Power of Passion

This morning, I felt like crap. When I got on the subway, I was so focused on how putrid I felt, I was barely aware of what was happening around me. What brought me back was the familiar whine of a three year old girl who had just been scolded by her mother. The affected child's face, though far cuter than my own, directly reflected my internal feelings.

Then, something interesting happened. The little girl's mother handed her a tube of bubbles with a yellow plastic cat's head for a lid. She grabbed the toy in a huff and let it hang limp in her tiny hand. This only lasted a couple of seconds. Maintaining her scowl, she began to examine the object she now possessed. She soon discovered that the cat head screwed and unscrewed, and her face began to change. Her pursed cheeks softened, and the wrinkles that had formed above her nose relaxed slightly from wrinkles of anger to ones of interest.

This tiny child, who only moments ago had been so distraught, was now enthralled with the simple motion of twisting and tightening that yellow plastic cat head.

I watched her with a mixture of deep adoration and considerable envy. In my mind, I was already starting a blog post about how kids start out with natural curiosity about the world and how that curiosity overrides their negative emotions. In my mind, that would have been followed up by a rant about how that dies overtime because of experiences they have in life and school.

But then I realized that this same little girl had acted as my yellow plastic cat head.

Education is my passion. No matter how terrible my mood, any display of childhood curiosity transfixes me and sets my wheels in motion. I found myself sitting on a subway, no longer feeling like crap, but instead completely enthralled with a small girl and her tube of bubbles.

Student's do not loose their curiosity about the world, it just evolves. Eventually, children figure out why the cat head untwists, and that is no longer a subject that is transfixing. That is why it is so important to help students find a focus for that natural curiosity. In other words, they need to start uncovering their passions.

As a teacher, I feel it is my job to help my students find that thing that gets them so pumped up, so focused, and so dedicated that they forget anything else they are feeling. I want their desire to to explore and discover to override the negative feelings they experience and to give them renewed purpose in moments when things are hard. I want them all to have days like I had today. That is to say, days that start out completely terrible, and end with an exciting revelation.

Half and Half

My life as an educator has been tumultuous for the last couple of weeks. I've dealt with frustrations including everything from poorly delivered lessons and hours of standardized test prep to deeper systematic changes that are completely going to change the job I am doing next year. I've felt disgruntled, angry, frustrated, mopey, and helpless. Sometimes, when I look at the current direction education in this country is headed, its easy to feel like the "good fight" is simply too overwhelming.

No worries, this post turns around fast.

On Saturday, I went with a co-worker to the Museo Del Barrio (a Latin American Art Museum) on a scouting mission. Our college to career connections class just finished a unit on family history and identity, and many of our students have Latino roots. We thought it would be a nice way to end the unit, but we wanted to check it out first to be sure.

As I was meandering about the museum, I was picturing my tiny scholars flitting from placard to placard reading about the different pieces. Eventually I found myself in front of the painting Virus Americanus by Rafael Vargas-Suarez (see above).

I found this painting interesting, but not particularly inspiring. What got my mind flipping circles was the description of the painting provided on the placard that accompanied it. The painting was described as a visual depiction of America as a virus that is attempting to infect the entire world. However, it is difficult to tell whether the virus is advancing or the world is successfully fending it off. In other words, what we are really witnessing is a fight between optimism and pessimism. Again, I wasn't that impressed with the image, but this description of the painting hit a chord.

I am in a very similar place right now. As someone passionate about education reform, I see NCLB and other similar policies as a virus that is taking over the education landscape, and I am forgetting that the fight is far from finished.

As a teacher, I have been so focused of late on perfecting my lesson planning and ensuring that things go exactly according to plan, I have forgotten something vital...

That's not my style.

Luckily, I have brilliant and beautiful patches of light surrounding me who find ways to remind me of why I started doing this in the first place.

For instance, on Monday I had a group of three seventh graders who chose not to go outside for free time, and we were playing with play-do. One of my seventh graders made a ring out of the play-do and threw it across the table trying to ring it around a marker that another student was at that moment using. I could have reacted to this in many different ways.

