what I want to in my journal at home.

Changing the narrative

I first met her at the door in the Quest room. I was standing in the frame with my back facing the hall. She came up and looked over my shoulder asking if Ms. Nelson was there. I snapped at her not to come into “my” classroom. She was unphased, playing along with me. She mentioned the hip hop class and I told her I had signed up. She was really excited. She might be okay. I couldn’t believe how great the class was once it got started. Student led! I went with that theme full on. I talked a lot and got on people’s case if they weren’t doing what they were supposed to do. Larson got the equipment I asked for to be the DJ and let me do alternatives to the assignments. She let me use her computer to work on the music and trusted me with keys to her office. That hadn’t happened before. She never yelled at me or got on my case for not doing something. I was always the kid in trouble. My home life is really hard and jail has definitely happened. I was actually in jail two days before our final performance. Larson called and asked after me. Everyone was excited that I got out in time. This class really made a difference for me. I even called places to try to get us gigs for money. Reenah asked me to volunteer at her new theatre and will pay me to DJ for her events. Who knows, maybe this will be something.

Day 2 Blog reflection

Take another look at the story you wrote about your classroom from yesterday. Rewrite that story from another person's perspective. Perhaps from the perspective of a student you wrote about, or an administrator watching, or perhaps a co-teacher. Have fun!

Morning reflection Day 2

I am not racist by Joyner Lucas

Monday, July 30, 2018

Day 1/Day 2: Blog post/Creative nonfiction/Story about a student



NOTE: This is a revision of an earlier piece I wrote thinking that it might develop into a possible research piece for the National Writing Project or an article for NYSEC. Certainly, it was a Creative Writing effort at the time for the 3-week GVWP Summer Institute.
I ran into Martin's father (a former colleague who taught science), while he was substitute teaching this year at SOTA. He shared with me Martin's gratitude for all that he learned about writing while at SOTA. I thanked him and told him Martin was like a son to me--a perfect gentleman and always an inspiration. Mr. Wolf was visibly touched. Martin is successfully traveling and doing graduate research work in the sciences right now, but will always be one of the"student" writers I most respect and admire.

Here is my personal narrative about him from a few years ago:

                                                    Science Friday
Martin Wolf was School of the Art’s very own Bill Nye the Science Guy. He even resembled Bill Nye—tall, lanky, dark-haired, occasionally wearing a bow-tie to complement his neatly ironed button down shirt. In every way Martin was the epitome of a budding scientist, and he chose to practice his passion by honoring his friends and my home room students to “Science Fridays,” a series of experiments and presentations designed to impress us all with the awesome power of science.

Recently I emailed Martin regarding these experiments because I wanted to write about them, but felt that, not being scientifically inclined, I would not be able to describe them or do them justice. Martin quickly replied to my email with the following:

“I remember about 4 of the experiments! We can start with the one with clear the water filled balls. Those were polymers! (Which are mostly Carbon and Hydrogen atoms linked together in long chains. There are many different kinds, but the ones we saw absorbed water over night, which made them have an "index of refraction" almost equal to the water they were in, and also really squishy because they are, at that point, mostly water)! So that means that when light passes through them, they bend the light in almost the same way that the water did, and that makes them invisible! I still have some, so when I come home at the end of May, I'll be happy to give you a jar if you'd like!

Another one I remember was something called "Jacob's Ladder." We passed electricity through a transformer that gave it a higher voltage, and then it arced across two copper wires. Also, you can go up to my dad's room and ask him to show you it again, if you'd like! He says he'd be happy to do it.

Another week, we made "floating bubbles!" We had a large plastic fish tank, and made a sea of carbon-dioxide gas by mixing baking soda (sodium bicarbonate) and vinegar (which is dilute acetic acid.) It's just like your classic make-a-volcano experiment everyone does in elementary school, except this time we were looking for the resulting gas and not the mess that a volcano makes! That gas was carbon dioxide: here's the reaction, if you'd like.

NaHCO3 + CH3COOH ==> H2O + NaC2H3O2 + CO2(g)

In words, the chemicals are (in order) sodium carbonate + acetic acid (forms) water + sodium acetate + carbon dioxide gas

Since carbon dioxide is more dense, and therefore heavier, than the air around us, it stayed in the big plastic fish tank. We could then blow bubbles in to the fish tank, and they would float on the layer of carbon dioxide gas, because our breath, although it contains some carbon dioxide gas, is mostly nitrogen. And nitrogen is lighter than the carbon dioxide, so the bubbles looked like they were floating on some invisible sea of gas!

And finally, the spontaneous combustion! (How can we ever forget?) This one was really simple, but it was still my favorite (Partly because of the chemistry, but partly because of people's reactions...including my own!)

We had a ceramic "evaporating dish" filled with finely powdered potassium permanganate (KMnO4), which looks like a grey sand. Next, we added about a teaspoon of glycerine (it kind of sounds like a cooking show, doesn't it?) and waited about a minute for the reaction to start.

It was...

