Thursday, December 2, 2010
Hear! See! Speak!
"I work with middle school students in an urban setting."
They say...
"Well, in this economy you can't expect to get your dream job straight out of college."
"Its so noble of you to take such a thankless job when your education could have allowed you to teach at any number of prestigious schools."
"You brave soul!"
"Given your...background...wouldn't you be more comfortable working somewhere more...suburban or...rural?"
I hear...
"Ms. Ronhovde, why don't we have a basketball team?"
"What's the point? I'm not going to college."
"Ms. Ronhovde, why don't we have any music classes?"
"Our school is broke. They can't give us nothin'"
"Ms. Ronhovde, how am I supposed to do this project when this school has no internet?"
They hear...
"Urban schools need to stop focusing on "fluff" and get back to the 3 R's"
"Gang violence is on the rise."
"Graduation rates for urban public schools still linger below fifty percent."
"High School drop outs: What's feeding the trend?"
I see...
Sparkle
Furrowed brows as furious pencils race to unlock the mystery of a variable
Mesmerized stares as thoughtful fingers turn crisp pages of a beloved book
The light bulb turning on as a young mind is introduced to a completely new world of thought
A smile full of love in response to every moment I prove to them I am listening and I care
Hope
They see...
Nothing
Here is what I am currently pondering. How do we get well meaning and intelligent people to stop simply painting a picture of urban schools and their students based on statistics and news stories? These children are not numbers, monsters, deadbeats, and certainly not pathetic beings in need of anyone's pity. I am humbled everyday by the intellect and perspective provided by the brilliant young minds surrounding me. I know that if others could see the sparkle I see in my students, they too would be invested in ensuring that it never fizzles out.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
He kindly stopped for me...
Those leaves are dying.
If I could choose how I leave the world, it would be as a beautiful yellow leaf. Before you freak out, let me explain. When most things die, people are either sad because they loved them or happy because they want them gone. A loved one dies- that makes people sad. A mosquito dies- that makes people happy. The death of the leaf makes people happier because they loved it. Nothing else that I can think of does that.
I have actually been working on this post for about two weeks, and I've been vacillating with regards to publishing it. However, I am going to publish this (as you can see) because we cannot avoid death.
So why avoid talking about it?
Death is what makes my life beautiful. Not the actual experience of losing a loved one. I have experienced enough loss to know that it is always unalterably devastating. It takes a piece of a heart that will never again be filled. Still, isn't loving someone so deeply that losing them causes literal pain its own form of beauty? As awful as death is, knowing that I will eventually lose the people I love most is part of what drives me to appreciate every beautiful and special thing about them. It makes me truly cherish our time together, and it drives me to overcome even the most painful of offenses.
But that's not really what I am talking about. The beauty in mortality, to me, is the vitality it adds to existence. If I knew I was going to live forever, I would be far less likely to embrace moments with the potential to be exhilarating. Though I would like to think that I would still drop whatever I was doing and go running through a thunderstorm or dance like a fool in a department store when my favorite song comes on the radio, I doubt it would give me the same feeling. There is no urgency when you have all the time in the world.
The fact of the matter is, I will not live forever. Death will stop for me even if I will not stop for him (thank you Ms. Dickinson). Why not face that fact head on? If we have to live with death, why not really LIVE with it? Stop sweating little things that don't really matter in the long run and appreciate everything beautiful that we are blessed to experience for a blink in time. That's what I choose.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Buddy Bolden's Cues: Jazzing up Classroom Culture
Ken Burns and Wynton Marsalis changed that. Over the weekend, I watched the first episode in the documentary series "Ken Burns' Jazz." It's really hard to explain the effect that it had on me. All I can really say is that before I was even ten minutes in, I knew this documentary was going to significantly effect my world view. I was not disappointed.
Completely by coincidence, my decision to screen "Jazz" came the day after my colleagues and I had a very in depth conversation about the kind of classroom and school culture we want to create for our program. I had a lot to contribute during this discussion, but I did not feel like much of it was very productive. My thoughts just would not crystallize, would not flow and integrate the way I needed them to. It was very upsetting to me, because I have thought a lot about classroom culture and what I would like my classroom to look like. I just could not verbalize it.
As is usually the case, the verbal artistry of a far wiser individual became my catalyst to clarity. Something about Wynton Marsalis' description of jazz tripped a switch on my internal circuit board, and all the lights started flashing at once...
I want my classroom to be like Jazz!
Jazz music relies on collaboration to synchronize the beautiful and unique sounds of many individual musical themes. It is simultaneously the ultimate form of self expression and the ultimate example of cooperation.
Jazz intelligently challenges convention. It is constantly trying new things and pushing the limits of what is acceptable. It never apologizes for itself, but it is very reflective. Jazz musicians learn, adapt, and evolve both by reflecting on and refining their own craft and by critically analyzing the work of their predecessors and contemporaries.