1. Kicked my unruly student out of the classroom because I felt he was not mature enough to handle the activity.

2. Admonished the student for throwing the play-do with the stereotypical, "play-do is not for throwing" retort.

I almost did both, but instead for some reason I responded by saying, "My dear if you want to throw play-do rings at markers, please find a way of doing so that does not cause Thomas to mess up his beautiful picture."

And he did.

My chosen reaction led to the creation of ULTIMATE RING TOSS, a wonderful game in which you throw play do rings at ever changing formations of markers stuck to the table with gobs of play-do. It kept the whole group entertained for nearly 40 minutes, and it inspired another student in the room to create a play-do based game of her own.

I learned two major lessons from this experience.

1. No matter how daunting the world of education reform may seem, ULTIMATE RING TOSS moments are worth fighting for.

2. Sometimes it is necessary to remove the stick from where the sun don't shine and just go with the flow.

Are you ready, are you ready for the floor?

This weekend I was watching Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland. My feelings about the movie were mixed. However, one thing about the movie that I found delightfully refreshing was the opportunity to see an on screen heroine boldly and actively pursuing what is right and just. Watching Alice constantly propelling herself forward toward her goal tapped in to the desire I have for my students to do the same. It left a question echoing in my mind.
How do you get students to jump down the rabbit hole?

One of my continuing challenges as an educator is to create an environment in which my students feel safe taking chances. I have written on this topic before, and I feel it is an appropriate time to return to it now that I have some experience attempting to create such an environment. My first impulse was to shield and protect my students from failure. I figured, if they took a chance and succeeded they would be more comfortable taking them in the future. When lesson planning, I tried to think of all the possible ways my students could make a mistake and then created safeguards within a lesson plan to ensure no such hiccups occurred.

This was very silly.

Obviously, it is impossible to think of everything that can go wrong, and attempting such a feat is hugely counterproductive. The message I ended up sending to my students was that you should always be cautious and do things perfectly the first time you try. It is completely possible that they came away from my lessons believing that doing a good job requires following a set of explicit and detailed instructions and creating an end product that fits a strict set of criteria. Planning lessons in this way makes it impossible for students to get comfortable taking chances because there are no chances to be taken.

Then last night all the thoughts that have been swirling around in my head regarding chance taking finally conga lined into a single stream of conscious thought.
Alice can fall because she has fallen before.

In Burton’s adaptation of the tale, Alice is returning to Wonderland as a young woman. Which means when she jumps into that rabbit hole she can do it without batting an eye because she has done it before and it turned out fine. This isn’t a perfect metaphor. In the movie Alice does not remember having been to Wonderland before and she thinks she is in a dream, but stick with me on this.
When I think of my own life and the moments when I have exhausted my ability to analyze, criticize, categorize, and every other “ize” you can think of for a decision, experience with falling is what allows me to finally say, “what the hell” and go for it. I have lept into the murky unknowns of life before, I have fallen into the blackness, and I have hit the ground at the bottom.'

Sometimes that ground is an embracing plushy surface that allows me to get up immediately and move on feeling glad that I jumped. Sometimes it is fitted with long jagged spikes that leave my body mangled and leave me seriously questioning why I ever thought jumping was anything but insane.

What always saved me from remaining impaled, hurt, and defeated was that during my early “spikes at the bottom” experiences is that someone was there.  Many people actually were there to say, "Wow Erin, you really f-ed this up, but you are not done, you are not defeated. Get up, learn from what has happened, and move forward." This was essential, because I learned that I could make mistakes. I could make huge mistakes, and with time and perseverance, I could recover and move forward.

I need to let my students hit the spikes.

However, when they do, I need to be there to help them stitch up the wounds and move forward. Hopefully that way, when they come to a rabbit hole in the future, they will jump with the understanding that regardless of what awaits them at the bottom, they will learn many valuable things about themselves and about life. More importantly, they will know that no matter what awaits them they possess the strength to propel themselves toward their dreams for the future.But what is the best way to do that?

Defining Moment

If you know me, you know I like poems. If you read this blog, you know I like using poems when I teach. The first poem I ever taught was The Dream Keeper by Langston Hughes.

