Practicing my Praxis

I've decided to focus my praxis paper on utilizing technology, and allowing students to express their knowledge through diverse outlets. It sounds neat and tidy when I put it in that short sentence, but the paper is overwhelming me. Right now I'm glad to have my student to focus around, but there is still so much that is making it into my paper.

Working to edit and define my ideas is an arduous process. I want to talk about different kinds of technology, the type of technology that would have helped Jaime the most, why technology needs to be brought into the classroom, how to make the use of technology meaningful, and I was thinking about including why I would use multimedia portfolios.

Any suggestions on what you want to hear? What will help me focus my teaching? I need your help, or else I fear my paper will be a lot of pieces with no true synthesis of my ideas.

Don't Turn the Lights On

So I know we are all in study mode. The next few weeks are stressful, and can even push us to the verge of a nervous breakdown. To keep all of you focused and sane, I have decided to share one of my favorite new bands: Chromeo. It is a two man band that is a mixture of funk and pop; they sound like they belong in the 80s. Their music is very entertaining and addicting, but the complexity of their lyrics also surprised me. Sometimes I think we forget the value of musical lyrics, and I plan to use music a lot in my classroom. I think we have all seen the rolling eyes, the groans of despair, the sunken shoulders of our students that come when we mention poetry. We need to remember that there are brilliant voices in today's world. Poets are no longer confined to paper; song is just as powerful an instrument.

"There must be another way
When she's gone to a better place
And loneliness will hurt you if you can't get through the night
Then the moment starts to fade
And dawn is just an hour away
I feel she's watching over and it gets me through the night"


Whenever you are finding a moment of pure stress, a moment when you just need to smile, check out their music.

Such a Quiet Home

My husband and my two dogs have gone to Chicago for the weekend. My husband and his dad are going to the Northwestern game together, and I'm terrible jealous. The worst part is not that I'm missing the game, the worst part is how quiet my small home is without my family. I have never lived alone, and now I know why. I have two televisions on just to make it feel like I have more people here!

I thought that my weekend would be peaceful. I have a long list of homework that needs to be done. There are dishes to put away, laundry to do, but none of it feels right without one of my corgis being too close to my feet. My queen bed feels too big to sleep on, so I plan to sleep on my couch. My dinner that I cooked was too large, so I guess I have lunch for tomorrow. At least I have this blog to distract me for a few minutes...

Perhaps it is sad that I'm so uncomfortable being alone, but I think it shows how important family is to me. So while I sit here in the too quiet stillness, I'll just remember that they will be back in a few days. Too soon, they will be annoying me again!

Vote!

Tuesday night was a fantastic experience. My professor and I went to West Liberty and helped our students from our English education program vote for the first time. We were able to help five people, who had never voted before, exercise their rights as American citizens. Seeing how exited they all were to be able to vote, to share their voice as citizens, was inspiring.
Most of us are handed the right to vote. I was born in America. I grew up expecting to vote. All I had to do when I turned eighteen was show up, and I got to vote. I didn’t need to prove that I knew how the government worked, or that I knew who the Majority Leader of the House of Representatives was, or that I knew who took over when the Vice-President could no longer lead the country. Our country believes that because I was born here, I naturally have the right to vote even if I don’t know a single part of our government.
For immigrants, the road to voting is much longer and more difficult. To gain citizenship, immigrants must take a test that covers everything from naming a State Senator, to knowing the role of the Supreme Court, to explaining the difference between the executive and judicial branches of our government. I would wager that 90% of our voters would not be able to answer these questions. That is why I have so much respect for the students in our program.
They come every Thursday night after working all day and going home to make dinner for their families. The students come when they are tired, when they are sick, just to work on their English skills and gain their citizenship. The work that they put into becoming citizens is astounding. That is why Tuesday night was so special: they had earned the right to walk in and put their years of waiting and work behind them by casting their first vote as Americans.
I was so proud of them. We all walked in as a group, and I’m glad I was there to support them. I saw how nervous they were; many of them had brought every piece of paper they had that proved their citizenship so that they could not be turned away. I saw the pride in one student’s face as he showed me his voter registration card he received in the mail after passing his citizenship test. His eyes were intense, but his smile was wide as he pointed to the physical proof that he would be able to vote for the first time. Years of practice with English, months of memorizing names and parts of the government, and hours of anticipation all came together in just a few moments as they stepped behind the American Flag curtain that covered their voting booths.
As each student walked out, we cheered as a group. It wasn’t about what party was being voted for; it was about the reality that citizenship was in their hands. There may be people who will always look at them as outsiders or foreigners; all of the practice and hard work in the world cannot change everyone’s mind. But my students walked out of that building proud, realizing that they ARE citizens, and seeing that their hard work paid off.

Working with Buddies

As I was discussing with Bonnie during our break last week, I really love having buddy letters as part of my classes.  It is so easy to become lost in the theory and the texts that we are presented with.  Sometimes I need a reminder that the entire purpose for my education is to educate students. But the buddy letters can bring more than a connection to students:  it takes me back to the mindset of being a student. 