Most importantly, jazz takes on societies' proudest and most shameful moments with equal vigor. It startles the ugliness in humanity without ever losing its sense of humor. Often, jazz sounds likes its biking up a PAM covered hill, but it recognizes the beauty in that struggle. In fact, I would argue that it recognizes the beauty, the vibrancy, and the current of joy flowing through every aspect of life.
And that sums it up. That is what I desperately want my classroom to embody. I could go on forever about all the parallels, but they are pretty direct and transparent. I want my students to see collaboration as the best way to both showcase their individual talents, and as an opportunity to create something more meaningful and relevant than they ever could have working in isolation. My hope is that they can be unapologetic in their academic risk taking while still maintaining an evolutionary attitude. There is something to be learned from every success and failure and a way to grow from every experience.
I guarantee that my classes will very critically examine what is most atrocious and most impressive about the world and the people living in it. However, my goal is to guide them through this process in a way that recognizes the beauty that exists in every struggle.
I want learning in my room to bounce off the page and foxtrot across the classroom in a whirlwind- often chaotic, but never without purpose.
My dream is that learning can be for my students what jazz is for me: A force that penetrates them to the very core. I want them to get so excited by the very prospect of exploring something new that their breathing slows, their pulse picks up a brand new beat, and they enter a world that they never before realized was available to explore.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
What do you say to taking chances?
This post is going to be an examination of what it means to take a chance. There are all kinds of quotations out there about taking chances. The one starting this post is my personal favorite, but here are some others...
I know that is a lot to take in all at once, but each of these quotes reveal something very important about how our society views the experience of taking a chance. We are told that taking chances means we might potentially feel embarrassed, scared, and hurt. These great men and women explain to us that chance taking requires us to lay aside safety, wisdom, practicality, the impossible, and instead take an instinctive leap of faith.
To a certain extent, they may be right. It is almost impossible to take chances without the presence of the unknown. However, as an educator it concerns me that we are sending the message that taking an unknown path to new experiences has the potential to be painful, scary, and embarrassing. I also do not particularly care for the message that there is no room for analysis, experience, and calculation in taking a chance.
In my classroom, I want my children to see taking chances as an adventure. I want to eliminate fear and embarrassment so that trying new things is comfortable or even exciting. When approaching something new and different, I want them to rely on wisdom and practicality (both their own and that of others) instead of treating them like an impediment on the road to discovery.
Sometimes taking chances will be scary, and sometimes it will require a leap of faith, but I do not think it always has to. My question for all of you is how? How do I create an environment where my students feel safe, comfortable, and even eager taking chances? How do I ensure that trying new things and heading in new directions is a positive experience instead of a scary and overwhelming one? As always, I appreciate anything you have to contribute.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
The Rose Not Taken
I was walking past a common area, and skipping around the circumference of the benches situated there was a very small, bouncy haired child and her two huge yellow labs. She ran about aimlessly until she happened upon a rose bush with beautiful pink blooms. Of course, in this situation she did what any adorable 3-year-old would and picked the petals from one of the blossoms. Her intent was to offer these soft, lovely drops of happiness to her two lumbering companions, but this pursuit was thwarted by the fact that her hairy four-legged friends would not even acknowledge the existence of the child's gift. Still, she persisted, following her dogs lovingly from place to place, trying innocently to get their attention and give them her thoughtful gift. In the end, she did not give up but instead said with a maternal note to her voice, "well I'll just leave them right her, and you can come get them when you are ready." She then placed the petals on the corner of one of the benches and continued to pursue new adventures and discoveries.
My description of this brief scene does not come close to doing it justice. The juxtaposition of the dogs huge bulky frames with her light and delicate features, and their animal indifference to her humanity and warmth were comical. Her persistence in trying to share something that she felt would make the creatures she loved happy was beautiful. She was never discouraged, and she had no doubt that at some point, her gift of simple beauty would get the appreciation it deserved.
I am not simply telling this story because it made me ache with happiness. This 20 second scene got me thinking about some deeper issues that have been on my mind constantly over the past month.
Who should get our most precious and beautiful gifts?
If that little girl had given that flower to her doting father who stood close by, or even to me as I passed, it would have brought a smile to a face and put a good deal of warmth in a heart. Instead, she tried to give it to two dogs who paid her no attention and did not appreciate the beauty in what she was attempting to do. Should we be like this little girl? Should we persist in trying to share our gifts with those who do not appreciate them for the beauty that they possess?
Or
Should we reserve the beautiful aspects of our lives and character; our talents, our knowledge, our love, for the people who will truly appreciate the gifts we have to give?