The Dream Keeper

Bring me all your dreams,
You dreamer,
Bring me all your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world


I did the explication of this poem with a group of 10 year old boys from Chester, PA. It did not take them long to uncover Hughes' meaning. However, what has stuck with me about this first experience is the response one boy gave to an off-handed question I asked at the end of our discussion.


Erin: Now that we have figured out what this poem means, what do you guys think about the idea of a person who protects other's dreams?

Darien: Erin I think that's stupid. No one can protect a dream for you. You have to take care of it yourself.


At that moment, I knew I wanted to be an educator. Not only that, but I knew what kind of educator I wanted to be.

Today I stood in front of my room full of sixth graders and did another "poetry activity." We compared the lyrics of two different love songs. One of them dealt with romantic love (All My Life by KC & JoJo) and the other with familial love (A Song for Mama). As I watched eager hands shoot up in the air and listened to the connections and observations my students were making, I felt a desperate longing that I am very familiar with.

My heart ached with the desire to be their dream keeper.

But Darien was right. That is something I cannot be, and trying to take on that role would be doing my students a grave disservice. Instead, it is my job to help my students develop the perseverance and passion they will need to fight the sparkle-dousing cynicism the world will inevitably throw their way.

As a teacher, I cannot buffer my students from disappointment and disillusionment. However, I can do everything in my power to prepare them to be brave and vigorous protectors of their own dreams. I can help them discover the strength and beauty that I already see in each and every one of them.

In the end, why would I ever want to keep their dreams when it is so much more amazing to watch them become their own keepers?

Standardized Sculpture

You are a brilliant sculptor. A patron comes to your studio and plops a giant lump of clay on the table in front of you.

"I want you to take this lump of clay and make me something beautiful," says the patron.

Then, before you can ask any questions, he leaves. You find yourself not knowing where to start. Something beautiful? How do you choose? There are so many beautiful things. Does the patron want something realistic? Abstract? Based in nature? The ever-mounting swell of possibilities paralyzes your talent for creative creation.

Eventually, you accept the fact that the task before you is overwhelming and do the only thing there is to do...

Start.

You work tirelessly night and day. You shape and mold the clay until it takes on an aesthetically pleasing form. You scoop away the unneeded excess. Finally, you stop and step away from your sculpture. Being the professional that you are, you can see that the piece you have created is far from perfect. But it is beautiful, and you decide it is time to be done.

You contact the patron. He returns to your studio to see what you have created.

Your heart sinks as the financier of your piece stares in disgusted disbelief.

"Where is the pedestal?" asks the patron. "Don't you know that all great statues are sculpted to look like they sit on a pedestal? And why isn't it painted? Don't you know that every statue should be painted?"

The patron refuses to pay for what you have created and storms out of your studio. He snaps a picture of the monstrosity in order to show it to the National Council of Artists. He wants your sculptor’s license revoked.

The National Council of Artists sees your sculpture and is appalled. They decide that there needs to be a crack down so that no sculpture will ever be created without paint and a pedestal. Soon there is a national mandate requiring that all sculptures contain these two elements. Artists who refuse to comply lose their membership in the counsel which makes it very hard for them to get commissions.

Many members do not think that these restrictions are enough. They feel that the national council should also decide acceptable dimensions for a sculpture, the subject matter that can be depicted in sculptural form, and they mandate that all sculptures must be carved out of marble (they have a surplus in the quarries, and using it up will be very profitable to the council).

You lose passion for your work. The council no longer seems to have faith in the ability of sculptors to create beautiful works of art without national intervention and strict regulation. Your work becomes dull and passionless. All the sculptures in the country begin to look the same. If nothing changes, they will all begin to look like they were cast from the same mold. You give up the craft, because you are deeply distraught by the lack of freedom you have to make every sculpture into something unique.

Question 1: What kinds of students should our country strive for?

Dull passionless clones?

Or

Unique works of art?

Question 2: What kinds of teachers should our country strive for?

Regurgitators?

Or

Creators?

I know which of these I would choose. What about you??