My favorite letters that I've received this semester was two weeks ago.  My student's class was lucky enough to get a grant that brought laptops into their classroom.  The students were really excited, but the administration failed to have the proper internet setup.  The students can't save their items, they have no way to use the computers for research, and it is impossible to print from them.  Such a wonderful opportunity was given to the students, but the lack of communication created a huge dilemma. 

We need to remember as teachers that when we act for students, we need to be ready for their reactions.  The students in the classroom with the laptops are so frustrated that they don't even want to use them anymore.  Middle school students have a short temper and an even shorter attention span.  We need to keep our promises and keep them excited in our classrooms.  I hope that I always remember that if I make a promise or have a great idea, I need to follow through for my students.

Fears About My Memoir

I have been very lucky in having a writing group that is not judgmental or really "workshoppy" in the mean way.  My memoir topic is very personal and very close to my heart.  Writing out the experiences I went through with my grandma's death this summer took a lot of work, a lot of strength, and a big leap. 

The problem is, I have a lot of fear surrounding my choice to write about such a sensitive subject.  I'm too scared to show my family.  I'm scared that Grandma wouldn't have wanted so much shared about her life.  I'm scared that I wasn't able to show her for the amazing, loyal, caring person she was. 

I think I was ready to type it out, but now I feel like I can't get it back.  I'm not a very emotional person, especially with others.  The  majority of my feelings remained locked inside or written on the pages of my journal. The interesting part about when I began typing it, I started and didn't stop for over an hour hour.  When I was done, I had almost ten pages (double spaced).  I guess that if I had so much inside of me, it was time to let it out. 

six words about my week

Misunderstandings create tears.  I'm the shoulder.

I love this exercise!  It is so much more fun than writing a lengthy poem or a drawn out explanation about my week at work.  I could have detailed the gossip, given you the shouts and the anger, but instead I left you thinking for yourself about what the actual "misunderstandings" were.  Isn't that more fun?

It freed me from the guilt of sharing the details of my co-workers personal feelings.  It freed me from the fear of giving you the wrong impression of people.  I promise you the phone calls and texts could have created quite an interesting narrative, but I think the sentence above is much more poetic, much more enticing.

I'm going to use this with my students.  The task is flexible.  I can have them do this instead of turning in an outline with their thesis listed at the top.  I can have them create them for other papers that they are reading during workshop so the author can see if their view is coming across.  As teachers, we need ideas to pull out whenever the class needs a little spice.  The six word summary is officially in my bag o' tricks.

THANKS HEMINGWAY!

Speak

I just finished the novel Speak and recommend it highly for those of you that have not read it.  There is an art teacher in the novel who changes the way that Melinda (the main character) feels about communication and expression.  The teacher has each student pull a topic from a globe and they have the entire year to sculpt, paint, draw, or use any other creative outlet to express what the topic is to them.  Melinda draws the word "tree" and creates image after image after image of different types of trees until she finally comes up with a simple, slightly imperfect tree that encompasses what she wanted to create. 
How do we give our students the ability to try and fail and try and fail and try again until they are happy with their creation, all the while not judging their failures but their effort?  How can we give A's without the perfect "A work" to back our decision?  I want my students to feel like they can take risks and not be punished for them.  But how do I prove to administrators and parents that this IS learning?

Remembering My Roots

I read Jackie's blog and it helped me to remember how much I loved writing when I was younger.  My dad owns a monument shop and every weekend I went with him while he sandblasted headstones and grave markers to different cemeteries throughout Iowa.  While he worked hard for our family, I wandered the paths of stone to find a place to settle and read or write. 

The one constant about cemeteries is that they are peacefully quiet.  As long as a walked far enough away to lose the sound of my father's work I could lose myself in the silence.  I'm not sure if it was the quiet or the constant reminder of all the lives that had existed before me, but cemeteries were always a place that inspired me to write.  There is a calmness and a clarity that comes to me when I'm there.  My words flowed a little more freely, my poetry came together a little more easily, and I didn't question every word that was going into my stories.  I wish I still had those notebooks that I took with me.  It would be wonderful to see my writing when it was less inhibited than it is when I'm writing for a grade.

With my memoir I'm trying to lose those conventional thoughts that have been bashed into my brain throughout school.  I'm trying not to worry about leading the reader, but instead letting the story lead me.  I just recently axed my first memoir idea and started over.  Let us all hope that my writing takes me to a new place, that is truly me, and is inspired like the poems and stories I wrote in those cemeteries so many years ago. 

LOL, im xited. C U L8R!

As a teacher, I'm responsible for making sure that my students are competent writers.  Part of that means that they are comfortable and confident in their writing, and part of that means that they know the rules of grammar, punctuation, and spelling.  What must come first?  What is more important?

Most of my classes have been focusing on this topic lately, and I thought it might be helpful to write out my thoughts.  As a student, I would never have considered turning in any work with abbreviations, text talk, or misspelled words.  It always seemed to be an insult to the teacher that I would find that appropriate.  But then again, I didn't do a whole lot of texting in high school because there was no such thing as unlimited text message plans. 

