Unknowing How to Teach

Crawdads and Delible Tattoos

2006-06-21T10:31:00.000-07:00

To prove that I’m well, I went on a little adventure this last weekend. The opportunity for the adventure was opened by my wife’s trip to the East Coast to see relatives. Lest you think awry, I chose to do things that my wife does not enjoy, but that I do. She suffers through my interests like a true martyr, going to spicy food restaurants, gawking at motorcycles and shopping for ties. She is cheerful about it. This weekend, though, I thought I would indulge my interests at a time she would not have to feign delight. To show her and you that I did nothing too awfully naughty I made a photo journal of Saturday (Crawdad Festival) and Sunday (Tattoo Festival.) The tattoo was applied with an airgun and will be dead by Saturday.

Here a couple of the highlights. The full show is on Flickr.

When Good Things Happen to Bad People

2006-05-14T19:20:00.000-07:00

I am a bad penitent. The last penance I received in the confessional (my secret) and the last entry in this blog, in which I promised to write as a way to fight my obesity are both unfulfilled. I am damned.

However, my weight is down ten pounds. I have been counting calories rather than letting the spirits move me when I eat. I’m kind of metaphysical and unconsciously see the longings of my appestat as rooted in the mysteries of the unseen and (hey check the name of my blog!) “unknown.”

That is self-delusion – news flash. By counting the calories in what I eat - before I eat - I can picture the absurdity of putting 30 gallons in a 20-gallon tank. It is called – duh! – objectification. It faces in the fly of my beliefs about testing as a way to measure where one is in mastery of life. I am not going to attempt any reconciliation at this time or maybe never. Just leave it as a pair o’ ducks.

My Church and the world of Blog will not go easy on my impenitence. I am, nonetheless, down ten pounds and am doing physical labor daily. The sun shines on sinners. The World of black and white exists not. Malefactors flourish.

Girth Hurdle

2006-04-07T10:03:00.000-07:00

I am not making this up. Yesterday’s obituaries listed, among others, the following last names. “Tribble, Dibble, Friddle, Ding and Dong.” Barring a hoax by a bored obit editor, and with sincere respect for the deceased, it has to be a hundred year coincidence. Happily, Kerby was not among the names and would not have made them funnier, especially from my personal point of view.

Doctors have given me a clean bill of health and ceased my meds. I breathe easily and often. I have one last hurdle. The months of idleness have left me with a serious weight problem. I tip 210 pounds avoirdupois on the scales and my height varies between 5’ 3” and 5’6” depending on what forms I’m filling out.

As a penance for this profligacy, I am reviving this blog and making my progress toward a loss of 60 pounds one of the themes. It is embarrassing, but I don’t want to see Kerby, Derby and Furby in the paper.

SURPRISE!!

2005-12-07T08:25:00.000-08:00

Well, well, how time’s fly alights, drops a speck, and takes a swat from fate. The cobwebs of Halloween and the extra pounds of Thankturkey Day have come and not gone since my last entry here at Lake Woe-be-blog. This journal subsided just a year after I began it. I have not been able to return to the inspiration of relationships with students and I have not died. I don’t know which is the good and which the bad news of that pair of facts.
I have decided to start posting again. I will need to take off in a new direction since I no longer leave skid marks on the education superhighway. Here are some thoughts. I will accept suggestions from among my vast international readership. Please, fan club presidents speak for your memberships, so my server is not swamped.

Idears

Self-indulgent babble about my health, hobbies, and pungent thought-life. No wait, that’s what the blog is now.

Maybe discussion starter posts. For example: Dr. Phil, who was on Larry King last night. I’m like the dog on the Simpsons when Dr. Phil talks. He may be stringing words together, but I hear blah blah blah. As much as I can make out, he advocates that dysfunctional relationships be replaced with psychotic self-centeredness. In all kindness, he is a jackass. That huge bald head and tiny little eyes coupled with an accent from the movie Deliverance, gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Movie reviews. Since I am condemned to rest, formerly my favorite activity, I see lots of movies. On-demand and Netflix are deductible as medical expenses. So we could compare Ben Stiller to Adam Sandler, Tom Hanks to Jimmy Stewart, Kevin Costner to Scooby-Doo, and Hellboy to Dr. Phil.

TV reviews. Especially comedy. I don’t know where the modern writers get off crossing the line between comedy-of-error humor, the essence of sitcoms, to writing about plain icky errors. I can Curb My Enthusiasm big time. Same for Extras and many others. They give me the creeps.

Music. I’ve indulged my self with a Rhapsody/mp3 player combo. 6gb. 1500 tracks. I have a thousand now. Six Tom Waits albums and almost as much Peggy Lee. Also Schubert, Chopin. Much blues and jazz. John Williams movie themes, which were written to punch up onscreen adventure and romance. Helps give me courage to face my naps.

Food and diet. I’ve taken to “intuitive” Atkins and am dropping weight faster than Bush is losing votes. It may be my invention. I don’t eat on a schedule and don’t prepare meals despite being an accomplished cook. I wait until I can feel the hunger, and then eat some protein until that goes away. Then I don’t think about food until the next attack. During the process I have compared my puny hunger pangs to those of people in the world whose hunger is great enough to produce real physical pain. I’m thinking of making some money with a “Scream-Threshold of Hunger Pain Diet” for which people would send the money saved on food to world relief agencies or me. I’ll rename the blog, “Unknowing How to Eat.”

New name. I’ll have to change the name of the blog to reflect the new direction and to attract a different circle of spammers. Maybe “Unthinking How to Think” or “How to Unwatch Dr. Phil. I’ll have to give more unthought to this.

Well, here it is, folks. Whichever way this goes, you can bet I will cater to my fans and be posting more often than every six weeks.
Ciao for niow.

From There to Eternity

2005-10-16T15:26:00.000-07:00

I spent fifteen years teaching in a middle school. I had wonderful students but it was a true inner city school in a part of town with few privileges. Nonetheless, I had students who excelled – some academically, some in sports, and some in violent crime. I had a student who shot his sleeping father in the back of the head. He got away with it until, a year later, he did the same to his mother. He now resides at the Folsom Prison of Johnny Cash fame. Another was shot in the face during a drug deal. Another of my students, a young lady, witnessed her father shoot her mother, then himself. There are more stories.

One account, however, stands out. The name was Joe. He was a quiet, “A” student. Behavior excellent, which in teacher talk means passive. He lived with his father; his mother was in jail for molesting him and his brothers. He promoted out of my middle school. After he left high school he worked for a private security firm and during most of his career had a good record. One Sunday morning for reasons I have forgotten – if there are “reasons” for violence – he kidnapped and tied up a fellow worker, then throughout the night and into the next day shot and killed four others. By noon he was in his car surrounded by cruisers and SWAT personnel. He told police, “I’m going to be more famous than the Unabomber!” and shot himself in the head.

This occurred on Monday, September 10, 2001. Joe did indeed replace Ted Krazynski in the papers the next morning. As I viewed the pictures in the paper I noticed how Joe resembled his younger brother, who was by then in my class. It was not hard to recall him as the quiet student who sat in Group Five in the back corner of the room. As those bad men flew into the buildings in New York later that morning, Joe’s story flew with them to a back-page paragraph.

The past is not embraceable and the future unpredictable. There is nothing except Aristotle’s “Golden Moment,” the present time. The present moment is indivisible – a fraction of a nanosecond is still just a record of the past. This incalculability resembles how some have used the words eternal and infinite. The mystics, from one of whom I derived the title of this blog, all, from both East and West, meditated on the present.

This has been a bad school year for me. I have taught only four days and they were painful. However my enforced leisure has given me a chance to meditate. Like Joe, I cannot undo the past nor control the future. Everything is Now.

Bumps

2005-10-03T03:39:00.000-07:00

This past week was interesting – in a way. Tuesday: saw doctor, blood tests. Wednesday: Doc called. Blood tests indicate blood clots. Thursday: appointment for scan in “nuclear medicine” at 11:30. Showed lungs full blood clots. 12:30 – in ER. 3:00 – on heparin drip. 5:00 – fun ride on gurney across hospital campus to room. They let me go yesterday, after three days of very fine care. Blood thinners for six months to prevent more clotting. No riding Trusty with blood thinned because of bleeding dangers if I fall off.

Upside – I am alive. Possible to get back to work, but not right now. Support from family wonderful. There’s nothing like a little bump with mortality to sort out the important things. Thought-life is diminished. That’s good. Thinking leads to lots of trouble – and too much blogging.

More soon.

Piggily Wiggy

2005-09-25T18:47:00.000-07:00

Scottobear just prompted me by email to post. It was a very raggedy week. Another relapse and I’m getting frustrated. I was in class Monday, but didn’t teach because of weak voice and low energy. Subs the rest of the week and the weekend hasn’t been better.

Will see the doc again tomorrow, but strangers will fill in for me again this week. I haven’t been able to do much but sit, surf, and sip. Up for a few tasks, then back down. Been trying computer games, reading and, otherwise doing what I can to not think of the sweet people enrolled in my classes.

Mental state is ebbing. Sitting is not normal. I expect to jump up and get back to work on a momentary basis, but. . . . ? Keep overeating, because the food is there and it helps the ennui, at least momentarily. Without the drama of interaction with students and colleagues, not much to blog about.

Next post will be upbeat and reconnected. – promise.

Back in the Zolight Twine

2005-09-18T06:59:00.000-07:00

Too much up and too much down this, my late first week of school. It was a bear. A bipolar bear. Couldn't post. The week previewed for me how things may be when I get old. Adrenalin pushed me through the school day and dropped me like a brick at the end. Ah, the Flaw of Gravity. Saw kids from last year, jumped up and down and yelled, met new kids and did not jump, because despite swaggers and staggers, they scare easy. Eye contact, listening, sweetness and light! I love meeting new kids.

Have a set of twins and the twin of a former student. Have a nice senior transfer from Chicago with interesting stories from the coddlin’ town. Little red-haired girl spent time this summer in England, her mum’s homeland. Just missed the bombs. Have students from the middle school, where I taught. Bubby came by to see me. Back with his girlfriend. Good match. Both have self-confidence problems.

Much, much more of this stimulation. Enough to keep me awake the first two nights. A lengthy back rub by the Beautiful One put me to sleep like a baby the third night. This weekend has been relapse city. Trouble breathing. Trouble lifting feathers. I feel like a need “assisted living,” crappy new-speak for an old folks home. Can’t wait to ride the adrenaline rocket tomorrow.

Rooms

2005-09-13T05:24:00.000-07:00

Spent too much time in this chair over the last ten days. Its soft leather is way too plush for the home of a humble teacher. I can sleep in it as well as eat, drink, compute, watch TV, meditate, and think. I don’t know which of those is the worst. Probably thinking. A perfectly fine illness “sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,” – no wait, Hamlet was talking about “resolution,” not pneumonia.

Scottobear posted this a while back: "There is an Indian Belief that everyone is in a house of four rooms: A physical, a mental, an emotional and a spiritual. Most of us tend to live in one room most of the time, but unless we go into every room everyday, even if only to keep it aired, we are not complete." - Rumer Godden. Too much time in the mental room could take you to the mental ward.

Tomorrow I ascend from the Womb Chair and make my way to where I belong. I’m going to all my rooms, including where I teach. My doctor juggled the meds and it’s working. I feel better than I have for a long time. I have much to catch up with.

“Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomorrow. . .

Sorry About Beebee

2005-09-12T14:06:00.000-07:00

I feel bad after I’ve been severe with someone. I was tough on Beebee in the previous post. The heart and head feed each other and I did not balance my views of Beebee’s cold-heartedness with something she can’t help, – her feeblemindedness. I hope to soften my harsh words for her with this list of excuses.

Flunking out of Smith in her freshman year traumatized her and she built a shell around her brain.
She had no human contact after she left Smith, being married to the elder George.
She didn’t know that there had been a catastrophe that displaced hundreds of thousands.
She thought they were waiting for the game to start.
She meant that her visit to the arena was “working out very well,” because she was able to find it.
Her mind is just too beautiful for her to waste. She herself explained that just before the Iraq War started. "Why should we hear about body bags, and deaths, and how many, what day it's gonna happen, and how many this or what do you suppose?" she said, with smooth eloquence. "It's not relevant. So, why should I waste my beautiful mind on something like that?"
Her parents never found the special education for which she qualified

For all the excuses on this list, she said it best herself, didn’t she? When you have a mind that beautiful, you don’t dare waste a drop. It could get ugly.

What's that Smell?

2005-09-12T06:03:00.000-07:00

"And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this — this is working very well for them.” Beebee

Respect for the views of honest folks is more important to me than my own politics and essential to my religion, so I don’t talk politics much. I report, however, when a toilet is out of order or when somebody’s sleeping on the sidewalk. I notice when someone’s hair is on fire and offer to help. As a nurturing educator, I do what I can to prevent idiots from soiling themselves in public.

The quote above agitates me. It agitates to the point where I my usual comfort with any honest point of view – left, right, middle, radical, up, down, or sideways – is disturbed. I am at a time of life, where my hot buttons are pretty cool, especially when the opinion is that of a young person. However, this quote is not from a young person. It is, in my politest words, an utterance from the disordered mentality of a geriatric fool whose heart is more in touch with the political troubles of her little boy, than the broken hearts of real people.

I have seen more images of big, tough men and women in tears this past week than almost a lifetime. Is that “working well?” One cute little three year old on the news last night who was “in the arena,” said, “I want to go home.” I see people, who, in this Communication Age can’t find people they love. Isn’t that just the perfect definition of “working well?” I see hundreds of people in lines that lead only to other lines. That works so well.

Terms like ignorance and stupidity come to mind when I think of the quote. However, these do not apply. Education has done all it can for such people. Despite Locke, Voltaire, Hobbes, Berkeley, and all the other tight dudes of the Enlightenment - education, learning, knowledge and books are not the cure for a heart gone awry. We can’t teach that. We can only give our opinion that something is very, very out of order.

Jammed Up

2005-09-10T10:22:00.000-07:00

Sitting (at right) is all I’m up to and it’s a disappointment. Pneumonia symptoms persist. Flunked a treadmill test yesterday because my blood pressure went up to 270/130. I ‘m missing the most exciting days of school. Meeting fascinating people. Solidifying friendships. Making people laugh and maybe learn.

Missed a flight to Mexico a couple years ago. Wife and I had heads full of beach and cocina fina. Bad. Cost of non-refundable tickets plus new ones about a grand. Really bad. A girlfriend married another guy in the ‘60’s when I was 8000 miles away and couldn’t do anything about it. Came down with worst case of flu I ever had within hours of landing in Germany, some years ago. Lost two weeks of a six-week stay. It sucked.

The day after my daughter’s ninth birthday, someone hopped the fence and stole her birthday bicycle. Big badness. My son flunked out of high school. When I was about twenty my car broke down in the Mojave Desert, and I had to sell the car for less than the cost of the gas in its tank. Got a ride to Denver in an open convertible. Sick for a week with severe sunburn.

In sixth grade I was the tallest boy at 5 feet 6 inches. I had big feet and everyone in the whole damn world said I was going to be huge. I am now 5 feet 4 inches in height and 90 pounds heavier. Once bought a beautiful cream puff in a bakery in Japan. It had a whipped seaweed filling, which aped cream, but had a brackish taste. Dis-a-point-munt!

Let’s review. I replaced those Mexico tickets and the Beautiful One and I had a memorable vacation – every minute a joy. I have seen how the girlfriend turned out and my gratitude is boundless. She’s a nickel next to the million bucks I married. Made a friend when I was sick in Germany who gave me a traditional cure. Many shots of schnapps followed by two tiny bottles of foul German bitters. Next day, no symptoms and had a new friend.

