“Memory Song” by Meredith Monk - reflection

“Memory Song” by Meredith Monk

The fading in and out of spoken and sung language reminds me of the duality of forgetting and remembering. It makes the abstract become concrete in some transcending way.

The creative use of words in other languages makes me think of memories that we can no longer grasp because they are too far back in time, perhaps from before a time that we even existed - an echoing from our ancestors to remind us of who we are and from where we come from.

It is good to be made uncomfortable at times, as this is when we know we are out of our element and can learn something new.  I think this is often how students feel when talked at by adults all day about concepts they are expected to apply and analyze, yet do not comprehend. How do we make these abstractions more concrete for them to understand? How do we remind ourselves that discomfort and being lost at times are great opportunities to remap the way we see situations and to make ourselves aware of skills that we do possess, yet that we just forgot we have? In a sense this is also a remembering, a  human remembering of how we need  to wade through ambiguity, to collect our observations, to synthesize this with what we already know in order to formulate a new hypothesis, to move forward and to learn.

J.Wheeler-Ballestas

7/12

A message to my new friends

As I'm thinking about and planning for my creative piece (on my long drive to Albany of course), one thing that keeps coming to mind is what I carry with me from all of my experiences.  From fellow teachers, from former students, and from the amazing people I have the good fortune to meet on a regular basis.  I just wanted you to know that I've carried you with me here to Albany.  Thank you for a great first few days of intelligent and provocative conversation; I'm looking forward to all that's to come in the next couple weeks.

Faith in teachers

 

While getting ready in the morning for the Genesee Valley Writing Project, I could not stop thinking about Melissa’s post and her moving story about the Patrick and the impact she had on him. However, her impact did not seem to be valued in the face of state and federal mandates where a test score means more than the personal growth of a student. In my research, I found teachers similar to Melissa whose identities were compromised, or I should say constricted, by high stakes testing environments. Even more is how teachers’ identities are compromised by what they believe and know is good teaching and the reasons they went into the teaching profession in the first place – to teach, to make a difference, to nurture lifelong learners and critical thinkers. However, this is not what they feel they can do in lieu of the amount of tests students are required to take and the preparation that goes with students having to take those tests. Yet, in the current climate of education, teachers are blamed for low test scores and student failure, and are then under scrutiny, surveillance, and evaluation to determine their effectiveness. What other profession does this - where dedicated individuals who have the students’ best interests at heart and do so for little pay are treated this way? In a way that devalues and dehumanizes their experience, education, intelligence, and compassion? Why are state and federal governments not looking at larger social inequities such as poverty and lack of access to resources and technology as barriers to learning rather than be quick to blame the teacher who teaches with little to no resources in an unairconditioned building that may be in need of repair? 

As teachers’ identities are compromised, so are the students’ identities. Students arrive to school with various interests, attributes, and histories that are often not taken into account when they are filling in answers to multiple choice test questions that are completely irrelevant to their lives. In my own school experience, I was a deep thinker. I had to really think about what I was learning, reading, writing, and discussing in order to process the information and be able to articulate it in ways that other students could do easily. I did not excel at taking tests, especially timed tests. I don’t know if I would be where I am now if I had to take the amount of tests students have to take and teachers have to administer, taking time away from the meaningful work they do with students.

In a 2012 address to the National Council of Teachers of English, Sir Ken Robinson stated that education now is based on conformity not on individuality. Education should be based on the latter, not the former. He said, “Everyone’s resume is different. Children are on their own unique journey.” He argues that curriculum continues to be narrowed and people are making decisions on what they think children should do. In essence, those making decisions on behalf of children are trying to plan students’ lives for them. He maintains that the “process of discovery is lost and creativity is as well.” What Robinson argues can be said about teachers and how their creativity and autonomy in what and how they teach and assess learning is lost. Some folks somewhere are making decisions on what and how teachers should teach. As Melissa stated, Patrick is more than a score, a number on a rubric. He is a student who has shown personal growth and learning in ways that cannot be measured by a state test. And like Patrick, Melissa is more than a number on an evaluation scoreboard, and most certainly not ineffective. She is highly effective, qualified, extraordinary, caring, nurturing, creative, intelligent, experienced. She is more than the evaluation measures put forth by individuals who continue to have little trust and faith in what teachers do. 