My conclusion is this:  if my students want to use text talk or slang in their journals and private writings, then I have no need to mark them down.  If a student hands in their one pager, essay, outline, or formal paper with text talk or slang then I will correct and discuss their writing choices.  I want to set my students up for success, and I don't think it would be fair for them to leave my class thinking that writing in short hand or using slang in formal writing is an appropriate thing to do. 

Silver Lining

I've been thinking about the fact that we will all be responsible for posting grades electronically in our schools.  It is easy to sit down and think of all the reasons that I hate the person who invented power school and infinite campus, but there has to be a silver lining.

My younger brother has never been a fan of school.  He is incredibly intelligent, one of the most charismatic people I've ever known, and he would rather hit his fingers with a hammer than pick up a book.  For years my Mother tried working with the teachers to find a way to monitor his progress, and it was only through the daily emails and having my Mother sign off on his homework that our family was able to get my brother through high school.  He wasn't as lucky in college.  He failed out of two community colleges and eventually found a job where he is happy and successful.  If it weren't for my Mother's meddling and constant supervision, there is no chance that he would have graduated. 

So here is the silver lining:  the annoyance and time will be worth it if we can get one more student to graduate.  This is why we are all here.  We want our students to be successful, but not every student wants it for his or herself.  If I can have a parent or a family member fighting with me to save the student, then I'll take whomever I can get.

What really matters?

I think we all have days and weeks where we feel that our live is stressful and overly complicated.  I worry about getting my readings done, making my sales goals at work, folding all of the jeans so that they line up perfectly on the right side, keeping my house clean, and walking my dogs so they don't get fat.  But does it really matter?

I had a very special, very beautiful girl come shopping in my store today.  Keely is 14, and she was granted a special gift by the Make a Wish Foundation.  What was it that she wanted more than a trip or a concert?  She wanted to go shopping at American Eagle.  All she wanted was to be able to get out and be a normal teenager.

This girl has had more challenges and hurdles than I've had in my lifetime.  It tears me apart that this polite, sweet girl is living with the pain and fear that comes with her cancer.  When she came in she had a huge smile on her face, and asked if someone would have a little bit of time to help her find some cute clothes for school...all she wanted was to look cute for school.

Of course we all dropped the menial tasks that we were completing to help her, she was just that wonderful.  But I couldn't stop but think about how lucky I was, how I get to go home to my husband and two dogs.  I thought about how wonderful my time with Ken has been and how we get to have children in the future.  There are so many things that she'll never get the chance to do, but all she wanted was to feel beautiful.  She truly is.

There are these points in our life where we have to look inside.  I've been sitting up for hours not knowing why I can't sleep.  But I know now.  It's because I want to give her just a little bit of what I have.  A little more time.  A little more hope.  A little more.

I think Keely did more for me than I did for her.  All I did was sell her some jeans and tops.  She put my life in perspective.  She helped me see what matters.  Thank you Keely, you're in my prayers, and you're amazing. 

Need to Know, and Want to Know

My name's Renee, and I've never blogged before.  I have written in a journal forever, but never was there the audience (or at least the chance for an audience) that this publicly displayed blog holds.  Luckily it is for a class, so my thoughts will mostly focus around required readings, my ever changing thoughts about writing, and my fears of having to teach high school students how to write. 

This is my second semester in the School of Education at Iowa, and I'm so excited.  I graduated from Iowa three years ago with a degree in English and a minor in Ancient Civilizations...it just so happens that there are zero jobs for English majors, let alone a job that actually challenged and intrigued me.  That's when I started thinking about what I really wanted to do with my life.  I certainly didn't want to work retail jobs forever, and I don't have the commitment to sit down and write novels (I always quit on my books about three chapters in because I get bored with my own ideas).  Teaching was the only profession that made sense, the only profession that fit me. 

I want to teach high school English.  I want to teach Shakespeare, the Odyssey, the Great Gatsby, Robert Frost , Edgar Allen Poe, and all of the things that people claim to hate because they had bad teachers.  I find it inexcusable that we have teachers in school that make reading and writing a punishment.  Words are beautiful, and I understand that they are more beautiful for some than for others, but why can't we as teachers breath a little life into these stories?  Why can't we extract some passion from out students? 

My father has been one of my biggest inspirations for becoming a teacher.  He is so intelligent, so driven, so charismatic, but he never went to college and he hates books.  I've only seen him read one book in my entire life.  One book.  The only reason he read the book was because it was a story about a close friend of his who died fighting for our country in the Middle East (the book is Black Hawk Down, and I recommend it).  I can't remember a month when I haven't read at least one book, let alone twenty years. 

As a teacher, I want all of my students to find a passion for reading.  My ideas for reading and writing are different, but I think that they have merit.  If you can get a student to read, you can get them to write.  If you can get them to write honestly, then they can start to believe that they have something important to say.  If you can give your students confidence in their thoughts and beliefs, then they will have confidence in themselves.  If they believe in themselves, then they will have the strength to break down the barriers that life puts before them.  Reading leads to writing leads to realization, and that is why I want to be an English teacher.