Replaced daughter's stolen bike with a better one. Going to son’s graduation from university this December. That sunburn healed, and my aunt gave me her ’56 Ford with the V-8 engine. I enjoy my size on airplanes, in compact cars and daybeds and never think about it any other time. The creampuff was a learning experience and a story I’ve told for 40 years.

Hope to be writing about kids very soon. My bread has never landed jam-side down and it won’t this time

Pneumonia - A Cure for First-Day Jitters

2005-09-06T05:12:00.000-07:00

One August a few years back the Beautiful One won a raffle. Week in Maui. Had to schedule it for return the day before Labor Day. Usually I spend that week getting ready for the year, but Maui is Maui. Wonderful trip. Perfect vacation. Second one of the summer and free! The only snag was that the travel agency did not donate first class travel to the raffle sponsor.

Our flight back went through Honolulu. When we got in line to re-board the flight there, the line did not move. There was a cryptic announcement over the PA, and then a storm of rumors blew through the check-in lines. The airline had gone broke and the FAA had grounded all their planes everywhere in the world, especially Honolulu. After some hours of uncertainty and impatience, the airline gave us vouchers to stay in a hotel, the worst one in town. It sat under a noisy freeway. But this was Oahu and the worst of Paradise beats the best of Hell.

Short story. Didn’t get back until the third day of school. This is the only other occasion when I have missed opening day at the carnival. This time it’s kind of the best of Hell. I don’t feel all that bad until I exert myself. Example: getting out of my chair. Mildly frustrated, but teaching without energy is not teaching at all. Better the new kids don’t meet me until I can yell and jump up and down again. Shooting for Friday. It’s okay.

Happy New . . .uhhhh

2005-09-05T13:28:00.000-07:00

Labor Day is the teacher’s New Year’s Eve. It is not that we blow horns and wear paper hats. We don’t stay up till after midnight, although many of us sleep little with the stress and excitement. It is much more of a beginning time than January 1. For some teachers, who are not on the cycle dictated by nature – Labor Day to Memorial Day – this is not the major day God intended. Year round schools are abnormal.

Also there are little setbacks, which emerge to disappoint some of us geared up for the first day of the rest of the normal year. I’ve been running out of steam very quickly for several days now, and the doc told me this morning it’s a mild case of pneumonia. Can’t go in to meet my new friends until at least Friday – if then. Can’t enjoy one of the most exciting days of the year.

Patience. Good test. Everything is good.

Guilt

2005-09-03T07:01:00.000-07:00

It’s hard to get my inner eye focused on school beginning. The paper, the web and CNN have distracted with stories which make the skin crawl. Phuket, Somalia, Cambodians in Laotian camps – those are the tragedies that we rich can-do Americans know how to avoid. I thought that until this week. Now I see all of those poor, Third World events right here at home. We appear to cope more poorly than the "poor" places of the world.

It’s all very close. My beautiful wife got her masters in social work at Tulane and worked in the neighborhoods worst affected. She has great memories of her two years there – the food, the music, the lush ambience. We had New Orleans high on our list of travel destinations. We might well have gone this summer had we not decided to spend our travel budget on home improvement.

I have been corresponding with a neat web designer to have him replace the stock Blogger template I use on this blog with something unique. Uncharacteristically, he was silent all this week. He posted a comment to my previous entry, explaining. I repeat it for those who only scan my posts for jokes – luckless souls.

se7en said...

Hi there, I'm not sure when I will be able to continue on building that new template for you, I am now officially a refugee of New Orleans and my PC's and all my work materials are left behind. I may be able to get setup to continue my work in the next few days or a week if you would like me to continue. I will understand if you chose to use someone else to do it though.

I can't access my old ISP's email account so I've moved my email to biteseven at gmail.com if you want to reach me.

Thanks!
seven!

He does interesting work and is equally interesting himself. His blog design site is http://www.blogsgonewild.net/ and the first draft of my new template can be found at http://wildblog1.blogspot.com/, along with links to other stuff by him. Anybody out there who wants to jazz up his/her site at a very reasonable price – contact this guy. I’m sure he will need the business.

Meanwhile, with guilt and a greater thankfulness for the simple things of life, the Wife and I enjoy the bland weather, a fridge full of cold drinks and food, cooled home, cars and workplaces, open stores, clean dry beds and time to consider the appalling plights of others. There's the rub.

The Extreme-Sports Merry-Go-Round

2005-09-01T07:03:00.000-07:00

I have one foot more or less firmly planted on the merry-go-round that will speed along until mid-June, stopping only for holidays. It will go very fast. I tell you this from experience. The holiday breaks will go faster than the 181 teaching days. I treat the breaks as if they do not exist. One leaves school the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and in an instant it is Monday next.

I wonder if retirement will go that fast. I don’t ponder that much, because I would like to teach the rest of my life. I’m a pleasure hog.

Young teachers sometimes see the obligations more than the joys. The duties have grown more specific and numerous over the last six years. The beginners (and some literal-minded old teachers, too) may not have learned to prioritize. One must pick and choose those tasks that are essential to learning, do the paperwork adequately, and then drop those things, which, under honest scrutiny, make no sense.

I am not going to list my priorities, because first, I do not use this blog to give advice, and secondly, I don’t want my boss to realize that what is important to my mind may not be to his.

Right now I’m concentrating on the higher-level priorities – the ones that slip away under the pressures of preparation and the daily grind. I have to focus myself on these things before the 160+ new people come into my room. Respect for them, even the obnoxious and troubled ones. Fighting stereotypes. Not racial or gender stereotypes, but the little shadows from the subconscious. Kids who resemble ones who have given me grief in the past. Misinterpreting a behavior, which has in some historical moment far away signaled trouble but is now just new-student insecurity. I have to fight the tendency to be unkind at those times when I have 3 hours of work to complete in one.

Life gives us perpetual duties like taking out garbage, dusting, brushing teeth, laundry, etc. for which there is no permanent fix. Calling to mind those top needs is one of those duties for me. For some people, like by beautiful wife, these things are more automatic, but as for me, I need to focus on them, to get myself centered. There will be little time for it once the merry-go-round is up to speed.

Sisyphus Equals Sissy Fuss

2005-08-27T09:42:00.000-07:00

I don’t know if I’m the only one with this. All my life, I’ve had times when I carry an inner lump of ice, which paralyzes my will and hopes. I suspect it has to do with depression, and most people wouldn’t have a clue what I’m writing about. Anyway, what surprises me about my inner iceberg, is that a touch from someone, a show of sympathy, or some little shock can melt this frigidity in an instant. I can then take action happily and feel good about the outcome. I hope to heck I am not so crazy that this little micro-bipolar thing is unique to me. Comments?

Anyway, after I posted that bumptious piece yesterday (afterwards it reminded me of the John Ashcroft song – ick!) I went to school to clear up my room assignment issue. My ice said there was no hope. The room I used last year was in the last row of “bungalows,” the 60’s term for temporaries and slated for demolishment last January, postponed till June, but still standing until December’05 , next date for demolition. My ice told me I would be re-assigned there, and become a “traveler” from room to room after December, or perhaps be teaching when the bulldozer came to crush my beloved students and me.

The note in my mailbox at school confirmed my dread. It assigned me to the room. The cube became a glacier. I whined to everyone I saw, and waited in a long line to see the interim principal. He calmly explained with humor and kindness, what I knew all along. The “District” rarely meets deadlines and the teardown would have to take place during bad weather and be a rush job. All likelihood pointed to the room lasting till June. Ice gone. River flows. Happy, happy.

The room is the furthest one from the main building - a full five minutes from the teachers’ lounge. Though the rest of the school has undergone a two-year refurbishing, this room is painted (sloppily by some teacher) Wal-Mart greeters’ blue. The desks have missing casters and wobble. There are more carvings in the shelves, cabinets and desks than in a Duerer triptych. Feral cats and a rooster (!) inhabit the crawl space beneath this room. The white boards have gashes and perdurable marks left by teachers who didn’t know their elbow from a permanent marker.

It is magnificent. I get no administrative drive-bys as they do in the main halls. I don’t have to stand in the hall for passing period, because there is no hall and I’m the last room before the baseball fields- so no passing. I’m neighborless and can turn up the CD player and dance with the kids. I can play movies loud enough to drown out the roar of the antique AC. I can nail, glue and paint stuff on the walls. It’s bigger than the “regular” rooms and I can run around and throw my mock tantrums at full throttle.

Youser! Brer Rabbit’s in the briar patch. All due to global warming.

Biggety Stuff I Think of When it's Way Too Early in the Morning

2005-08-26T05:45:00.000-07:00

The eagle never lost so much time, as when he submitted to learn of the crow.
William Blake

Every person has his or her genius. No matter if they are special ed, victims of domestic or real wars, or underprivileged. They may be young or otherwise disabled. They may be obnoxious, obese, or homely. I believe each one has a singular destiny and a genius, unique among all the snowflakes of humanity.

I also believe that this can be derailed. It is possible to make a pig’s ear out of a silk purse. In the ed system the state supe submits to the Secretary of Education, the district supe submits to the state, etc, etc, and my students submit to me and I am a crow. It is my pledge that I will in the year 2005-2006 I will make a strong effort to see my eagles for who they are.

I love the mystics like William Blake. He had more insight into education than John Dewey, Edward Thorndyke and Margaret Spellings all rolled into a ball. Insight, or inner sight, is what I need to fulfill my pledge. I won’t make it. I never do. But we are in a time of beginnings and dreams.

Fly eagles, fly!

Chatter-Shadow-Boxing

2005-08-23T08:07:00.000-07:00

Grandfather right; Father left - in hundreds of photos glum, proving family trait.

Alcohol, caffeine, nicotine, Prozac, etc. are common antidotes for what runs in my family - anxiety/depression. I may or may not have used one or none of the aforementioned – not telling. There is one palliative I don’t use much. It’s non-stop chatter. I was in the chair at my dentist last week, waiting the half hour for his 20 minute’s of work when I heard the entire life story, complete catalog of opinions, humorous (to her) asides, several jokes, and peels of laughter from a lady coping with her denta-stress. My dentist is a sweet man who listened and responded when she let him, while I waited. It sucked with great force.

I dislike people who do what I’m going to do here today. I’m going to overlook my aversion to blather to help me with my beginning-of-school jitters (see previous post,) because of the contraindications of alcohol, nicotine, marijuana, etc. Feel free to move right along to Scottobear (recommended.)

The weekend was great. My lovely daughter drove home from San Francisco. Saw her for the first time since her trip through Thailand, Cambodia and Viet Nam. I spent fourteen months in Asia, during the last Ice Age, so her pics and commentary were very evocative. She visited the Cambodian orphanage started by an orphan. Very compelling place. She is field rep for a state politico whom she bumped into in Ho Chi Minh City on a taxpayer junket. Interesting trip she had.

Got up at 3:30 this morning – I told you I have the jitters. Had to wait until almost 6 am this morning to take ride on Trusty. It was still dark, but the first rays of dawn showed in the east. I don’t mind riding into the dawn – but pitch dark, no. Already warm – 68 degrees. Perfect.

Yesterday, bought the domain, www.wkerby.com. It will take you to this blog. Easier to remember than the current URL. That still works, too, but for those of you who haven’t bookmarked me, who by actual count number 6,461,989,171, the world population minus two, and who can remember that I’m “wkerby,” it may make life happier. Haha.

The brick wall behind this pic of Trusty is gone now. It was crumbling. Most of the bricks are in a pile. Used brick from 1928 is worth at least a buck each. I’m rich. In its place is a nice stucco wall, which gives us a courtyard now. I will post pictures when it is finished with a lengthy piece about walls in education, tying the seemingly disjointed into something truly disconnected – as usual.

I mentioned above the contraindications for alcohol and nicotine. Forgot that nervous chatterboxing, like plain boxing, has some too. I’m so worried that my new students won’t like me that I have unwittingly ensured that my readers don’t. I’ll do better next post. Promise. Thanks for playing therapist.

A Jittery Twenty-Tooth of August

2005-08-22T16:41:00.000-07:00

Went to school today. Plenty of parking, but I’m used to the five-minute walk. Thought I might see some people I know. I did see one student and a couple teachers. Smelled the new paint. I looked for an administrator to talk to about my room assignment. Didn’t see any. Stayed about ten minutes and left. Walked home.

Why this mundane report? This morning’s paper had an article, “Helping Your Child Cope With First Day Jitters.” The TV news has items showing crying children, mothers and experienced elementary teachers, telling them about modeling clay and new friends, snack time and recess – all so fun and very safe.

No media have published a darn thing along the lines of “How Teachers Can Ease Back onto the Bucking Bronc of School,” or “Don’t Worry, They Will Like Your Haircut,” or, “Bad Breath and Your Shirt Tail out Won’t Ruin Your Whole Year!”

So now you know. I have worse first-day jitters than the majority of students. The years don’t help. I’ll go to school several times this week. I’ll probably stay a little longer each time, like wading into a cold creek. Thirty-eight years of this – same every year.

Maybe if I got over my first-day-of-school willies, I would think I know something and start posting a bunch of how-to stuff. Stark panic is better than that.

Making Progress and Outcasts in One Swell Foop

2005-08-20T10:01:00.000-07:00

Reading www.darwinawards.com, a twisted website about amazingly stupid ways people have accidentally killed themselves, thus “improving the human gene pool” I was reminded of the impact of Charles Darwin on education. He was the father of progressivism, the primary social philosophy of the West, and the insidious frame on which Herbert Spencer, then John Dewey, then Jean Piaget and the other heavies of education have hung their notions.

Progressivism supports the idea that the fit flourish, and the unfit flounder, and is also the core belief of the No Chahld Left Behand Act – I think that’s the way you say it. The slogan: “Standards, so that no chahld be left behand.” The progressivism of the NCLB Act is softened by the liberal hope of making unfit specimens into fit ones by doing just the right thing for them. The act is the final kiss-off to the unfit. Let me explain.

The standards the act talks about (I think – - nobody is 100% certain about what the word means) are for the institution of education and it’s victims and are number-based bars under which all participants must scooch. After the school has scooched, and all the chosen fit students have scooched, the institution can claim to have done all of the right things to make the unfit fit. The failures have freely chosen to work at Burger King, join gangs, or enjoy meth and early pregnancies, no fault of the system.

An additional problem is the standards for the students are mandates based on academic literacy and academic math. I don’t mean to saw off the branch on which I sit - I make a living in academics - but I respect three facts. One, the large majority of people in the in this country live happy lives without a huge amount of those two things and acquire of it what they need on their own. Two, the “fit” have parents or significant people who have books and computers, who speak well, and have achieved academically. They cluster in the schools that are well rated. Three, so many truly accomplished academicians, good at talking and writing down stuff, couldn’t blow their noses if the world were made of Kleenex.

Solution: Wait it out until the NCLB movement collapses on its own, like Bolshevism. Meanwhile, please read “Getting it Wrong from the Beginning,” by Kieran Egan.

Buying and Giving - A Difference

2005-08-17T07:04:00.000-07:00

Had a conversation with the Beautiful One last night re the difference between buying and giving. Giving has no bottom line. There is no tit for tat. There is no quid pro quo. A real gift is given and forgotten. There are no catches, provisos, prerequisites or expectations. Most things we call gifts are self-cancelled by one or more of the previous provisions. Christmas cards are notorious non-gifts. We keep a list of people who sent the previous Yule, and stiff the ones who didn’t. Child allowances are not gifts – they are contingent on clean rooms, trash handling, etc.