Hi-Lo Story Writing

I have been trying my hand at writing Hi-Lo (high interest, low readability) stories for the last two years.  I believe "struggling readers" deserve engaging stories that respect their intelligence and interests.  Many of my students who struggle with reading only struggle to engage.  Books and stories simply do not speak to them.  If one cannot engage, one does not read, and if one does not read...well, we all know what happens.

The following is the beginning of a story that I am crafting for a student who reads at grade level 2.  He is entering high school and is working not just on reading, but on learning how to make appropriate choices in friends.

Lost in the Cave

Chapter 1

 

                Jimmy’s dad has the coolest job ever—his job is to discover and explore caves.  It’s called spelunking.  Spelunking can be a dangerous job.  Caves are dark and wet.  The surface of cave floors changes quickly.  It is easy to fall and to get lost.  But, Jimmy’s dad is the best at spelunking!  His dad is smart and he knows how to stay safe.

                Jimmy had been begging his dad for months to take him on a spelunking trip.

                “Dad, pleeeaaase, let me go with you!  I can help carry all of your bags and tools!” Jimmy would cry.

                “Jimmy, you know I never carry a lot.  It is not safe to bring heavy bags into a cave.  You don’t need to come with me,” his dad would say.

                “But, Dad, I promise not to climb on anything.  I promise to listen.  I promise to stick near you,” Jimmy would say to his dad.

                “No, Jimmy.  I’m sorry.  It is just too dangerous.  I would worry about you,” his dad said.

                Jimmy did not like to hear “no” for an answer.  Over and over his father would tell him that there is so much to learn about spelunking.  BUT, he never taught Jimmy about spelunking.  Jimmy would have to learn this information all by himself.   Maybe then his father would take him into the caves.

                The next morning, Jimmy jumped out of bed very early.  He ran to the computer and logged on.  Jimmy went onto Google to look up spelunking; he found a lot of information.

                Jimmy learned that most caves are limestone caves. Limestone caves are formed when rainwater seeps into the ground.  The ground water becomes almost like an acid and eats away at the limestone deep in the soil.  Over a long, long time, a cave is formed.  When water eats away at rock, scientists call that erosion.

                Jimmy continued reading.  He learned that caves are dangerous for many reasons.  Some caves are wide in some places and then get very narrow. The temperature can be cold and pools of water can form in the caves. These pools can be as deep as a person’s waist.  Some caves have many twists and turns with many sharp rocks.  Some rocks grow out of the ceilings; others grow out of the ground.  Some caves have edges that drop off.  Caves are very, very dark, so it is hard to see all of these dangerous things.  A person who is spelunking needs to watch out for danger.

                Jimmy read that some caves have bats and other small animals.  He learned never to drink cave water and always bring 2 flashlights, in case one breaks.  He learned that he should never, never go into a cave alone.

                Jimmy thought to himself: I don’t know why Dad makes such a big deal out of spelunking.  If you are careful, you will be fine.

                All of a sudden, Jimmy had an idea.  It was still very early, only 6:30am, and his dad was still sleeping.  Jimmy knew of a cave that was just a 10 minute bike ride away.  He grabbed his phone and ran into the garage.  There were a few things that he was going to need.

Chapter 2

                Once Jimmy was inside the garage, he called his best friend, Matt.  Matt and Jimmy did everything together.  They rode bikes, went swimming, and played on the same soccer team.  They had been friends since first grade.

                “Jimmy, why are you calling me so early!  I am trying to sleep!”  Matt said as he yawned into the phone.

“Matt, get dressed and grab your bike.  Bring your backpack, some water, and a flashlight,” Jimmy said.

 

                “What are you up to, Jimmy?  I just want to sleep.  This isn’t one of your crazy plans, is it?” Matt asked.

                “Sure it is.  Just meet me there in 15 minutes.  And bring that stuff with you,” Jimmy said.

                “Fine, but you better not get us into trouble.  And this better be fun.  I am going to be mad if I got out of bed for something stupid,”  Matt said.

                “Don’t worry.  This is going to be great!”  Jimmy said.

**********

                Matt and Jimmy met at 7-Eleven.  Matt brought his backpack, two water bottles, and an old flashlight.  He still looked sleepy and his hair was a mess.