KMnO4 + C3H5(OH)3 ==> K2CO3 + Mn2O3 + CO2(g) + H2O(g) + HEAT!!!

Or, in words, potassium permanganate + glycerin (yields) potassium carbonate + manganese(III) oxide + carbon dioxide gas + water vapor + HEAT!!!!

And of course, the heat is what we saw as the flames! Here's something to remind you (in case somehow you managed to forget...if you have, tell me how, because that was one of the top ten scariest moments of my life! All I could think of while the smoke filled the room was how I would try and explain to my mom how I burnt down Creative Writing's brand new Mac computer cluster!).

I hope that is a good start! If you need me to be more or less scientific than I was before, just ask! I'll be happy to explain anything and everything however you'd like.”


In typical Martin fashion, he left nothing out, even referring me to youtube videos of the experiments and even making sure that I could turn to his Dad, a colleague who taught science, for further explanation. When I thanked him for all of this helpful information, because I was not “scientifically-inclined,” he reassuringly emailed me back.

“You don't need those videos to be "scientifically inclined." I think we're all scientifically inclined. Science is the manifestation of curiosity, in my opinion. We all cannot know the right names of chemicals...we can't all be able to explain why ice floats, or why cats have stripes. But we all can be curious! It's our just our way. And it's purely curiosity that will drive science onward through the years...not fancy terminology!

So from one scientist to another, I hope you find what you are looking for in your writing. Cheers, Martin!”

And we’re still friends on Facebook:

"Ms. Gamzon, you make me like the elegance of English almost as much as Science!"

Only 98 pages left of Moby Dick, Ms. Gamzon!"

He got an A+ in AP Language and Composition for reading it and writing a paper on it.

But this is what was so special about Martin. Many students post blog comments on my classroom writing posts and lessons and unfortunately, I don’t always read and respond to them all., but this one I found was very special and heartfelt.

“Everything happens for a reason, Martin,” my grandmother told me when I burnt my favorite childhood hat next to the wood burning stove. It was a lovely hat, made of wool so colorful it brightened my day every time I wore it. From a structuralistic point of view, the burning of the hat would be only a sign of the painful times to come. That winter would be the coldest winter in my past. You see, structuralism states that all of humankind’s characteristics: our actions, our deeds, our literature and our lives are a system of signs which are not to be overlooked. Structuralists such as Roman Jacobson, Claude Lévi-Strauss, and Roland Barthes attempted to develop a semiology; a form of science which analyzes these signs in our history and literature. Naturally, the Science of English would greatly appeal to me. So, why Structuralism? Why study the events of the past, hoping to decode what may take place in the future? Because it cannot easily be done, and a good mind always accepts the challenge. I would have never guessed that the burning hat, the symbol of the “cold winter” could have meant anything more than my ears would be frostbitten. I would never have known that that particular winter would play host to the death of my grandmother there with me when my hat burned. Nor would I ever have guessed that the rosebush she planted many years before would not grow that spring. A sign so seemingly, painfully obvious was cast aside as I scorned at my silly mistake of putting my hat too close to the fire. And yet, who knows how many symbols are left enduring undiscovered by me at this very moment. Structuralism would dictate that everything, all these little actions, feelings, and decisions, will return to influence the system of life in my future.

Thank you, Martin.

Day 2: Martin's perspective


Science Friday was my favorite day of the week.  Not for the NPR program that I like, but for my very own presentation.  I created Science Friday for Ms. Gamzon’s homeroom and like Bill Nye, the science guy (my idol), I would bring a simple science experiment to her classroom and share it with the students who were already there before 1st period started.

So far the experiments were well-received by my peers who were familiar with some of them from their chemistry class, but Ms. Gamzon seemed fascinated.  She was like a little child awed by the simplest of chemical experimentation.

Then last week I went too far.  I brought in an experiment that involved the simple mixing of some chemicals that would create a small conflagration and heat simply by contact.  Perhaps I had not measured the amounts properly or had not counted on the fact that fire also involves smoke and smoke in a school classroom is not a desirable thing.

The look on Ms. Gamzon’s face changed quickly from initial fascination to sheer panic as the smoke began to billow upwards from the safety of the container where I had placed the chemical experiment.I had it under control, but just barely.  I mean, I was scared too, and I knew I had just disappointed Ms. Gamzon.  She seemed to think I was perfect and could do no wrong, but I had just flubbed a simple experiment and endangered her students.

I tried to make it up to her later in the year.  She gave us an extra credit assignment in AP English.  If we  independently read and did a report on Melville’s Moby Dick, she would give us an A+ for our 4th marking period grade.

Not only did we read and do a presentation, but we dressed the part.  I played Captain Ahab, and David was the Great White Whale, complete with a costume we built for the occasion.  The smile on Ms. Gamzon’s face and her laughter at seeing David walk into the room was everything I hoped for as an apology for nearly setting her room (or even the school!) on fire earlier in the year. I knew she wasn’t angry at me, but Ms. Gamzon’s face is so easily read and disappointment was one thing I hoped never to see again from her.


Day 1 Blog reflection:
Tell a story about your classroom.