Teaching in the platonic world of the ideal, is nothing but sheer gift from one living generation to another. In our sorry reality, it is more of a fiscal transaction than a gift. The paper yesterday had pages of achievement exam scores broken down by area, district, and school including those schools with the highest scores in columns next to the wall-of-shamers with the lowest, those schools avoided by all who have a choice.

All of this is because of the merchant mentality dominating education. (I would say bourgeois, but that carries so much baggage from the radical ‘60’s.) Its slogan is, “You get what you pay for!” Ergo the frantic pursuit of the bang for the taxpayer’s buck. And every digit of it undermines the nature of education, which is unconditional gift. And every number lies.

Even what I call the truth of the above paragraphs is colored and twisted by self-interest. I get a nice salary (no complaints.) I have people who are my buddies or to whom I am beholden, who skew my “Truth.” I want people to read my blog. There isn’t much truth in the world not subject to such self-interest. That’s why court trials are so often long, difficult and unpredictable in outcome.

This is why there is so much to unknow. But occasionally, when meditating upon the next "Groundhog's Day," the next beginning, it is good to try for the impossible dream. At least, to think about it - about giving an education to kids, rather than the prostituting it for high scores.

Un-remembering

2005-08-09T10:51:00.000-07:00

My friend, Scottobear, has taken my previous post and run with it. What a good idea! Please check the survey he’s doing. The question touches a nerve, because of all the negative experiences people have had in school.

If I were an “educator” instead of just a person trying to grow kids, I would take Scotto’s findings and turn it into scientist’s fiction, but no need. One of his respondees, Ilene Book wrote something in her blog, which means a lot. It says,

"Force and demands
never work for long.
Love makes
the best
teacher next
to experience."

We remember those who have loved us, and forget those who didn’t care. It’s a fact and a mandate. Remembering is not a sign of brilliance. Bright people have good forgetters. We must forget far more than we remember in order to live happy lives with focus. Forgiving is another level up in the process. Think of the misery brought into the world by those who can do neither.

Ancient History from Primary Sources

2005-08-04T07:18:00.000-07:00

Note: Click on the images for a clear view of the artifacts.

I was going through some boxes of stuff belonging to my late father yesterday. Found this on a page in a little autograph book, popular eons before email. An administrator (with whom every encounter was cool and positive – lest you think I don’t admire my bosses) once asked me out of the blue who my first grade teacher was. Despite my preoccupied head, in a nanosecond, I said, “Mrs. Evans.” He said this ability is universal, although I have tried it and have found exceptions.

Sixty years later, I’m pretty scarred up, not much from the “little strokes of virtue,” though. Mrs. Evans was dead on about sounding out the word elephant, about writing a decent cursive script, and about happiness – especially about happiness. I wish my years in school had continued as wisely and happily as they began.

Incidentally, despite the promise of the title page of the little book, (expensive one – ten cents) I’ve forgotten everyone else in it but Mrs. Evans and Don Eccles. I may write about him later, if you promise to link to my blog.

Lucklessness

2005-08-03T07:43:00.000-07:00

Peter Shrag, a local editorial writer who does a good job with educational issues, wrote an article about school funding in this morning’s paper. One thing he said is quotable and corroborates what I wrote in an entry. My beautiful wife said I stretched my connections in that piece, but Shrag’s comment uses the same analogy and amplifies what I was trying to say. Here’s the quote from Shrag, followed by repeat of that post.

Education is littered with the carcasses of once ballyhooed practices that yielded nothing.

Luckless

Believe it or not, this is a bullfrog. It has been on the bike trail for years. I remember when it was green and identifiable as an unlucky wanderer from the river below, probably six or seven, maybe more years ago. I assume a maintenance truck ran over it. I do not know through what process it annealed itself to the bikeway and ossified. I guess that the hot sun on the asphalt and the frog caused them to melt into each other. I thought after first spotting it, that maintenance crews would scrape it up; but this frog has remained a landmark on my rides for a long time.

Good practices in education, usually embodied in some strong personality, are abundant. They are lively and elusive, because as soon as they are removed from the practitioner they change drastically. The institution of education, a mental institution, always looks for ways to replicate good practices. Unfortunately, to lay them out for others to examine, they must be flattened and dried. This frog reminds me of a Power Point presentation – “How to Be a Great Teacher.”

Endings and Beginnings

2005-08-01T10:55:00.000-07:00

Just as the first day of Summer is shorter than the last day of Spring, meaning the seed of Summer’s death is taking root, so it is the demise of midsummer is spelled out by the ads for backpacks and Crayolas, news items about back to school jitters, and the arrival, any time now that August is here, of that chirpy letter from the Principal, hoping we have had a truly great Summer and preparing us for the greatest year ever in the history of the world. Then the letter lists all the things we need to do to get ready for the greatest year ever in the history of the world.

All this is good. It nags at the subconscious of some of us teachers who are in our dormancy time. Vegetating. Hibernating. In denial. For me the nagging grates. I don’t hanker to rise up and walk. I would rather sit in my chair or on my bike. I prefer to nap when sleepy, rather than when I find time. I get snappish. The Beautiful One defends the cranky-makers like Target and newscasters. “’Tis the season,” she says. “It’s normal.”

But here it is – August 1 of 2005-2006. There are still five weeks before I actually teach, but the process of re-awakening has begun. “Back-to-School” banners are in all the stores. Year-round schools and others with unnatural schedules have already started. You see school busses.

A talented music teacher at my school got invited to take the school choir to New York last year. He organized weekly fundraisers, gave extra concerts, engaged in beg-a-thons, and succeeded in getting the money for the choir to make the trip. I talked to him about it when he got back and everything about the trip was great. He isn’t nagged this August First by the signs of the new school year, as am I.

Each change brings the seeds of still further changes, like days shortening at the birth of summer. Maybe these cycles go on forever. That music teacher could tell us, perhaps. He retired in June, then about three weeks ago, died. His name was Joe Earle. I usually don’t use names of people who work at my school in this blog, but he was special. I think about him a lot, now, as one thing ends and other things begin.

Changes

2005-07-28T09:08:00.000-07:00

In September, I will change the sub-title of this blog. As you probably noticed, this month's posts have been mainly bike-ride pics, with a couple thoughts here and there about teaching. So I need to clarify to those who may Stumble Upon me, that I am not going to focus on publishing studies and surveys of my students as much as during the last school-year, but plan to divagate.

I probably don't have the skill to tie it all together perfectly, so I'll stick with the title, because I am a good Unknower of stuff. As I review what I posted during the last school year, and consider its quality, maybe the new formula will bring back the two readers who surfed on by. Probably not.

Self-Indulgent Frippery

2005-07-28T08:10:00.000-07:00

Above: Looking Back

I don't know how the pics below will display, but I couldn't resist going off-topic to share my morning ride. First pic, I think - I never know where it will wind up after I've published - is my speed-0-meter informing me that I am creaming along at 8 mph at 6:04 am. The bike-trail is only about 150 feet at some places from the freeway, so the roar of that intrudes on the tranquilities of nature.
I took a picture of the stage in the park where Shakespeare plays are presented pretty well. I don't know why it is fenced in, because I can't imagine anyone crashing, let alone buying a ticket. It is not that I don't appreciate Shakespeare, but his plays, like the violin, must be done masterfully. Pretty well doesn't work for those two things.
The geese at the marina, saw me taking their picture, noticed I was elderly, and assumed I had brought them a large bag of croutons for breakfast and swam toward me. It made an even better picture. I felt bad about their misjudgement - I am not elderly.
The last picture is is a pile of glass, bigger than the usual four or five piles I see in parking spots in the park every time I go through it. The park at dawn, when I get there, is a placid empty place with a few early golfers and a couple maintence people. College kids park their cars in the park at night and some come back to find them stripped or gone completely. It has been this way for decades.

After Words

2005-07-23T10:38:00.000-07:00

Been giving thought to my previous post, below. First, some readers might not know that “sore afraid” is from the King James bible and describes shepherds who were “sore afraid” when they saw an angel. Sore is a cognate of the German sehr. Both words mean very. If I stumped anyone, I’m sore happy about that. I’m a teacher.

Secondly, courage is a word most commonly used regarding those who face true fear, such as soldiers in battle, cancer sufferers, matadors, etc. One does not need courage to face fanciful fears. One needs motivation to think, work and get therapy. Some people, such as Parker J. Palmer, call that motivation courage, but they also accept the idea of non-mortal fear, which is a definition different from mine.

Just some afterthoughts.

Be Sore Afraid

2005-07-23T06:40:00.000-07:00

Some people have gifts. They learn math fast or they play the piano with half the effort of others. There are other gifts subtler, more spiritual. I know people who can, with just a smile, a single word, a glance, take the worries of people they meet and turn them - just as lightning clears the air – into real trouble. Like yellow dogs, they have an intuitive sense of fear and insecurity and a knack, a god(?)given talent for twisting the frailties in those around them into solid impairments.

Many of these types work in law enforcement, engineer “homeland security,” are gang leaders, or neighborhood bullies. A good number of the breed clusters in education and practices its skills in the roles of teachers and administrators. Education is a magnet for insecure and fearful types who qualify to be there because they spent so much nerve-wracking time in school themselves.

Parker J. Palmer, in his great book, “The Courage to Teach,” in the chapter A Culture of Fear says:

From grade school on, education is a fearful enterprise. As a student,

I was in too many classrooms riddled with fear, the fear that leads

many children, born with a love of learning, to hate the idea of school.

School is, more than ever since the number mania, a fear-based institution. It offers hope for the future, with one hand on the rug under the aspirant. I have read where all institutionalized enterprises are maintained by fear, but education is the archetype.

There is another side. Real fears are mortal fears and those anxieties where death is not a valid component are phony. A lot of students know that scolding, bad grades, threats of expulsion, or not getting a diploma, are not a death sentence and go on to flourish - sometimes. Teachers know that middle-level administrators have to play bad-cop and and can’t shoot anyway - sometimes. Fear is merely mental in those situations where there are no real tigers, cancer, or terrorists.

School-type fear is a fault. It is belief-system, fortunately optional. It’s a hell of a way to run a business. We need less of our deranged focus on scores. We need teachers ungifted in mongering dread. We need therapy and Palmer’s “Courage.”

OFF-TOPIC! Nothing to See Here!

2005-07-22T07:29:00.000-07:00

Left: pond framed by WPA cloister.
Below right: (Maybe, things change when I post) Full moon at dawn, WPA garden
Far below left: Trusty creaming
Furbelow: What is more common than the pretty stuff.

Second trip this week going nowhere. Just tooled around the park. Took my camera so I could share the excitement. If that is unbearable, remember Scotto. If this post has anything to do with teaching it is in the "un" part of unknowing. Consider this an unpost.

On-Topic For a Change

2005-07-20T08:38:00.000-07:00

"Education consists mainly in what we have unlearned"

Mark Twain

That’s what I’m talkin’ about.

Fifteen Miles Per Semester!

2005-07-20T06:48:00.000-07:00

Above: Trusty flash photo, just before dawn, waiting for me to open gate.

Got Trusty up to a full fifteen miles per hour this morning. I recognize that Lance Armstrong does twice that speed – uphill. But his poor bike doesn’t have a wide padded seat, suspension with a four-inch drop, speedometer, compass with bell, head light, and a red rear light with four different blink patterns and which, according to the blister pack from which I extracted it, “can be seen for over half a mile!!”

15 mph has no meaning, except in the rational world, where that number times minutes, weight and age factored in, can produce other numbers like calories burned per hour or mile. My speedometer produces those figures! I am just as excited by them as I am by Bubby’s percentages of a pool of facts deemed appropriate by the Government learned per semester.

Today I had a great ride. It was not about calories, miles or landfalls. I just tooled around the park as the sun came up. Getting up to 15 was a whim, as was riding in circles in the parking lot – little ones, big ones – just practice. I explored behind Tiny Tot Town, where the rear gate had a dumpster and a pile of sand. Not important, but interesting. The cool breeze on my skin was delectable. I did nothing with any purpose other than to enjoy Trusty and the park.

When I began this post, I had in mind showing you how this ride was like learning and teaching. Can’t. I just feel too mellow. Going to go fix breakfast.

Ciao!

Not to Trust, and Trusty

2005-07-17T08:58:00.000-07:00

It’s been a quiet week on Lake Woebeblog. Thought I was going to report a lot on my reading this summer, but the books I got for the purpose have been duds. An acquantaince recommended Molecules of Emotion, by Candace Pert, but I can’t get into it. The stuff on the cover undermines the credibility of the content. Above the title is the question, “What the #$*! Do We Know!?” This is very funny in Jon Stewart’s America, (a must-read for all haters of textbooks,) but Molecules has some scholarly pretensions. I’ve given it three tries.

Ashamed to admit it, but got suckered into another dog called The Maker’s Diet. Got a third of the way into it. Convincing arguments for the healthiness of kosher eating. I’ve heard them before, and they make sense. However, I researched the author after about page 125, and found his degrees are phony and his multimillion dollar internet food supplement business is under fire from 60 different directions. My bad.

Another book about Orthodox mysticism had a huge malapropism on about the fifth page. A badly edited book is like finding a worm in the lettuce. Not going to finish that salad.

Lots of great re-reads. My usuals – Frank Smith, Kieran Egan, Antonio Damasio. However, it’s just not been a reading summer. Been spending more time with Trusty than reading. On the river this morning at dawn. Off topic pics above as proof.

Luckless

2005-07-17T08:25:00.000-07:00

Training Wheels

2005-07-08T11:03:00.000-07:00

Trusty has been out of service since the thorn incident and I have put a lot of effort into getting her back on the trail. Read a lot of literature, bought a repair stand, and put in more hours than I want to admit, trying to adjust her derailleur du derriere. Despite my effort, and despite Trusty having bonded with me since I removed the thorn from her paw, she continued throwing the chain off the cogs. I am a man. I don’t ask for help. So it was with humiliation that I laid Trusty gently on her side in my station wagon ambulance, and drove, sirens on, to a bike shop.

The shop seemed to have a policy regarding idiots. A tech threw Trusty on a stand, removed the rear wheel, rethreaded the chain properly, with pity patted me on the head and sent me on my way, no charge, all in about 7 minutes. The tradeoff to my mortification was a rideable bike.

I should have figured it all out. I know how to thread 16mm movie projectors and the chain path is similar on bikes. I do not list it among my credits, but I hold an AV Operator Certificate awarded me by the United States Army, back when “media” were filmstrips and 16mm movies. I had a lot of training in the Army. Despite a low level of formal education among army trainers, the training was good and I still remember what to do for a sucking chest wound, how to use a compass and how to thread a Bell and Howell movie projector if I could find one to thread.

Army training was good because it focused on doing things, not on conversancy about those things. Tests were done, not written. If you could take your rifle apart, clean it, then put it back together within a certain time you passed. If you didn’t pass, you kept on practicing until you could. You wrote no paragraphs about the process. You took no multiple-choice tests. You just did it. Literary skills were irrelevant.

One of my brother-in-laws was a trainer for years with Intel. He is very skilled at it and trained me in computer use. He didn’t “teach” me about computers but showed me this and that, let me get in over my head, then showed me how to get back on track, using my hands and eyes, not just my brain. I didn’t learn (until later) the theory of processing and ram, but watched him remove ram chips and change out processors. Those were the fun days of computing when you used the same computer for years, but by the time you scrapped it had none of the original components, including case and motherboards (mobos) but you thought of it as the same computer you started with.