                Before leaving, Jimmy had left his father a note.  In the summertime, his dad did not mind if Jimmy and Matt went out biking, but he wanted to know where Jimmy was going.  Jimmy had just said:

 

                Dear Dad,

                        Matt and I got up early.  We are going biking near the Bay Front Caves.  We have water, food, and our phones.  Call me if you need to.

                        Jimmy

 

                Jimmy was sure that his father would not be upset.

                “So, Jimmy,”  Matt said, “where are we going?”

                “We’re riding to the Bay Front Caves,”  Jimmy said.

                “But that’s such a boring ride!  We have done that trails so many times now.  Let’s go somewhere else!”  Matt said.

                “But, this time, Matt, we’re going INTO the caves!”  Jimmy said with a smile.

                “But…wait…your dad said we could?  He always told us NOT to go into the caves,” Jimmy wondered.

                “Um…yeah…I learned a lot about going into caves.  He just said not to in too far.  That’s why you needed to bring all of that stuff,” Jimmy said.

                “But, why isn’t your dad coming with us?” Matt asked.

                “Oh, um…he is coming.  Just later.  He wanted us to get a head start,” Jimmy said.

                “That does not sound like your dad at all,” Matt said.  Matt was getting a bad feeling about this.  He knew how dangerous caves could be.  Jimmy’s dad had told Matt all about the dangers of caves.

                Jimmy was getting annoyed.  He sighed and said, “Just relax, Matt.  Trust me.  This is going to be so much fun.  We’re best friends, right?” said Jimmy.

                “Yes, we are.  Ok.  Let’s go,” Matt said.  This still did not feel right to him.  Jimmy sometimes did things that got both of them into trouble.  But Jimmy was always nice to Matt, so….

                The boys got on their bikes and headed up to Bay Front Caves.  The sun had not yet come up.  There were clouds in the sky.  Jimmy was smiling.  Matt had butterflies in his stomach.

 

Chapter 3

                The boys rode up to the front of the cave.  The opening was big and wide, and that made Matt feel better.  It was very, very dark though.

                “Matt, you got that flashlight, right?” Jimmy asked.

                “Yeah, it’s right here.  It’s a bit old,” said Matt.

                “Does it work?” Jimmy asked.

 

                “Most of the time.  I checked it before I left, and it was working,” Matt said.  “Don’t you have a flashlight?”

                “Yes, but it’s always good to have two,” Jimmy said.

                “Are you sure your dad is coming?” Matt said.  He looked worried.

                “Don’t worry so much.  Come on, let’s go in,” Jimmy said.  He grabbed Matt by the arm and pulled him into the mouth of the cave.

                Once inside, the temperature got really cold.  As they walked farther and farther in, the cave got darker and darker.  The cave was very quiet. 

                “Jimmy, it’s creepy in here.  Let’s go back,” Matt said.

                “Don’t be a wuss. Come on!”  Jimmy yelled.

                Jimmy’s voice began to echo all through the cave.  Then, the boys heard a noise.  It sounded like the flutter of wings.

                “What’s that?” Matt asked.

                “I bet it’s a bat!  Cool!” Jimmy said.

                “Do they bite?” Matt wondered.

                “Yes, and they will suck your blood!”  Jimmy laughed and slapped Matt on the back.

                Matt was angry, but he didn’t say anything.  He didn’t want Jimmy to make fun of him anymore.  Matt just continued walking.  He took out his flashlight to light the way.

                The boys walked for a long time.  The cave seemed really boring.  They did not see any water or any cool rocks.  There were no bats, no animals.  The cave was just cold, dark, and quiet.

                “This is boring,” Jimmy said.

                “I wish your dad would hurry up.  He could show us where the cool places are in the cave,” Matt said.

                “Um…he…he told me where to go!”  Jimmy said.  “Look, look up there.  We have to crawl through that small space.”

                “What?!  That does not look safe at all,” Matt said.

                “No, really, it is safe.  My dad crawls through there all the time.  There is this really cool waterfall behind it,” Jimmy said.

                “I don’t hear a waterfall,” Matt said.  “I don’t hear anything.”

                “Oh, it’s behind there.  Trust me,” Jimmy said.  “Don’t be a wuss.”