Let's say just for fun, that this little girl attempts to giver her dog a rose petal 100 times. The first 99 times, the dog ignores that gift completely and sometimes even nudges the girl's hand aside with his nose to get it out of his way. However, the hundredth time, he turns and smells the rose, and the smell of that sweet little petal changes his life and the way he sees the world forever. What if the girl had given up the 57th time she tried to give the dog the petal? What if she had decided that dog could never appreciate her gift and instead gave it to me? That dog would have never had the life changing experience of encountering one of life's simplest beauties.
How long do we push? How long to we fight? How long do we persist in trying to give people the beautiful gifts that we know they need but that they cannot or will not accept? What happens when they are finally ready to accept what someone else has to offer, and everyone has given up? What if they turn to smell the rose, and there is no open hand holding the petal?
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
All sparkles may not go on to shine...
This entry focuses on students who lose their sparkle.
What is a student's sparkle? Many of you can probably guess. It is that enthusiasm to learn, that natural curiosity, that eagerness to explore and discover which every child possesses at birth. However, somewhere along the line, many sparkles lose their refractive power. They fade into dull gray dots of apathy.
I have many dull gray dots amongst the juniors that I teach. The way they drag their feet into class, slump down in their chairs, and immediately put their heads down causes me to wonder, when did they loose it? When did they lose their sparkle?
Did it happen in a moment? The first time a teacher shot down a question? The first time someone said they were stupid? The first time they got called a trouble maker? The first time they were compared to a "more intelligent" child?
Or did it happen gradually? Was it simply the accumulation of multiple academic and life frustrations that after 17 years just forced their bright and beautiful sparkle into a dull submission? Either way, my apathetic students are my greatest frustration and my deepest heartbreak.
Which leads me to the question that has driven my academic pursuits since I became interested in education...
Can you re-spark a sparkle?
Can you undo 13+ years of academic discouragement? Can you fight unfortunate life circumstances and devastating events that have nothing to do with school, but that do gut wrenching damage to children?
This post has a lot of questions and not many answers. Personally, I would like to think you can re-ignite something in the mind of an apathetic student. Especially if you are willing dedicate yourself to doing so. With time and patience, sometimes you can get the blood flowing through a student's scholarly vein again. The question is, how? Showing students you believe in their abilities is great. Setting high standards for all of your pupils is admirable. Going the extra mile to ensure they understand the concepts you are teaching by staying after school, catering to their individual learning needs, and getting to know them personally is extraordinary.
But what about the ones that are so far gone that even all of that is not enough? Do you just let all lingering hints of a glimmer die? How do we as teachers reach the students who lost their sparkle so long ago, they have forgotten what it feels like to care?
Please let me know what you think. I am really interested in other people's insights and experiences with this particular challenge.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
A Bronte Tutorial in Attitudes Toward Behavior
Friday, February 26, 2010
Benchmarks
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
I hope you realize, this means WAR!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Wallpaper
I spent a lot of time as I was walking around my school today looking at the walls. They are covered with the kind of posters pushing positive thinking that you might expect.
"There is no "I" in team."
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." - Eleanor Roosevelt
"Be the change you wish to see in the world." - Mohandas Gandhi
I remember reading similar quotes in my own high school and being deeply touched by some of them. One in particular was written on a marker board in my 11th and 12th grade English classes (taught by the same remarkable teacher).
"If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost. That is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them." - Henry David Thoreau
When I saw a quote such as that hanging in a teacher's room, I knew it was a space where dreaming was allowed. I felt more comfortable sharing ideas and exploring curiosities because I knew I was in a place that embraced dreams and encouraged mistakes.
As I was leaving my classroom today, I noticed a quote hanging above the door that I had never seen before.
"Good is the enemy of Great. And that is one of the key reasons why we have so little that becomes great. Few people attain great lives, in large part because it is just so easy to settle for a good life." - Jim Collins
Initially I was very impressed by this quote. However, as the day wore on, I found myself more troubled by it.
I do not believe that the great people whose words and actions end up plastered all over high school hallways set out to be great. Gandhi probably did not wake up one morning and think to himself, "I am going to be the greatest champion of peaceful protest the world has ever seen, and people will remember me forever." Eleanor Roosevelt did not, I am guessing, look across the dinner table and say to her parents, "Mom. Dad. Someday I am going to marry a man, and he is going to become president, and when he does, I am going to change the role that the first lady plays in this country forever. I am going to give women a strong role model that they will look to for years and years to come."
I could go on, but I think I've ingrained the point I am trying to make. The greatest and most inspiring people in our world did not end up in their respective roles by setting out to be great. Instead, they found an issue they were passionate about changing and they pursued it with all of their heart, soul, mind, and spirit. They refused to rest until they saw their dreams of a better world realized. In the end, this meant that they never rested.
Therefore, while I can truly appreciate the intention of this quote, I believe it misses the mark ever so slightly. Instead of inspiring our youth to be great, I believe that we should inspire them to be passionate about making the world a better place. True greatness comes not from a place of selfish ambition, but from a place of selfless vision.