He trained me so well, that for some years I was a campus computer “guru.” For two years there was a teacher in the room next to mine who had a degree in computer science. However, she was at my door for help with her computers so often that I started feigning ignorance and taking the long route to my class to avoid going by hers. Proof that training trumps education.

I have tried, as much as possible, as a teacher, to “train” rather than “educate.” This goal is undermined by the conversancy-based numbers game we have to play, but I still keep trying. I at least make clear to students that when I am “educating” it is simply for the numbers leading to certificates, diplomas and other tickets to the good life and has only a distant connection to the ability to do something. This Trusty episode makes good proof. I fell into a trap. I educated myself by downloading about 20 pages, (nice, well written stuff) reading it and then trying to generate a repair. Had I been trained I would not have missed the basic blunder, which derailed (no pun) my project.

I'm looking forward to some nice, long rides - no thanks to education.

Trusty Rainbow Glory Fourth

2005-07-04T10:00:00.000-07:00

Old Glory on my garage

Left, warning - I was just about to eat the tube,when this caught my eye.
Below, the culprit

Happy Fourth to all. I mounted Trusty after mounting Old Glory this morning just before 6:am with camera to capture the dawn of our Nation's 229th B'Day. For no reason I picked a pebble from the nubs of the rear tire. Turned out not to be a pebble. I had removed from Trusty's paw a thorn. Trusty let out a long sigh of gratitude, which I could feel on the back of my hand.

Trip cancelled. The intrusion was so small it could hardly be seen. It was a back-to-nature event. The culprit was organic, all natural, and biodegradable. However, the inner tube was not, there no self-healing. This required waiting until 8 am for Target to open, then effecting the exchange of tubes, replacing the rear wheel, then adjusting the derailleur, expertly, few can do this the way I can, to a point where it throws the chain off both sprockets with each push of the pedal.

I am either going to have to learn a lot or pay someone to change this. The moral here is: Every Rainbow has a silver thorn in the side.

More Than You Ever Hoped to Unknow

2005-07-03T07:21:00.000-07:00

For fifteen years I have participated in a forum with the author of the best word processor I have ever used. He is a physics professor, who is a very gifted programmer, in the way Einstein was a violinist. I have often tried, for no reason, to picture him from what he writes. No luck.

My beautiful wife says keep them guessing, but vanity prevails. Here I am at home in my every-day clothes. Sorry.

I have discovered you can increase the pain and strain by clicking on the pictures. It embiggens them, to quote Lisa Simpson.

Moron Irrelevance

2005-07-02T09:55:00.000-07:00

Above, paddle wheel boat
More irellevent stuff. Related to teaching by showing that part of unknowing is rest and relaxation. As in post below, you can bail out to Scotto's Wall, more fun, more relevant. This is just practice with Blogger's pic uploading.

Above, bridge and and wierd "ziggarat" building

Left, shot while riding, thus blurry

Pic uploading to Blogger sucks.

Totally your elephant

2005-07-02T09:01:00.000-07:00

Left, Trusty the Steed
Right, Pic while riding Trusty at well over 10 mph.
My wife (have I told you she is smart and gorgeous?) says I mislead people who Google my blog, because I am off-topic so often. I have explained to her that that's how blogs work. They're extemporaneous expressions of ego
- blabber in other words. If you are someone who is here by my
misdirection, please jump now to Scotto, who is always interesting and unlike me, posts fresh every day.
I'm really jumping off the deep end topicwise. Here are some pics that go along with my post, "The Perfect Ride," of June 21. As you peruse, remember there is Scottobear.
The little lake I pass by on the way to the bike trail.

Left - Tower Bridge at 6:00 am
I apologize for the layout and text. Blogger has bugs in their pic uploader.
Next time, go directly to Scottobear .

Conditions

2005-07-01T09:28:00.000-07:00

Teaching, despite the attention it gets, is like the cures for hiccups. Hiccups (except in pathological forms) always go away. We assign the cause of the going away to whatever we are doing at the time – drinking water, eating a spoonful of sugar, holding breath and a dozen other “cures.”

To those who make a living reforming it, teaching causes learning. Sad to say, it causes learning the same way as counting one to ten backwards is a sure cure for hiccups. The truth is that it is irrelevant. Teaching is especially inconsequential when there is no learning – and, read the papers please – that seems to be what is happening on a catastrophic level.

I do not make my tomatoes grow. The plants have within their nature that which causes then to get bigger, to generate little yellow blossoms, to produce pea-size fruit, which grows to green little balls, then larger ones, then red ones. If I do not control the conditions, however, they will not follow this path. I must provide water, location with sun, plant food, and nurture. They might grow and produce without intervention – but I am responsible for speeding and steering the process.

Thus teaching, if this word is appropriate, is being alert to conditions of the learners. There are internal and external conditions. A pleasant ambience, controlled stimuli, comfortable seating – incidentally, many of the desks my kids have to sit in were invented by cretins – are part of the external. The internal is not as easy to deal with. If there is causality in learning it is most directly apparent when there is a divorce or death in a family. Grades drop.

If a learner is coping with questions such whether he or she is loved by the most important people in their lives – the growth impulse is diverted just as my tomatoes languish when nibbled by snails or when over-watered. If a child is shuffled from relative to relative because the mom takes drugs and dad’s in jail – 3 million people are in custody in the U.S. – then plans for college lag in importance. The conditions for learning our government-mandated curricula are poor.

When circumstances are good – parents who read and talk, homes with books and internet access, prospects for a stable future, stimulation and practicable role modes – learning and growth occur by almost the same act of nature as occurs on a farm with rich soil and competent farmers.

So why accept pay for such an irrelevant job? Why not sell cars or buy a fast-food franchise? Why do battle with the poor learning situations so many students bring to school? Because farming the soil of learning, and improving the conditions in which learners flourish is an all-out commitment, requiring as much as one has to give. Sometimes getting a blade of grass to grow from a seeming rock bed is enough. The harvest, that harvest time, abundant or meager, no matter, is as exciting a party, as fulfilling an event in which, anyone, in any line of work, could possibly take joy.

Conditions, Part Two

2005-06-30T12:00:00.000-07:00

I often fail to cope with conditions rightly. The truth is that my tomato plant is not doing well. Success at anything takes a mix of talent, drive and ethics. It’s my lack of talent that hurts my tomato growing. Also, conditions are tough here. In fact, we are starting the worst weather conditions of the year. Lucky for us it started late, but my town has a period of severe weather every year that takes lives and requires preparation. Our bad weather season is the summer heat.

I have been busy getting ready. Both AC units in our cars needed servicing, so there were two appointments. The upstairs AC in the house had a couple loose wires left from re-roofing and needed service. A riser had to be replaced in the middle of the back yard and numerous sprinkler heads had to be tested and replaced. One bad sprinkler and a whole bed of my wife’s plants can die ugly deaths in about 72 hours. Makes for bad marital politics.

The riser took many hours to replace, this time for lack of the drive needed to do it in one session – and lack of talent with the tools on hand. There were also a lot of trips to hardware (jewelry, if you go by price) stores to find the right tools and devices. Yesterday, I spent several hours repairing and rerouting a drip watering system in a bed of roses.

All these efforts were to get ready for the severe weather, which started today - 100 degrees and nowhere to go but up. The heat has driven many people out of California’s Central Valley. We are the butt of jokes for living in it. We have liars here who claim they like it, but for all the gorgeous weather we enjoy at other times of the year, the heat ain’t pretty.

So, conditions are bad. Or are they? This is the time when you dash from air conditioned building to car to another building. You don’t spend time with “mad dogs and Englishmen” outside. You sit by a vent and read and write. And from it all you learn, learn, learn. I learned a lot about getting a old rusty pipe out of my sprinkler system. I learned my pipe wrench was too small. I found out that the long bar with a chain I paid 20 bucks for was useless. I discovered that a little thing called a ratchet wrench, only about 6 inches long could bite into the pipe like a pit bull and when tapped with a hammer end many hours of struggle.

I have learned about motors and drip lines and every type of sprinkler head made. I have learned about freon, and ducts and to use the cool morning hours. So it is that conditions simply change what we learn, not block it. Often, the kid with the broken home and no money figures out his life and becomes more successful than the spoiled kid. The stories are too numerous to ignore. Maybe that is why teaching is so hard. It's impossible to improve all the conditions. But despite every circumstance kids grow up, not down.

The Perfect Ride

2005-06-21T16:57:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I replaced the handlebar on my bike with a taller one, which allows me to sit straight, so the reward of my intemperance, my belly, won’t pull down my upper body weight so directly on my hands and wrist. Test runs were positive. No pain, much gain. I also installed my Fathers’ Day presents – a speedometer computer, which tells me how many years it takes to pedal off a day’s eats and a compass, which helps me exit bad neighborhoods with thought, which I may have stumbled into without thought. The compass has a little bell, which I can operate to amuse people blocking my path.

This morning, at 5: 30 am I took off on a meandering ride through the 166-acre park two blocks from my home, up the river about five miles to a 60-acre park on the river, then another five to the confluence of two rivers where there is another park of some 50 acres. I spent almost three hours on the trip, but the total mileage was not more than about 20. I like to tool around off the paved bike trail and I spent nine minutes in my chair with my third cup of coffee for the morning.

Despite sounding idyllic, it wasn’t entirely. It was urban recreation. There are scary street crossings, freeway noise, and some iffy types. For the people who live outdoors, sleeping in isn’t as workable as it is for those of us with quiet cool bedrooms. Even at six a.m. there are those with a drink or fix already at hand. Others who live along the river were on the move, some enjoying lively talks with trees or posts. Some obviously had the jones; one or two looked like they had it for my bike. There are people riding 2 and 3 thousand dollar bikes along the trails, but they go too fast to catch.

There are men in parked cars at certain well known restrooms. I don’t use restrooms for meeting new people, but some do. Finding the ideal spot for my mid-journey coffee break was challenging. I passed up a dozen. At one, a guy sitting in a car honked and waved at me. I know I’m attractive, but come on, it’s seven in the morning and I’m sixty-seven years old. A couple others had too much freeway noise. Others had poor views or too many people.

I finally picked a very pretty spot in the middle park, the one with the marina. It gave me a perfect view of the river and it was in a little grove of trees. The grass was lush and there was no litter, because the City maintains the park. The coffee was still hot and the lassitude I felt as I did my meditation exercises was intense. Roughly seven minutes into this sybaritic interlude, the City started maintaining the park. A huge red machine, the kind they use to clear rain forests in Brazil, appeared. It seemed to do several different jobs at once. It threw dirt and rocks in the air, blew leaves, chopped branches, roared and shook the ground – I guess to get more branches down.

Another, even larger machine, came behind it with the same propulsion system used on 747’s. This machine moved at great speed and put in the air everything the first machine had missed, I couldn’t determine why nor did I linger to ponder Nature as maintained by the City.

I got home at 8:20, in time to see my beautiful spouse leave for work. She works all year long. She earned a credential to teach when she was in college, but didn’t like the pay. So hers is the main salary. It gives me enough slack to buy new bikes and kick back a little in the Summer. Have I mentioned? she is very beautiful.

This school year, and life in general, is like my trip today. Damn near perfect. It all depends on what you look for. In this morning’s paper, the gang members who shot a student from my school to death were found guilty. The teacher three doors down from me ended her career by having sex with a special ed student. I was criticized roundly by my Administration for being too lenient. Like they say on Sesame Street, it all depends on where you put your eyes. There is much beauty.

Life is Good

2005-06-19T06:13:00.000-07:00

This is second day of the 81 from the Cohen song I bowdlerized on June 5th. Early yesterday, Day One, I strapped my folding chair on my back, got on my clunky, cheap new bicycle, and headed for the river. Found a grassy spot near a marina about five miles from my house. I unfolded my chair, a pricey little number, which is very light and replicates in comfort my leather den chair. I poured strong bean coffee from my thermos – my Melitta produces coffee rivaling Starbucks or Peets.

The sun was perfect. An expensive yacht drifted by below. I almost felt envy, but knew my lot was as good as any on earth – and no boat to maintain, no payments. Teaching is a racket. Nine months of fun, followed by three of pleasure.

Tried to clear my mind of anything but observations. Thousands of ants on a tree a few feet from me sped along their freeways, busier than a teacher behind two chapters. I tried to be thought-free, to be alive to the “now,” as the mystics suggest. Life is good; very, very good. Those ants must be getting ready for summer school.

Top News

2005-06-18T07:55:00.000-07:00

Bubby (not real name) has confidence problems. I can see no other reason for him to flunk. I once saw him outrun everyone in his gym class. His stride was natural and his gift for speed made me envious. When I asked him later why he didn’t go out for track he told me he gets winded. He told me Spanish was too hard for him, but I can spot learning problems a mile off after teaching approximately – give or take a few hundred – 6000 students. Bubby's main problem is that he doesn’t trust his own talents.

I pushed and pulled Bubby all year. He tolerated the pulling, but would shut down or flare up when the pushing was more than slight. The last day of school he handed me a typed letter. It said:

Dear Mr. Kerby,

I want to thank you for being such a great teacher. You were funny, intelligent and very understanding. You were also the only teacher that left me alone when I had a bad day. Although there were many of those. Additionally, you were very amusing because you had a great sense of humor. I thought it was very cool when you would dance with us, make jokes that were actually humorous, and you would pick on the administration. Besides being a comical person, your were very intelligent. By the way you would write on your website, it seemed as if you were a English professor. Your English and writing is beyond comparison.

I know I wasn’t your top student academically, but Spanish comes hard to me. And even though I didn’t learn much Spanish, I learned a lot about meeting new people. Because of your class I had a great group. I met a lot of different people, and I got to meet one of the best teachers every to step into a classroom. I also learned a lot about teacher-student respect. You respected students a lot, so your relations with your students were a lot better than any other teachers. I haven’t met one student who said they didn’t like you as a teacher.

Well overall, this was intended to be a thank you letter for being my teacher this year. You were my favorite teacher ever since my 6^th grade teachers. I hope you continue to teach and keep kids happy to actually come to class, because that’s what you did to me.

Your Student,

Sincerely,

Bubby

I love you too, Bubby.

I minored in philosophy!

2005-06-13T06:20:00.000-07:00

Faith, cognizance, cognition. These levels of epistemology fascinate me, because the imply so much for education: how to trust what is taught; how to test what is “known;” how to know anything at all.

Problem: once something is philosophized as in the previous paragraph, it becomes trivial. I am still drawn to the philosophical, and also to overeating. I hope to use some of my summer to work on these and other character flaws. Philosophers want to know stuff. My blog is supposed to be about “unknowing,” the mystical process of cleaning out the debris we (I) tend to have in our minds which has ossified to the point we truly believe in it.

I will be boring you with progress reports and book notes during the summer. The Beautiful One and I have decided not to travel this summer, so I will try to journey inward. Most of this process will be unreportable, but I will write about the surface stuff. Feel free to drop out until I start writing about the kids next Fall.

Confusion

2005-06-09T05:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday’s post puzzled my other reader, Graycie. (See her comment.) Maybe what I wanted to say was that interpretation of results is needed to tell credit from blame. Praise feels good (sometimes it feels icky, though) and criticism feels bad (or good if it comes from a bad person.) I admit that, but wasn’t it Rudyard who said,
"If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster/ And treat those two impostors just the same.
. . . . .Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it."