                “Fine,” Matt said, angry again. “Show me the way.”

 

Chapter 4

                Jimmy got down on his hands and knees. The rock was cold, and it seemed to be wet, too.  He crawled into the small, dark space.

                “C’mon, Matt, I can hear the waterfall!” Jimmy yelled.

                Matt just stood there.  He had a really bad feeling about going in there.  Just then, he heard a scream.

                Yelling into the hole, Matt said, “Jimmy, are you okay?  Where are you?   I don’t see you!”

                Matt did not hear an answer.  He was worried for his friend, so he quickly crawled into the small, dark space.  He gripped his flashlight tightly.

                Once in the hole, he could see very little.  The space was very tight, so he crawled very slowly.  Little by little, the space began to get wider.  Soon, he was able to stand up again.  Still, no Jimmy.

                “Jimmy, this isn’t funny!  Where are you?  Are you hurt?”

                Still no answer.  The flashlight Matt held went dead.  Matt slapped it against his hand.  It flickered on for a minute, and  then it died again.  Everything was dark.  He could hear strange noises, but he could not tell if it was the sound of a bat or a snake.

 

                “Jimmy?  Jimmy?  Are you out there?” Matt screamed again and again.  His voice was echoing throughout the cave.  Suddenly, he felt something brush his arm.  Then, he heard a whoosh!  Something was very close by.  The air got colder.

                “BOO!” yelled Jimmy as he popped out from behind a rock.

                Matt screamed and jumped back.  As he jumped, he started to fall backward.  Matt grabbed at Jimmy, knocking Jimmy’s flashlight to the ground.  This part of the cave was very wet, and the surface of the cave was not flat, but bumpy.  This was a dangerous part of the cave.  Jimmy did not think of this, and now, Matt had fallen to the ground.

                Jimmy was still laughing at the joke when Matt began to moan.  “Jimmy, stop laughing!  I’m hurt!  I’m hurt!  My ankle!” Matt said.

                Jimmy stopped laughing.  “Give me the flashlight; I can’t see you,” Jimmy said.

“I can’t give it to you.  When I fell, it broke,” Matt said.

                “Great.  What are we going to do now?  This is all your fault,” Jimmy said.

                Matt was really, really mad. “MY FAULT?  My fault?  This was all your idea!  You wanted to come to the caves.  You wanted to crawl into this hole.  You played around.  Because I was worried about you, I came into this hole, and now I’m hurt!  This is NOT my fault.  You are a terrible friend,” Jimmy shouted.

                Jimmy felt sick.  Matt was right.

                “I bet your dad isn’t really even coming!  I bet he doesn’t even know we’re down here,” Jimmy screamed.

                Jimmy didn’t know what to say.  Matt was right, and because of Jimmy, both of them were stuck without a flashlight, and Jimmy was badly hurt….

 

 