When you really think about those two simple lines and try to link them to success and failure, good feedback and bad, the joys and distresses of the teaching art, the isolation from other adults, the worries, the years of preparation - the pencil awards, the memoes - they really don’t make any sense, do they?

Have a nice day.

Old Brooms Sweep Okay, Too

2005-06-08T16:03:00.000-07:00

A fanatic does something for only one reason, but I don’t sweep my classroom every day as an extremist. I have several motives. One is to get in good with the plant staff who can skip my room when they are busy. This “one hand washing the other” gives me prompt extra help when I ask for it - clean filter for the AC, a leaky sink, or whatever. Another reason is that I am permissive about kids eating and drinking. I don’t want it reported to the administration that I flaunt their laws against the dreadfulness of human beings (administrators may be shocked to know I mean students) snacking while working. So I sweep up the chip bags and plastic bottles to hide my sedition.

However, the main reason is that for at least one short period of time each work day, for ten or fifteen minutes I can see plainly what I have accomplished. It satisfies me to see chips, mud, and candy wrappers disappear from the floor and fill the waste containers. There is nothing I do as a teacher that is so easy to measure.

I can measure my work by how much time I spend, the number of classes, and so forth. There is a satisfaction in grading and recording the last test in a tall stack. But the real goals of teaching – to accelerate the growth of my charges, to expand their worlds, to guide them in acquiring skills – none of them can be assessed on the same scale as sweeping from the southeast corner of my class to the garbage can at the northwest corner, checking for the stray Cheez-it, then admiring the effects of my efforts.

I am sure, that my impact on students, like the majority of teachers I have had myself, has been fluffy. I have had a few students who went on to become multi-lingual. One or two have even had kind words for me. During the Afghan war in 2003 a young general, Vincent Brooks, was on the national news every day as spokesman for the Army. News reports said he is fluent in German. I was his first German teacher in high school. Several students I have had majored in Spanish or German, one of them at Stanford. There are others, but there is no way to prove it was my broom that swept them along. Anything said otherwise is their politeness or my bragging.

The closest to a one-for-one impact was on a student I had years back who developed a fanatical interest in Richard Wagner. He was in a class I taught on Nordic Myth. After we read the myths we went into Wagner’s reworking of them in the Ring Cycle. I made a gift to the young student of a book on Wagner at the end of the course. He now credits me with his fascination with the composer and with his travels all over the world to see performances. It is one credible instance where my work effected an effort and absorption with one narrow pursuit in an individual.

Sometimes at night when I can’t sleep, the horror of it overwhelms me. Because of me, there is at least one man who has joined that sub-class of people too clumsy for bowling and too fat to dance. Can you imagine people attending an opera 16 hours long over a period of a week? People with nothing better to do than to blabber on and on about which was better, the Berliner Ring or the Bayreuther? Then, who, after Jeopardy, during which they shush people, jump into deadly boring discussions about the dearth of new Wagnerians; about Fischer-Dieskau turning 80; about Heppner, Schorr, Flagstad and Nilson; about how too lyrical Domingo is for Wagner? Oh, the revulsion, the nausea, the waste of libido!

It’s satisfying to sweep, but when in comes to influencing students, as Amos Bronson Alcott transcendentalled, (spell-check went nuts over to transcendental)
“A true teacher defends his students against his own
personal influences. He inspires self-distrust.”
I wish I had known this when I was a young man. I would not have this shame on my conscience. Thank God for the hordes of students who don’t remember me. Teaching is a whole different satisfaction compared to sweeping. There are things a teacher just doesn’t want to measure.

Hallelujah!

2005-06-05T06:38:00.000-07:00

When you look around the bend

You see this school year coming to an end

And you don’t teach summer school, do you?

So you get out the broom and sweep your room

And dream of ways to use eighty-one days of Hallellujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah!

(With sincere apologies to Leonard Cohen.)

Dreams and Not Blogging

2005-06-03T05:39:00.000-07:00

Despite the appearance of being defunct, this blog is still alive, though barely. The gestation period for us teachers is coming to an end. We will have been carrying young learners for nine months, now, as of June 6th. The ninth month is the toughest. Early mornings, which are usually productive times for me for blogging, research, planning, etc, are now filled with morning sickness. I have been sleeping, vegetating or tending the lawn and my tomatoes – anything to cope.

As Max Weber, the German sociologist, told us – don’t mess with expectations. They are the most powerful force in human behavior. The some eighty-one days which loom ahead during which there will be no school, increase the pain of 2004-05 terming out. It is because, underlying the heat, the tedious testing, the work of cleaning up and out, there is the thought of retirement from school responsibilities for eighty-one days in a row. It is one long weekend with no Mondays, no deadlines, no meetings, no school-related phone calls. No evaluations, no administrator scolding, no student conflicts.

So we are now in a war between heaven (actually, Summer has its work and obligations - it never matches the anticipation) and hell (teaching is the most exciting and satisfying thing I have ever done – well, except for driving a taxi – so “hell” is a weak metaphor.) Maybe it is a war between dream and reality. Whichever, it affects the whole ed community. Administrators are more brittle, teachers are given to outbursts and students wobble among edgy, comatose, and ecstatic states. Teachers neglect their blogs.

So here you have it – my excuse. Jumbled metaphors. Vegetation, pregnancy, heaven, dreams. This entry is like those pumpkins they raise only for competition. Big, but hard to use for anything. I’m lucky to have no readers.

Your Average Teacher

2005-04-22T05:31:00.000-07:00

Memo to: Parents of A. Kid
From: The Teacher
Your child was recently measured at 5 feet 4 inches. However, because his average height, calculated from his birth length of 19 inches, is less than three feet he will not be able to go on the Fifth Grade field trip to Disney Land. Call me if you have any questions.

Memo to: Parents of Roger Bannister
From: The Teacher
I have reviewed Roger’s 1954 mile race time of 3:59.4. As impressive as this seems, I have averaged it with his First Grade Mile Hike time of 32:38 and revised his current records for the mile. It is now 18:16.2. It is possible for him to bring his average up to 15 minutes within the next twelve years. Call me if you have any questions.

Memo to: Parents of Summer School Classes
From: The Teacher
Because the average annual temperature in Madison is 41.3° F, all students attending the Fourth of July Fun Swim MUST wear long pants, a parka with hood, and boots. Call me if you have any questions.

Memo to: Parents of Michael Jordan
From: The Teacher
After averaging in Michaels aptitude for the violin, his motivation for eating broccoli, and his skill at speed skating with his basketball career I have had to reduce his lifetime achievement from “spectacular” to “below average.” Call me if you have any questions.

Memo to: Parents of A. Notherkid
From: The Teacher
Your daughter is succeeding this year. She has all A’s and B’s. However, my records show that two years ago, when she was out of school for three months after the “accident” she had a semester with 4 D’s and a C. Please average your current elation with the sober reality of these permanently recorded failures. In this way you will see there is nothing to celebrate. Call me if you have any questions.

Show (Up) Time

2005-04-21T05:40:00.000-07:00

11:31 Bell rings at end of 3^rd period

11:34 Bubby arrives, drops off backpack

11:34:22 Bubby leaves

11:38 Bell rings; 4^th period begins

11:45 Bubby enters with cold soda during Teacher’s dynamic presentation. Offers swig to girl across room from his assigned seat.

Teacher: (Stops presentation in mid sentence) Why so tardy Bubby?

Bubby: I ain’t late.

Teacher: (Incredulous) But it’s 11:45, seven minutes into the period.

Bubby: I was here before class started!

Teacher: ( Irritation evident; class amused) But you left!!

Bubby: It was the passing period. That’s MY time, Doofus! See! There’s my backpack!

Teacher: (Now at very high volume) But you ADDED 7 minutes of class time to YOUR time (sarcastically mimicking Bubby, perfectly) just to get a soda!

Bubby: You mean I ain’t allowed to go the Bathroom, Doofus?! I bought the soda before.

Teacher: Before class or before you stopped at the boys’ room?

Bubby: Who cares? I don’t have to take your crap!! I ain’t LATE!

11:51 to 11:55 Teacher writes referral to Vice Principal. “Rubbert Bean late to class. Called teacher a ‘Doofus.’ Insubordinate to teacher. Used gutter language.”

11:59 Bubby takes time capping Coke, picking up backpack. Leaves class after showing a girl the referral.

11:59 to 12:02 Teacher takes deep breaths.

12:03 Teacher resumes presentation.

END

I have played the lead role in this little one-acter entitled Student Logic numerous times with the role of Bubby played by several different boys and girls, once by a mixed quartet of them. I know my lines very well. The audience cheers for Bubby.

The Rocks

2005-04-16T15:28:00.000-07:00

On the back of last Wednesday’s test I made reference to my previous post – it’s about Spring fever – and asked students to suggest ways to get back on track. I was shocked to see that I have in my classes a core of steady souls unaffected by “the third quarter slump.” I was surprised, because I tend to globalize my moods and to find people who are not affected by what affects me is a shock. Then, I also have to question the reality of what appears to affect me.

To make a short story long, I had many suggestions from students. I read them all and acknowledged each with a short note. Internally however, I rejected them as the products of “mere” students. But after sleeping on it, I saw that the suggestions all had a common theme. Each had to do with involving myself more with them and what we are learning. I have become disengaged from time to time.

Only one student wrote that it wasn’t my fault, but theirs. The other fifteen or so respondents had a different message. It was, “summer isn’t here, yet – wake up! Get back to work!” Many gave me really good suggestions about activities that could be fun for them and me too. Projects, games, shifts of emphases, inventive assignments! It was impressive.

It has been a tough decision, but I have made up my mind. It is sort of a watershed in the evolution of my springtime doldrums. I have examined the situation objectively and can accept only one conclusion. The kid who took the blame was right and the ones who want more work are nut cases. Now I’m going to take my nap.

If Thou Knowest not Whither Thou Goest, Run Thou Not

2005-04-08T05:54:00.000-07:00

I have been alarmed at the slump in students' numbers in my "Making the Grade" computer program. I have asked other teachers and several students why this may be happening. Everyone says it is the "third-quarter slump." I don't remember the 3Q Slump from my old days teaching high school. It appears to be real, because I am experiencing it myself. I catch myself asking the class "what was it I was just screaming about?" as students sleep, take pictures on their cell phones, play games on GameBoys, gossip, and do homework from other classes.
I saw the same exact reaction to the lectures of various administrators at yesterday's monthly faculty meeting. Teachers were grading papers, taking pictures with their cell phones, gossiping and I was playing backgammon on my PDA. Those laughing at photos on their phone screens uncannily resembled the students who had been doing the same thing with their phones - while I screamed at them.
Because of professional constraints (the teachers' union) the administrators could not scream or punish us. Did we deserve to be yelled at, humiliated, kept after school, or be sent home and have our permanent records stained? Thanks to education's lively double standards the answer is, "HELL NO!"
My theory about the 3QS is that the Spring pollens produce allergies to common sense and normalcy. It has to do with Spring at any rate. I am clueless as to a solution. I am personally trying to stumble back on track and hope for the patience to wait for the kids to do the same. As I often tell my students - if you don't know where you are going, don't run.

Snowballs in Hell

2005-03-24T15:48:00.000-08:00

The fact that making an effort is an inefficient way to learn - and an almost certain way to forget-- comes as a surprise to many people. They have been taught that learning demands hard work, serious motivation, and focused concentration. They may even have been taught that shouldn't expect very much success in learning, no matter how they try.
Frank Smith, The Book of Learning and Forgetting

“She does nothing in my class.”

“He won’t do the work!”

“Out of 12 homework assignments he did only one.”

“That whole class is unmotivated; they never concentrate on their work!”

“He won’t do anything for me!”

I hear the above statements on a daily basis, especially when consulting other teachers about students who won’t do my work. Frank Smith, a great Canadian educator, says we have it wrong. In my own learning experience and from what I have seen from people I consider genuinely “learned,” I am sure he is right. In the book I quote above, Smith goes on to say that learning is growth and growth is innate, it is inherent and it defines life itself. He says everyone is always learning – just not what we teachers think they should.

What we think students should learn is the Grand Plan. The G.P. lays out learning as straight up a staircase. The Latin Gradus, from which our words grade and grades derives means step. We number the steps by years and divide them into semesters. Then we “articulate,” an ed buzzword, which means we find out what’s happening on the steps ahead and prepare our kids for that. Dirty secret – except for a few paper shufflers in the bowels of the ed bureaucracy – nobody does it. An even buzzier word used by every trainer in the current education world is “scaffolding,” which means the same thing on the macro level.

I grew up where we often got more than a hundred inches of snow a year and another 40 inches of cold rain every year, Erie County, Pennsylvania. Until I made real human contact in high school with a couple great human beings who were, incidentally, teachers, I found the rituals of school baffling and the teachers to be clueless martinets. I worried my parents in middle school with C’s and D’s and that was just Citizenship. At the same time, it was also one of the most fruitful learning periods of my life because of Andrew Carnegie’s warm libraries in each of the three towns I lived in. Out of the weather into Books.

However, when winter conditions were just right it, it was necessary to get out in the snow to compete with the neighbor kids’ sorry snowman. You began with a hand-sized snowball and started rolling it. Not in a straight line, but round and round the yard where the snow drifted into the best piles. Down a slope with no effort, then back up and around until the abdominal part of the snowman was bigger and rounder than the rude work of the neighbor kids. Just one easy push at a time, pleasurable and unplanned – no blueprint, manual or textbook – just the thrill of growing a ball into a man of snow.

This is how I have always learned and made snowmen. Whenever there was genuine contact, such as the two high school teachers, I mentioned before, there was acquisition and growth. Same conditions for snowmen – real contact of ball with more snow. Even an ignorant little boy can see where to push the growing ball – not straight down the bare sidewalk, not into the gravel, and never, ever, up steps.

Frank Smith is right. Learning is not work according to plan. It is an adventure. Knowledge truly acquired is an outward growth, an incomparable excitement. Unhappily, school is too often the worst of all possible places to find it.

Authority

2005-03-10T18:06:00.000-08:00

R. A. 11D this morning. If you are competing to be my third reader, you may want to know that this is a Riot Act number from my armamentarium of scoldings, delivered with varied intonations, most of them at scary decibel levels interspersed with whispers, gasps and dramatic silences. R.A. 11 treats of egregious tardiness. Eleven minutes into the class, four of my students entered stage left. My review of preterite tense at the time was foundering, so, like Sisera, whose head Deborah nailed to the ground, “From heaven fought the stars, from their courses they fought against [the tardy ones.]” My simple question to them was, “What possible cataclysm could have prompted this interruption of my brilliant presentation?!!”

They reported that a need of a textbook had prompted four students to make the long trip to the Science Quad to retrieve the one book. This was enough to bring my drama to its furious high point. How lucky can a teacher get? My lecture sucks, then four luckless students make a major mistake, and I am saved. The class hangs on my explosions, one upon the other, like in a Terminator movie. Then in the discovery phase of the proceedings, while students fiddled with questions from the text, I solicited support from other students for detention, suspension, or beheading of the criminals.

To a man (or boy or girl) they said I should look at the history of tardiness of each student and respond accordingly. My inclination to kill found no support, darn it. Each of the Tardy Four had a record of one previous tardy, significant I thought, but I had to let them off because of the politics. Despite this setback, I thought how wonderful to be a teacher, to have the power to descend from intellectual to moral issues and still be within my job specs. I love it!

Crunch Time

2005-03-04T10:05:00.000-08:00

I was in my usual mood this morning – distraught – when I began first period. Taking roll two minutes after the official starting time of 8:20 I had only 14 of 30 students in their seats and of those, three at most, doing the daily practice quiz. According to the laws of pedagogy I scolded the good kids who were on time, reserving special flashes of lightning for the tardies as they drifted in.
It was R.A. (Riot Act) 19B, which I finished with a creative flourish, “I will bet you any amount of money that when I compare the grades of the on-time students, with the tardy ones and the absentees it will be much higher.” I was sure of this, but I got to thinking I might be able to produce a dramatic piece of research to share with the two people who read this blog.
So, just for you, my readers, I crunched the numbers and here they are with an analysis. Of the 14 kids in their seats at the beginning of the period their grade average in my class is 2.35 or C+. The 16 others, Friday ditchers or late sleepers, had an average of 2.5, significantly higher. Conclusion: time spent in class lowers grades. Students are better off sleeping or stopping for McBiscuits.
Does this mean I will not be using R.A. 19B again? No way. Nothing I’ve done this week has been as satisfying. Without kids to take out our frustrations on, we teachers would all be raving loonies – instead of raving airheads. By the way, I encouraged the 14 on-timers to be late more often. It’s called making data-driven changes.

Reasons for Silence

2005-03-02T19:26:00.000-08:00

One of the reasons for the recent gaps in this blog has been my preoccupation with a scandal in my profession that has bent our town out of shape. Weekend before last, a married teacher was accused of sex with a minor student in a public parking lot. I can’t comprehend it. I don’t know how people can let themselves fall into such a pit. What has devastated me most, is that I know the person pretty well – at least I thought I did. The scandal broke in the papers and T.V. just one week ago, but it has seemed more like six months.

I do not spend time maundering over the details of the incident, arrest and arraignment but I am disturbed. I have slept poorly and blew up at my favorite class. I tell myself and others that I don’t want to know the details, but find myself seeking out every bit of gossip I can nail. I have started three different posts about this thing and scrapped them for above average incoherence.

I think what disturbs me to a loss of words is my choice of student-teacher relationships on the “QUIZ” below. I see teachers and students as in a familial (not familiar) relationship and this incident smacks of violation of the universal taboo against incest. Inside the family we can love purely. We want nothing from the child but its own good. In the world outside the family there is an economy. We wheel and deal for what we want from others in a more-or-less honest way – pay checks, companionship, release of passion, social respect, a decent hamburger, etc. In the family we give for the joy of giving and for me there should be an element of this in the classroom.

QUIZ

2005-03-02T05:26:00.000-08:00

Which of the following relationship parallels most closely that of student and teacher in an ideal world?

1. No relationship. It would undermine the total objectivity the pure academic environment requires.

2. Police to arrestee. The student must be forced to learn, because it is in his nature to want to be ignorant.

3. Doctor to patient. The student is sick, but the overweening expertise of the professional can effect a cure. The patient cannot possibly understand the complexity of the treatment, which is unavailable from any other source.

4. Mom to child. Nurtures interest, delights in accomplishments, celebrates victories and minimizes the impact of failure.

5. Dog to cat. Natural enemies fighting over turf.

6. Shipmates. Each helps the other through the storms.

7. Boss to employee. Student must do the work to get the pay (grades.)

8. Frat member to pledge. Hazes student with all the painful stuff he had to undergo to become a teacher.

What your answers reveal about you. If you chose –
1. You are probably German.
2. You are still teaching at age 70.
3. You hated the ‘60’s and want to teach college, but couldn’t finish the dissertation.
4. You are a male or female first grade teacher.
5. You are not a teacher - or a first-year teacher.
6. You loved the sixties. You still let students call you “Bob.” You have a beard.
7. You were a business major. You teach Algebra since typing is no longer offered. You are active in the teachers’ union.
8. You are probably British.

My own choice of models, although I confess I have employed all seven at different times, is 4.) Mom. I don’t teach first grade, but of all the models out there I have found them to be the best teachers of any levels. An administrator once put me on to the fact that if you ask anyone of any age to name his first grade teacher, he can do so without thinking. I have never seen it fail. Try it!

Learning

2005-02-16T09:29:00.000-08:00

I’m sure it was Frank Smith, THE Frank Smith, the educator, not the one you know, who helped me see how learning works. Learning is getting the ability to do something, which the learner couldn’t do before. It might be to grasp and talk about an idea, to recite something, to do something new with music or numbers, or to advance in use of language, or to do a new dance.

The reason I say I’m sure it was Frank Smith, is that over the years I have appropriated some stuff and come to think it is mine, then embarrassed myself, when someone points out the derivation. So here it is: ”How learning works by W. Kerby adapted from F. Smith.” It is a simple formula. Tried – failed – tried – failed – tried – failed – tried – DID IT! The number of try-fail cycles is what we measure as intelligence when schoolwork is learned.

This formula, however, applies to all learning. From the baby learning to walk to the musician learning a new phrase, to the language learner adding a new structure to his communication skills; all learning follows the formula.

The panoply of learning objectives means a varied number of try-fail cycles within each individual. (See Howard Gardner re multiple intelligences.) Everyone has strong areas where the cycles are very short and weak areas where the number of cycles needed may simply not be worth the skill. Many people have told me this about my piano playing. On the other hand I learn language vocabulary fast. My other learning cycle experience has led me to teach languages and not music.

Something very mysterious happens between the last try-fail and the DID IT. Explain it to me someone! The baby falls over. The baby falls over. The baby takes three steps. There is often a relapse, then four steps, five steps and Momma is thrilled beyond words. The non-walker walks. The non-typist types. The non-reader reads. The learner gains new growth in the middle of failure. Learning is syntropic and fosters, as well as requires, optimism.

One thing that troubles me much is the obsession of “education” on the fail part of the learning cycle. We are keen on measuring what students cannot do and marking that with a red pencil and recording low scores. If Momma did that to the baby learning to walk, she would ignore the steps and punish the fall-overs. Thank God, moms are moms, and not educators, or we’d all have a limp.

BUBBLEheads

2005-02-09T13:27:00.000-08:00

Just finished another morning of being a substitute runner while our tenth-graders took the high-stakes California High School Exit Exam. All faculty members were given jobs insuring that no student cheat by satellite hook-up, cell phone or elaborate tattoos. Also, we were on high alert (RED) to thwart the students who cheat by recalling answers from memory. The only way to whip this rote-learner scandal is to instill fear and panic so that the memory cannot kick in – providing the perp no recourse but to fail fair and square.
I was hoping to land a job as a proctor, but a sharp administrator uncovered my lack of units in proctology. I couldn’t even nab one of the very desirable proctor substitute (prostitute, for short) positions. So I was a substitute runner, which meant my main job was to escort students to the bathroom. This mandatory rule arises from the threat that some student might find an encyclopedia and score a bunch of illegal answers. I’m pleased to report that none of that nonsense occurred on MY watch!
A total of eight hours was allowed for students to complete the test spread over two days. Most students finished in half the time. Some of them were not challenged and breezed through and others bailed early. Most of the ones in this latter group who fail will drop out in their junior year. A few will retake the test next year and pass and a very tiny number will play zombies and finish high school without a diploma, sort of like working as a volunteer at Burger King – cleaning the grease traps.
The one clear benefit to this grueling process is that we have insured that our students will leave us – with or without diploma – knowing how to bubble in scam-tron sheets. This skill is in high demand and means that no matter what, our students will be able to find entry-level positions in the bubble industry. I get a little chill up the spine thinking about that and thanking my self for playing a role - not as a full proctologist, no, but as a damn proud substitute runner.

Quid Pro Quo

2005-02-06T07:35:00.000-08:00

Dan Walters, a Sacramento political writer, has written a couple articles recently about the other side of the educational spreadsheet. His analyses have been about the state and federal finance numbers game. In the classroom we produce assessment numbers and the legislative branches of government pumps in the dollar numbers: then the bottom line is tallied; oops, excuse me, NOT tallied, because it is an impossible. The “buck” side is even more raggedy and random than the "bang" side of the spreadsheet.
The debit side is fraught with inequities, political pressures from special interests, public failure to understand (who does?) and mere accident. Walters calls it "numerology." Thus determining the cost of education, because of huge unevenness, the debit side is a mysterious mess.
Nonetheless, the accountancy model dominates nearly all debate about changing education. The mercantile mentality saturates our zeitgeist. Big money in, should mean big results out. I just spent seven grand on a new roof for my home. The job was beautifully done and there are no leaks. The roofer’s commitment of labor and cost of modern materials makes me feel like the bite it took out of our budget, is matched upstairs dollar for dollar.
Education is way trickier than a roof that looks good and doesn’t leak. We must keep trying to wring value from tax dollars and look for ways to make accountability meaningful. Like Frank Smith, one of my heroes, has declared – education is a disaster. Accept it, and keep working like hell.

More Reliable, Authentic Pseudo-research

2005-02-02T11:09:00.000-08:00

In finance, economics and basketball high numbers are good and low numbers are bad. It is culturally entrenched and saturates the goals and philosophy of education. Scores which go up are good, whether in fact or perception doesn’t matter. The stated goal of this blog is to use it as a means of raising the scores of my students. I play a skeptic here, but in real life I’m on board the number train, despite the local political writer who has been referring to numbers in education as “numerology.”

I am sure numbers can not answer important questions – “What can my students do, which they couldn’t do before they came to me in September, and did my work have anything to do with it?” The answer to that lies in the distant future and is a matter of hope and speculation. You can’t bank it, win with it, or report it. Thus the following numbers. They are good. I’m pleased with them.

Eighty-eight of my students had higher percentages on tests and evaluations of homework, class work and quizzes at the end of the second quarter than at the end of the first quarter. Thirty-eight of this group had gains sufficient to bump up their letter grades one step from what they received first quarter. Sixty-seven students had the same percentage, or lower, with just a few of these in the latter category. Eleven of this group dropped one grade with no change in letter grade for the other fifty-six. Average improvement for all students was over 5% with a couple students with dramatic jumps of 17% and 25%, respectively. One student jumped up two levels, from C to A.

Reasons? I will explore this in detail in my next post. Most factors do not point to my genius, darn it. There is an iatrogenic component to this project. I set the goal, chose the tests, and interpreted the numbers the computer crunched for me, then declared success all by myself. Beyond this disclaimer I cannot objectify my self-interest. All major tests were selected from materials provided by the publisher and I believe these were consistent and appropriate. They were progressively longer and more difficult through the semester.

More On (or moron) Numbers

2005-01-30T05:52:00.000-08:00

Despite my whining about measurement (my lovely wife declares I am obsessed,) I have taken a whole course of statistics and a whole course in accounting, which gives me much depth of knowledge in creative math. I have put it to use in evaluating the semester finals of last week. I follow all the rules of “No Child Left Behind” which declares that the teacher must banish all students who spoil the stats to other schools or the streets and fudge the numbers for the rest. Just kidding.

I do treat the numbers game with more respect than indicated above. Measurement has importance. When I was on my successful diet, each half-pound had joyful meaning - in the down direction. Recently I’m pudging up again, and I don’t look at the scale. Maybe that is a message from my subconscious about my problem with numbers. I love good numbers and deny the bad ones. Isn’t that universal?

So as I crunch numbers produced by stressed students during finals week, I do my best to make them encouraging, while staying within the guidelines set by my profession. I’m serious about it, forget my whining. I’m happy to report that the finals were excellent across the board. I will soon post a pseudo-research report, showing that a large majority of students excelled their averages going into the finals. There were some dramatic up-ticks and no catastrophes. I’m proud of my students. Even for me, good numbers are joyful.

Content of Containers

2005-01-16T15:43:00.000-08:00

Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire--
W. B. Yeats
Yeats is not the only one who understands that the mind is not a container. See "Quotes I Have had on my PDA forever." Yet we insist on believing we can measure the content of the mind. It is as if, if they had our standards, Starbucks would measure out exactly 172 milliliters of product into each cup at precisely 148 degrees Fahrenheit. I don’t want Starbucks to have our standards.

There would be a long line in front of the store if such standards were implemented. A good cup of coffee is seen, touched and tasted – micro-measurements would add nothing, in fact, they would detract from the pleasure.

We teachers are cleaning and polishing the measuring devices for semester finals coming soon. If we could only see the fires and fan them instead. President Bush once explained the political mandate to weigh and measure this way, and I quote verbatim, “You teach a child to read and he or her will be able to pass a literacy test.”

Lead on, Oh Fearless Leadership
To the finals we prepare
And we will measure in their heads
What he or her has there.

(Not W.B. Yeats)

Data driven PseudoGoals - Part Two

2004-12-15T15:16:00.000-08:00

The incentive program to get students to bring books has been successful. Between 87% in the "best" class to 62% in the "worst," students are straining their backs to bring textbooks. The incentive program will continue until the next exams after vacation. Then, I'll do another pseudo-analysis to see if scores are up. Some kids say they think it will have an effect. If candy were the only variable, Hershey could educate the world.

Merry Happy!

2004-12-15T14:43:00.000-08:00

The greeting on the labels I pasted on the 196 Snickers bars I gave to students and staff last week contained several messages, all of them variations of Happy Holidays. Others who share my own practice of celebrating Christmas have been vocal about reclaiming the "Merry Christmas" greeting, I guess out of their sense of the superiority of the tradition.

It is not my sense. The word Christmas may be a thousand years old at most. There is a reference in a manuscript from 1101 AD to christens maesse, the Mass celebrating the birth of Jesus. The compound word, Christmas, was not much in use until the 18^th century, when it became a “season” as well as a particular church service. The “ho-ho-merry-Christmas” fat Santa dates to the Coca-Cola Christmas poster of the 1930’s. In all its derivations, I can’t figure out which stream of tradition the greeting “Merry Christmas” truly belongs. The birth date of Christianity’s founder was not even agreed on for centuries after his death.

More importantly, I have no interest in confusing or one-upping the Jewish, Buddhist, Shamanist, Sikh and other non-Christian people (and Christians, too) who enrich my life every day. I wish them all the hope that the dormancy of “bleak mid-winter” calls for. All of us know that the seed is not dead, but awaiting the renewal of life. This is not a secret attached to any magic words. Happy Holidays!

What This Blog is About

2004-12-14T05:02:00.000-08:00

"Better is a poor but wise youth than an old but foolish king [or teacher] who will no longer take advice."
Qoholeth

Latest Survey

2004-12-10T11:09:00.000-08:00

The latest “quality” survey was the final question on the Spanish Two exam last Tuesday. It read: Please select an answer. How did Mr. Kerby do in getting me ready for this test? Super OK Lame Worse than lame Dunno

Explain.

51 of 56 students responded. Results: Super 11, OK 33, Lame 2, Worse than lame, none, Dunno 5. Comments were quite positive from the 44 OK and Super responders. Because the answers were on the test forms there was no anonymity, but students have become accustomed to speaking their minds, knowing that there will be no negative consequences. Therefore, I felt okay about accepting the praise. I think I’m more consistent and focused and it is paying off. Several of my students have had dramatic upward trends in scores. I’ve seen none going the other direction.

There are still deficiencies but I don’t expect to get a Deficiency Notice in the mail. I hate when I’m grounded.

Data Driven PseudoGoals

2004-12-10T09:12:00.000-08:00

Many educators have advanced degrees in pseudo-science, but I am just a dabbler (see Foreign Language Annals, Winter, 1996, for my contribution to edu-babble.) I couldn’t resist doing a little pseudo correlation this week. I did a surprise count of students who had brought their textbooks with them to class on Thursday, averaged it by class, and compared it to the class average on the previous Tuesday’s exam.