An oldie, but goodie

 from http://www.jamievollmer.com/blueberries

The Blueberry Story:
The teacher gives the businessman a lesson

     “If I ran my business the way you people operate your schools, I wouldn’t be in business very long!”
     I stood before an auditorium filled with outraged teachers who were becoming angrier by the minute. My speech had entirely consumed their precious 90 minutes of in-service. Their initial icy glares had turned to restless agitation. You could cut the hostility with a knife.
     I represented a group of business people dedicated to improving public schools. I was an executive at an ice cream company that had become famous in the middle1980s when People magazine chose our blueberry as the “Best Ice Cream in America.”
     I was convinced of two things. First, public schools needed to change; they were archaic selecting and sorting mechanisms designed for the industrial age and out of step with the needs of our emerging “knowledge society.” Second, educators were a major part of the problem: they resisted change, hunkered down in their feathered nests, protected by tenure, and shielded by a bureaucratic monopoly. They needed to look to business. We knew how to produce quality. Zero defects! TQM! Continuous improvement!
      In retrospect, the speech was perfectly balanced — equal parts ignorance and arrogance.
     As soon as I finished, a woman’s hand shot up. She appeared polite, pleasant. She was, in fact, a razor-edged, veteran, high school English teacher who had been waiting to unload.
      She began quietly, “We are told, sir, that you manage a company that makes good ice cream.”
      I smugly replied, “Best ice cream in America, Ma’am.”
     “How nice,” she said. “Is it rich and smooth?”
     “Sixteen percent butterfat,” I crowed.
     “Premium ingredients?” she inquired.
     “Super-premium! Nothing but triple A.” I was on a roll. I never saw the next line coming.
      “Mr. Vollmer,” she said, leaning forward with a wicked eyebrow raised to the sky, “when you are standing on your receiving dock and you see an inferior shipment of blueberries arrive, what do you do?”
      In the silence of that room, I could hear the trap snap…. I was dead meat, but I wasn’t going to lie.
     “I send them back.”
     She jumped to her feet. “That’s right!” she barked, “and we can never send back our blueberries. We take them big, small, rich, poor, gifted, exceptional, abused, frightened, confident, homeless, rude, and brilliant. We take them with ADHD, junior rheumatoid arthritis, and English as their second language. We take them all! Every one! And that, Mr. Vollmer, is why it’s not a business. It’s school!”
      In an explosion, all 290 teachers, principals, bus drivers, aides, custodians, and secretaries jumped to their feet and yelled, “Yeah! Blueberries! Blueberries!”
      And so began my long transformation.
      Since then, I have visited hundreds of schools. I have learned that a school is not a business.           
     Schools are unable to control the quality of their raw material, they are dependent upon the vagaries of politics for a reliable revenue stream, and they are constantly mauled by a howling horde of disparate, competing customer groups that would send the best CEO screaming into the night.
None of this negates the need for change. We must change what, when, and how we teach to give all children maximum opportunity to thrive in a post-industrial society. But educators cannot do this alone; these changes can occur only with the understanding, trust, permission, and active support of the surrounding community. For the most important thing I have learned is that schools reflect the attitudes, beliefs and health of the communities they serve, and therefore, to improve public education means more than changing our schools, it means changing America.

Copyright 2011 Jamie Robert Vollmer

John J. Viall on his blog, "A Teacher on Teaching," riffs on the NFL adopting a Common Core playbook...

NFL Adopts Common Core Playbook--Copying Education Reforms

Model paragraph response for Whitman's "Re-examine all you have been told..."

Here is the model reader response paragraph I wrote for the students while we did the Transcendentalism module (complete with "hippie" yearbook picture):

The task as it appears on the class blog:

"This is what you shall do..." by Walt Whitman, from the preface of Leaves of Grass.

"This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body." 

Think about the implications of Whitman’s exhortation to “dismiss whatever insults your soul.”  What are some of the things that you have been told “at school or church or in any book” that you might re-examine?

Imagine this quote is being used for Question 3 of the AP English Language and Composition Exam in May.  Write a paragraph response that defends, challenges, or qualifies Whitman’s argument.  Use specific, appropriate evidence to develop your position.

A MODEL:

Personal change and growth require a lifelong re-examination of one’s values and ideas about the world.  Great historical social, political and cultural movements have been inspired by individuals who have examined the past, acted in the present, and left a legacy for the future.  Walt Whitman, like other Transcendentalists of his time, believed in self-reliance and the necessity of living an examined life.  In his Preface to Leaves of Grass, he urges the reader to “re-examine” all that we have been told “at school or church or in any book.”  By doing so, we can live a life worth living, a life of self-reliance and non-conformity in which, as Abraham Maslow proposes, we become self-actualized. 

Growing up in the turbulent 1960s, I witnessed the upheavals of the civil rights movement, the women’s liberation movement, and the anti-Vietnam war movement.  I questioned my own Jewish upbringing, fantasized about becoming a Christian nun or a Hindu yogi, and finally was persuaded to adopt Aldous Huxley’s “perennial philosophy,” embracing my own set of moral values from the great religions I studied.  I dreamed of escaping to the woods and living a simple life attuned with nature in a “hippie”commune after reading Thoreau’s Walden.  With a black armband on my crimson graduation robe, I protested the Vietnam War and then practiced civil disobedience at marches and rallies, much to the dismay of my parents. Later in life, I realized with regret how much pain the actions of the protestors added to the horrors of the war the Vietnam veterans experienced.  Having rebelled against my parents, pursued theater as a career, yet returned to education, I am now reminded by this Whitman passage that I am, more importantly, always a learner and that’s what gives special meaning to my life.