Results from high to low, with period numbers disguised so not to embarrass any particular class (WAKE UP FIRST PERIOD; YOU ARE AT THE BOTTOM!!) follows:
Class A – 73% with books 82% average on test
Class B – 54% with books 77% average on test
Class C – 40% with books 75% average on test
Class D – 67% with books 74% average on test
Class E – 35% with books 59% average on test

Except for the blips in Classes C and D the correlation is high. Of course, the missing variable is the focus, organization skills, and motivation, which pertain to students who both bring texts to class and perform well on tests. However, until I get a grant (Carnegie? Feds? Bill Gates? You reading this?) I am beginning an incentive program (chocolates) to get more kids to bring books and will follow up with another pseudo-study. If it drives up scores, I’ll be on a speaking tour by Spring.

Rhythms and Stuff

2004-12-10T06:23:00.000-08:00

5:05 AM, January 1, 2005!

The first month of the year is here. My daughter’s birthday is in 9 days. Many of the parties for her in past years had outdoor activities because the sun gets warmer just past the Winter solstice in Sacramento. Not always, but there are random previews of Spring in January. Camellias blossom. Buds develop toward the end of the month. Dormancy persists for months in Minneapolis. Sacramento is a more hopeful place for people like myself given to melancholy, the old name for depression.

The rhythms of nature vary around the world, but for us Americans, except for a few experiments, the rhythms of school, two semesters between September and June, the first ending this month has almost the force of nature for me. Even before my kindergarten year my father was enrolled in college, so the rhythm began before I can remember much. I won’t say how long ago that was, lest my students see past my youthful appearance.

Like in the movie “Groundhog Day,” a favorite of mine, each new school year unfolds with an opportunity to experience the patterns, but do better. And produce some meaningless rhetoric, as well. Hence –

Resolutions for 2005 and the Second Semester

1. To produce less meaningless rhetoric.

2. To criticize more gently. Example: Some bozos filled the cabinets in the back of the room with candy wrappers and soda bottles, which I cleaned out during vacation. My inclination is to scream, post obnoxious signs, call Moms, pay snitches, and find other ways to introduce the perps to pain and misery. However, my plan is to understand that I, too, can be a slob. There is no wastebasket in the back of the room. Thus I will temper my criticism with understanding when school begins Monday, unless, of course, I forget this meaningless rhetoric.

3. To not write the traditional 10 resolutions because of resolution number one.

4. To stop being silly. I’m too old for silly. (Just playin’!)

5. To listen better - this is a serious goal. In the past I have forgotten to carry fresh batteries for the hearing aid.

Well, the rhythms of nature and the rhythms of school have been shattered by the rhythms of my day. I get up way too early. The result is all this pointless blabber. Sorry. Back to the serious on Monday!

Hi! Atus!

2004-12-09T07:02:00.000-08:00

The long winter weekend - fourteen days of work away from work - has begun. Should any reader stumble into this site, do not mistake this post for anything serious or on-topic. Feel free to scroll down and see if you can figure out what I'm trying to do here. If you can find any coherency, write me a comment - because I can't see any.
The holiday work is intense, and it is painful to watch my wife do it all, while I write notes to myself on my blog. It will pay off Wednesday, when my son, an architecture student in Colorado, and my daughter, political aide to legislator Leland Yee in S.F., arrive. There simply no better vacation than the four of us together.
I've been to the Louvre, Uffizi Palace, the Vatican, the Met in N.Y. and most of the other great museums and churches of the world - not to exclude the great Museum of Anthropology on Mexico City - all intensely pleasurable experiences. I once cut two days of teaching (very rare, Dr. Lee!) to grab a bargain long weekend in Waikiki. It was to escape the cold winter fog. My wife and I broiled on the beach eating shave (sic) ice, visited Pearl Harbor, and shopped while soaking up the rays. It was magic.
None of the above compares to time with the family. Sometimes I wish I had done more to undermine the confidence of my kids, so that they would have agoraphobia, or some other pathetic condition that would keep them housebound. The world would pity them and I would have them all to myself. Others have succeeded in doing that.
It's too bad the joys of family have been sloganized by the "family values" people,. "Family" speaks for itself. It is a value in sich and is desired by those who have it and those who don't. It is the theme of all major religions, of great literature, and the Joy to the World. How little is the work in comparison.

New Name - Same Old Stuff

2004-12-03T13:18:00.000-08:00

I’ve changed the title of this blog for several reasons. There are dozens of sites on the web with “Old Dog” in the title. As on this site, the old dogs are verifiable – the tricks aren’t always new or even tricks.

Another is that over the years, I have found the fastest route to learning is to drop what I think I already know and start from scratch. In regard to changing one’s values this is “open-mindedness,” but it is also necessary for acquiring skills or command of facts. When I truly believe that I know what I know, I cannot make room for a better version of the truth; never a perfect knowing of truth – just a better model. The only unteachable students I have ever had would not let go of dead “knowledge.” Some of them were “bright” non-learners.

Most helpful for me in making fresh starts has not been liberalism but reading the mystics from both East and West. The breathing exercises, mantras, and postures advocated by the various “mystics” intrigue me less than the basic notion that knowledge is no more than a fractured glance at the truth. These glances continue to the end of life. In education this is called life-long learning.

I have read “The Cloud of Unknowing” by the English parson some twenty times. I have read the Zen Masters, Sufi literature and Buddhist mystics with equal profit, but the “Cloud” speaks to me out of my own traditions. The cloud image works. It is not that the mystical cloud is in itself a way of life – that is called stupidity. But, entering it on a regular basis it has served me well, as have showering, shaving and taking out the garbage.

Thus, I have plagiarized the concept. I find it to be more oblique and pretentious than the old dog one. It fits this blog and me better.

Christmas Afterthought

2004-12-02T09:40:00.000-08:00

It hit me after re-reading my post of Christmas day that "Happy Holidays" is probably no more inclusive than "Merry Christmas." The word "holidays" derives from "Holy Days." "Happy," on the other hand, is very inclusive deriving from Anglo-Saxon "hap" meaning luck. Hap has survived intact in words like mayhap and happenstance. "Lucky Holy Days" seems contradictory in a way.

I guess we're down to Holly Jolly and Care for Some More Eggnog? Any suggestions?

Damage Control

2004-11-25T06:15:00.000-08:00

The Jesuits and physicians share a commitment. They both swear to "do no harm." We do not have such an oath in teacherdom - spelled backwards, dumb teacher. We need it. Principals should make new-hires raise their right hands (and accept the left one - new teachers are nervous, and sometimes not bright) and require them to take the oath.
We should take stock as we grade papers, write curricula, administer discipline, and socialize with students of possible harm. Are we killing interest? Are we undermining confidence to maybe enhance our own? Do we retaliate against those who ignore our monumental sacrifices for their good with bad grades?
The above paragraphs are in the first person plural. Should have been plain first person. I have taken the oath, myself, but blow it sky-high pretty much daily. For all its simplicity, it is very difficult goal. Those Jesuits and doctors are ahead of us.

No Child Left Unafraid

2004-11-21T07:38:00.000-08:00

The phrase “standards for education so that no child is left behind” seems as contradictory to me as “bullet holes for health.” Standards are the means we use to identify the unfit. “YOU MUST BE THIS TALL.” The sign above the stick weeds out the ones too tiny for the Go-Up-and-Throw-Up ride. The maximum weight for a cop is 250 pounds. Above that poundage – “Sell shoes, Fatso! You don’t meet the standard.” Standards inherently leave someone behind – be it the child too small to ride or the policeman too fat to drive. Some get on board, and others wave goodbye.

A standard is never more than a minimum; thus the constant whine of frustration - “We have to raise the bar!” In this cry is the implicit admission that standards are minimums and that minimums are never enough. Much of human enterprise, especially learning and growth, doesn’t lend itself to measurement of minimums using numbers without wasting time and integrity. The measure of a man may be taken, but you don’t report it to the third decimal point. You can’t.

What is measurable answers the question, “Who gets a ticket?” Never mind that the numbers are cooked. Enron was a small fry compared to Education. Never mind that the numbers come from tests written by subjective human beings, infected with every conceivable strain of the self-interest virus. Never mind that the tests are mulched into scantron-friendly formats, then computed by machine. Never mind that every teacher, school, school district, and state hold the bars in a wobbly way at different heights at different times for different people.

What you should mind is that the term “standards,” as currently used, is the code word for natural selection in society. Natural selection seems to work okay for mice and snakes, but Herbert Spencer to the contrary, natural selection is a primitive way to think about social order. Health measured by fewest number of bullet holes. It is also a hypocritical and cruel way to kick kids off the ride. However, I need to think a little longer about that fat cop.

Disclaimer: I published this post, yesterday, then withdrew it within thirty minutes. A very brilliant and beautiful critic read it and mentioned to me that my notions tear down the concept of standards, and point to no replacement or improvement. She is right, as usual. I use standards and benchmarks, goals and targets, including some numbers (see my post, “Grading Time”) in my personal and professional life. I do not admire people who have no “standards.” I know no better way to chart progress.

What gets me cranky about our “system,” is the accountancy mania that has been sloganized, politicized, and absolutized to the point that compassion and sound judgment take a back seat to the data. In the words of Einstein, who knew a few numbers, "Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted."

Solomon on the Size of the Human Brain

2004-11-19T09:09:00.000-08:00

King Solomon, the "patron sage" of Israel said something startling. He said, "He who ignores instruction, despises himself." Wow, self-loathing topped by teacher loathing ('F's')! Sounds like double jeopardy.
I was in a conversation once with a teacher who had one of those classes segregated by the advanced math schedule. (No sir, we don't track students any more, we're all inclusive, one size fits all, mainstreamers we are - never mind GATE, magnet programs and the "weeder courses" like math and foreign language!) She said that she didn't like having all the "bright" kids together because of their "big egos." It got me to thinking. Which comes first, the big ego or achievement? My only answer so far: it's a cycle in an upward or downward direction. Focused attention, achievement, and growth of confidence. Going up!
The downward spiral is self-contempt; "ignoring instruction," (see Solomon, above) followed by low growth, and increased lack of self-respect. To ignore instruction is a choice, but kids change their minds. However, the system of education frequently cements the process for the long term, before they have a chance. We certify the whirlpool kids with bad transcripts and scores and the upward kids with good ones. We’re experts. We have credibility and authority. Sometimes our ratification sticks in the psyche for life and the person becomes a true believer, loving himself for having a big brain - or the opposite.

Grading Time

2004-11-13T13:07:00.001-08:00

Report Card? I don’t know what could have happened, Mom! Could have been lost in the mail. I saw Booger chewing some papers. Did you check the trash?

Student grades for first quarter have posted on the District database. I spent about an hour looking at the grades of 30 or 40 of my students after school last night. Interesting patterns. Typical: A, A, C, B, F, C. Some more dramatic: A, A, A, B, F. Amazingly few followed predictable patterns – all A’s and B’s; all C’s and D’s. I recall one with 3 F’s, a D, and an A. Is there some faint possibility that we teachers are somehow not on the same page when in comes to assessment? Perish the thought – we’re a team.

I was interested in how I graded my students compared to other teachers, but I was mainly preparing myself for crunching the numbers on the 124 report cards my kids had handed me evaluating my job. I was expecting the worst. Some individual critiques of me have been pretty biting, not because the writers of them were biters, but because they were credible.

After about four hours of counting, adding and calculation, here is the result. Three of the cards were thrown out. Two of them were because they did not use letter grades and I could not quantify their grades for me. One other I set aside, because it was straight F’s. I did not think my instruction to grade me thoughtfully and honestly was carried out. I may be wrong, but I do acknowledge receiving and reviewing these three cards. Here follows my results at this time. There is much more to be learned from this piece of my project, but I promised preliminary results this weekend.

General: GPA calculated for 52 Spanish Two students - 3.35. I’m relieved, but I don’t think Mom will buy me that moped yet.

GPA from 69 Spanish One students – 3.23. I want an A by semester time, but I have to consider my talent level. My IQ tops out below the price of gas.

Highest numbers of each grades: The idea is to look for priorities in making improvements. The following is kludgy, but it’s a start.

Highest number of A’s - Mr. Kerby’s respect for me 95

Highest number of B’s - Mr. Kerby’s use of class time 59

Highest number of C’s - Mr. Kerby’s teaching methods 28

Highest numbers of D’s - Mr. Kerby’s homework policy 10

Highest number of F’s – Mr. Kerby’s jokes 5

“Mr. Kerby’s effort to respond to student survey” got mixed grades. 66 A’s, 31 B’s, 12 C’s, 4 D’s, one F. I’m happy with this. The high number of C’s in teaching methods was balanced with 88 A’s and B’s, but is a big concern. I will scramble to improve on this. I’m looking for help even as we type. Also I need to devote more time to watching the Comedy Channel.

Comments: here is a fairly comprehensive list of comments written on the report cards. I corrected some spelling and syntax, but typed most of them verbatim. They are not categorized and many contradict others. When I look at the heterogeneous nature of the kids’ own report cards, with A’s and F’s mixed freely, this does not concern me at all. Besides, two opposites can both be true.

“I feel sleepy when you spend the whole day talking.” (Me, too)

“We should use flashcards each time we’re learning new words; it helps me remember the word including what it means.”

“I really enjoy your class and like your teaching methods, but you could use class time a bit more efficiently.”

“You are a good teacher, but there is still room for improvement. Your jokes are funny, but could we get a little more hands-on learning?”

“You sort of overreact with things. The survey on class disruption seemed to be blown out of proportion.”

“You responded very well and quickly to the student survey. You respect everyone equally well. Your use of class time is good. Your teaching methods aren’t bad. Your homework policy is good – maybe more of, so I won’t forget when I do have homework…. Your jokes are funny, but I don’t hear them any more.”

“I liked your old way of teaching, before the student survey. The ‘distractions’ never really bothered me and now, the constant stopping the class to yell at the distractions are disruptive.”

“I think your teaching method has been sliding since you have been trying to satisfy one student. No one else has been complaining, and no one should suffer just because a person is struggling in your class. Some of your methods of discipline encourages some people to do it more. Also, the class is constantly stopped when you talk to students, and I find that distracting, rather than the people who talk. All of my other classes are like this, and I think it doesn’t bother me one bit. Please go back to your older method of teaching because I think more people will get more out of your lesson.”

“Get some new jokes!”

“I like you because you’re a funny teacher, and you’re really cool. I think that if you are going to assign homework you need to be a little bit more strict. You’re a little bit wishy-washy, but you’ve improved since the beginning of the school year. Your jokes are a bit corny, but that’s what makes them funny.”

“It seems like ever since you have responded to our surveys you have gotten meaner.”

“You’re a very funny teacher with cool ties and pimpin bling-bling.”

“You’re a good teacher, but you could be a little more strict!”

“Need group activities presentations; you also need manually help every student that want help. Provide after school study time.” (Done)

“Mr. Kerby - - - you need to listen to your students. . . You tend to ignore them when they try to tell you something. As much as I hate homework. . . you might consider changing your policy. Ask if people understand/need help and just the smart people. Come up with fun things (like songs) to help us memorize things. Gracias!”

“You should make it a better way to study, and learn so I can understand better.”

“I really like you for a teacher, but I don’t feel like I’m learning any Spanish.”

“I really like the way you’ve improved the teaching; I’m really understanding it.”

“I think that the teaching methods are good; however, you should spread out the assignments, rather than having one large one. For example, instead of having all of our homework in the binder checks, have us turn in h/w separately and grade binder checks on the beginning-of-class work. This way, if a student is unorganized resulting in bad binder checks, they can still get good grades on homework.” (I am looking at this seriously.)

Conclusion: It’s too early for much of one. The report card itself was hastily conceived, and the next one will have a better design with an eye out for producing data with more significance. Kids were serious about it, I believe. I have now put in six hours crunching and reporting. I’m setting it aside for now and will wait for comments.

Herr Professor "X"

2004-11-11T06:34:00.000-08:00

Defining moments, those flashes of insight that tie together experiences and imbue them with a new level of meaning, never happened to me in the teacher ed courses I had to take. Never. I have had epiphanies, however, at the kitchen table, on early morning walks and a couple summers ago in my garage when I read for the last time my ancient college notes and tossed them. No loss.

In that box there were no notes at all from the course on Rilke taught by a blind professor visiting Colorado from Princeton. Yet over the years I have revisited Rilke’s poetry with pleasure. I have experienced defining moments in my growth from continued reading that giant, whose genius, in part, was making the German language seem lyrical. The professor did little but quote Rilke for whole hours of class and make off-the-cuff comments. The final exam was an easy "A." Professor Weigand recited excerpts from Rilke poems and we wrote the titles. His assistant graded them pretty much on the spot and the course ended.

I found no notes from the Rilke, but I found large number of yellowed pages from my courses with the quintessential German professor I’ll refer to as Herr Professor “X” (real name – Ulrich K. Goldsmith.) He could find 15 categories and 20 sub-categories in a bowl of Jello. He could number the petals of a rose without a clue to its fragrance. The sole raison d’etre of pigeons was to be put in their proper holes – by him.

I once saw Professor “X” (real name – Ulrich K. Goldsmith) drink a glass of wine but I could detect no sign of pleasure. His main source of joy seemed to be based on the authority derived from his superior intellect and schooling. He once lent me a book – a very dull one, and pre-scolded me as he handed it to me as if I had already left it at the river – in the rain – to be chewed up by a wild dog. It was a very precious book.

I pulled more than one all-nighter with friends getting ready for his horrendously difficult, long tests. But as I looked at page after page of notes and handouts and returned tests in the pasteboard carton, every one of them was from the moon. The handwriting was mine, but the content was nil. I remembered next to nothing of the four courses I took from Herr Professor “X” (real name – Ulrich K. Goldsmith.) I never followed up on one scrap of a notion I had regurgitated so boringly, painfully on his “rigorous” exams. His courses were huge chunks of data – we would have to read up to 20 books per course. But there were no hooks, no grabbers, no defining moments. I remember some of the books, but not because he opened them. I did.

That box of notes was 40-plus years old. I am at a point in life when I am reaping the benefits of past insights. They guide my learning, my growth. Professor X is either in his 90’s or his grave and I am sorry if I have sullied his memory. He and Professor Wiegand did help me decide what kind of teacher I would like to be - or not be. Thank you, “X.”

Report Card

2004-11-10T13:18:00.000-08:00

Here is the report card students will use to evaluate me on Friday, during the time I will evaluate their daily quizzes, assignments and homework. I will work up my G.P.A over the weekend and discuss my highest and lowest areas. I'm a little nervous.

Subject: Spanish One and Two
Report Period: The Last Two Weeks
For: Mr. Kerby
Please choose a grade for each of the following areas of your experience in this class over the last two weeks. A through F, no incompletes, minuses or plusses.

Mr. Kerby’s effort to respond to student survey. __________

Mr. Kerby’s respect for me. __________

Mr. Kerby’s use of class time. __________

Mr. Kerby’s teaching methods. __________

Mr. Kerby’s homework policy. __________

Mr. Kerby’s jokes. __________

Comments: (Use back if you wish.)

Miscellany

2004-11-08T05:53:00.000-08:00

Miscellany One: Two student surveys called for me to be "meaner," student lingo for strict, blunt, and prone to assign punishments readily. This is not going to happen. The atmosphere in school is already far too adverserial. My goal to learn with my students will not change. I will leave it to others to beat them with a stick. There are a good number of teachers out there up to the job. Not I.

Miscellany Two: I believe strongly in attribution but I got the following from someone I can't recall, who got it from someone he couldn't recall. The author is smart and should get credit. He said,
"The opposite of optimism is not pessimism, but helplessness. "
That leaves no options, does it?
Anybody know who said that?

The Second Survey – The People have Spoken

2004-11-06T05:23:00.000-08:00

It may be significant that my second survey occurred during the week of national elections. Just as the nation voted out liberals, so did my students vote down my “laid back” (term used six or seven times on surveys), permissive, jokey style. The Spanish One classes participated on this one, and echoed the theme. I was tempted as I read the comments to use the “grain of salt” rationalization to avoid the full blow to my ego.
There are many ways to spin bad news; the election campaign gave us proof of that. I had a brief temptation, early (4:30 am) one morning to delete the blog and put my head back in the hole in the sand whence I had pulled it. If, however, this project is to use any principles of Deming’s “quality” philosophy, these temptations must be put aside and not “sicklied o’er with pale cast of thought.” There is no time to maunder and ponder. Second Quarter begins Monday and there are three things to do: implement, implement, and implement. Carl Jung said to use both the dark and the light and at this point I have a ton of the former. Lucky me!
I do not have quantitative results for this week’s survey. The survey took back seat to a busy week of testing and grading because the quarter ended yesterday. The Spanish One answered their question on the back of their chapter exams. It was, “What could Mr. Kerby have done better to prepare you for this test?” The majority of students responded. Answers echoed the responses of the Spanish Two survey last week. (See “My First Survey.”) I read each one, but my next-day return of tests practice, did not allow me time to count and sort answers. I do recall that there were a number of compliments mixed with the critiques. All answers were thoughtful and respectful.
Spanish Two got a how-am-I-doing question, and responses were meager. I did not push them to answer, because review, testing and grades were more on their minds. A couple students wrote kind notes suggesting that this project is a way for me to beat up on myself, and I should lighten up. I am not discounting that point of view.
One of the best responses came from a fine young man. You can read it in the First Survey comments. It came from “Tony, per 2” and gave me a lot to think about. During my fifteen years in my middle school exploratory, I was able to do a lot of free-wheeling, jumping from one theme to another, doing many cultural units, and picking up on the mood of the students. There was no articulation. My goal was to give the kids a positive experience with foreign language, build their confidence and entice them into further study. I have much evidence, some of it empirical, that my work was successful.
‘Tony, per 2’ put his finger on how my transition back to articulated, programmatic courses has faltered. Consistency. Planning. Over a dozen responses from students mentioned study guides. Monday, new quarter begins. Implementation time. Next week’s survey will be a printed report card which students will mark for me. It’s only fair. I marked theirs Friday. Communicating (teaching) is a two-way process.

Format of this page

2004-11-02T08:00:00.000-08:00

I have found the formatting problems on this page may be related to choice of text. The "Smaller" or "Smallest" choice of text size (found on the View dropdown) seems to display it best, including keeping the index of posts at the top rather than the bottom. I am looking for other issues. I'm a fuddy-duddy about such things. Apologies.
wk

William Blake on Learning

2004-10-31T07:26:00.000-08:00

William Blake, mystical poet and artist, understood learning and speaks at cross-purposes to the notions which preoccupy education now. Here are some clippings with cheeky comments.

The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure.
(My state requires 64,800 minutes of instruction per annum.)

The cistern contains: the fountain overflows
(We treat student ability as a cistern. If we did not we would not be able to use a dip stick to measure them.)

The eagle never lost so much time, as when he submitted to learn of the crow.
(How many students have I cawed at, when they could have soared.)

The tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.
(Would we be talking about German/English academic objectivity here?)

The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion. the horse; how he shall take his prey.
(But we have training on how to do well on the SAT. Could each student actually be a unique individual with his/her own way of growing? Crazy thought. Sorry.)

Essay - The Meaning of Grades

2004-10-31T04:34:00.000-08:00

The Meaning of Grades

Public education is dominated by the accountancy mania that Edward Thorndike, only a century ago, began when he invented the notion that knowledge is measurable in numbers. Kieran Egan, Canadian educator, points out in his book, “Getting it Wrong from the Beginning” that the political climate which fostered the the measurement craze was the the rough, tough heyday of industrial capitalism, whose leaders justified their greed with Herbert Spencer’s social Darwinism, which in brief, says that survival in nature also applies to human society – that only the “fit” shall inherit the earth. As a high school teacher in Sacramento, I spend at least a fourth of my time finding the “fit” which really means weeding out the “unfit” so the others may pursue further opportunities. It also means identifying the “semi-fit,” the “C” students, whose future is muddled. I have no choice but to play this kind of god. Even to admit my notion that knowledge becomes visible only when applied in real-time achievement and that this is incomparable, is risky stuff. The numbers game cannot be questioned.

Administrators’ careers are driven by raising scores in their domain. To mention that what we know may not be quantifiable is heterodox. To not feed my computer with “data” about how much Spanish my students “know” and to not humiliate the those with poor numbers can – with no exaggeration – get me fired. It is my job. To even hint that many of the kids I teach test very well but have no future communicating with another human in Spanish is madness in political terms. I know that many others with bad numbers would move to future proficiency, but for one obstacle. That obstacle is that grades mean more than academic evaluation. They mean acceptance or rejection of one human being by another. An “F” is a Writ of Divorce between teacher and student including division of intellectual property, with the teacher keeping his/her “knowledge” and the student’s knowledge as well.

The “system” spins this truth. It says that evaluation is essential to the stair steps of progress. Yet when I look at student records I see critical contradictions. “D” at one level of a subject, “A” at an advanced level with a different, more accepting, teacher. How so? Is it that Egan’s critique of our progressivist model really holds water? Is it that learning is not linear, but meandering, not upward, but outward, valuable, but not measurable, not steady progress, but is marked by reversals and breakthroughs?

What resolves this mess? I am in conflict, because I don’t know. I can see the damage we are doing, but I have no substitute to offer for testing and recording data on students. The holistic pass-fail, get-in-a circle-and-call-me-Bob gimmick was a farce. Doing away with grades will erode motivation. It may well be the necessary evil of universal public education. If I could destroy “accountability” and replace it with a valid system of “responsibility” I would be a genius. I am not. I posted great numbers when I was a student, but none of that helps me achieve a real-time solution to the problem of changing the meaning of grades.

This whine is not original. Peter Sacks, among many others, has done notable work in this area.

Chart I wrote during a boring teachers' meeting

2004-10-30T15:21:00.000-07:00

Education which INFORMS Learners	Education which FORMS Learners
1. Based on time – semesters, grade levels by school year, timed testing. Linear.	Based on breakthroughs, peak experiences, defining moments, non-linear exploration.
2. Failure focused – red marks, “bad” grades, “deficiency” notices. Makes much of what students cannot do.	Celebrates successes, encourages progress, concentrates on what students *can* do.
3. The “good” students are information sponges.	Successful students have insight. They integrate learning with choices and daily life.
4. Word based.	Image based.
5. Explains everything.	Leaves room for mystery.
6. Students meet the minimum standards required by testing.	Students challenged to aim for highest individual potential.
7. Scantron tests. Number-based goals.	Multi-dimensional evaluation and personal guidance.
8. “Top” down, teacher passes information *down* to pupil. Administrator-supervised curriculum.	Person-to-person. Teacher learns beside students, not above them.
9. Decisions are made for learners.	Students are given many options.
10. Teacher centered.	Learner centered.

Ten Earmarks of Learning

Wilson Kerby

Quote from Peter Sacks

2004-10-30T13:15:00.000-07:00

"In a nation that nominally eschews class distinctions as unbefitting our supposed classlessness, whose elected officials decry any protest over government largesse to the rich as "class warfare," real Americans -- most of whom are suckers, it turns out -- spend untold amounts of time, cash and effort obsessing on a tiny number of elite colleges that really, really don't want the vast majority of them as members." -- from Peter Sacks's May 5, 2003, essay in The Nation.
www.petersacks.org

Quotes I've Had on my PDA for Years

2004-10-30T11:48:00.000-07:00

An educator would evaluate a race horse by taking random samplings of how much manure the horse produces per semester compared to others in the same age group.
wk

Education is the state-controlled manufacture of echoes.
Norman Douglas

A fool's brain digests philosophy into folly, science into superstition, and art into pedantry. Hence University education.
George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)

Education ... has produced a vast population able to read but unable to distinguish what is worth reading.
G. M. Trevelyan

Education: That which discloses to the wise and disguises from the foolish their lack of understanding.
Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914) - The Devil's Dictionary, 1911

Experience is that marvelous thing that enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again.
F. P. Jones

God made the Idiot for practice, and then He made the School Board.
Mark Twain (1835-1910)

Good judgement comes from experience, and experience--well, that comes from poor judgement.
Cousin Woodman

Good teaching is one-fourth preparation and three-fourths theater.
Gail Godwin

Grad school is the snooze button on the clock-radio of life.
John Rogers, comedian (who holds a graduate degree in physics)

I cannot teach anybody anything, I can only make them think.
Socrates (470-399 B.C.)

I don't give a damn for a man who can spell a word only one way.
Mark Twain (1835-1910)

I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.
Mark Twain (1835-1910)

It is a miracle that curiosity survives formal education.
Albert Einstein (1879-1955)

It is possible to store the mind with a million facts and still be entirely uneducated.
Alec Bourne , A Doctor's Creed

The advantage of a classical education is that it enables you to despise the wealth which it prevents you from achieving.
Russell Green

The average Ph.D. thesis is nothing but the transference of bones from one graveyard to another.
Frank J. Dobie - A Texan in England, 1945

The best teacher is the one who suggests rather than dogmatizes, and inspires his listener with the wish to teach himself.
Edward Bulwer-Lytton

The fewer the facts, the stronger the opinion.
Arnold H. Glasow

The whole art of teaching is only the art of awakening the natural curiosity of young minds for the purpose of satisfying it afterwards.
Anatole France

We learn from experience that men never learn anything from experience.
George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)

I prefer the company of peasants because they have not been educated sufficiently to reason incorrectly.
Michel de Montaigne (1533 - 1592)

"Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted."
- Albert Einstein

The authority of those who teach is often an obstacle to those who want to learn.
-- Cicero

How is it that little children are so intelligent and men so stupid? It must be education that does it.
-- Alexandre Dumas fils

It is best to learn as we go, not go as we have learned.
-- Leslie Jeanne Sahler

He that reads and grows no wiser seldom suspects his own deficiency, but complains of hard words and obscure sentences, and asks why books are written which cannot be understood.
Author: Samuel Johnson

A man ought to read just as his inclination leads him; for what he reads as a task will do him little good.
Author: Samuel Johnson

Praise does wonders for our sense of hearing.
Author: Arnold H. Glasow

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
Author: Samuel Beckett

Strengthen me by sympathizing with my strength, not my weakness.
Author: A Bronson Alcott

Sixty years ago I knew everything; now I know nothing; education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance.
Author: Will Durant

I never failed once. I invented the light bulb. It just happened to be a 2,000-step process.
Author: Thomas Edison

In times of change learners inherit the earth while the learned find themselves beautifully equipped to deal with a world that no longer exists.
Eric Hoffer

The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be kindled.
-- Plutarch

My First Survey

2004-10-30T09:22:00.000-07:00

FIRST SURVEY: I was puzzled by the fact that a very high percentage of my students were receiving high scores for daily work, homework, short quizzes and written exercises. At the same time unit test scores were unusually low. Therefore this prompt: What should Mr. Kerby do better to help you raise your test grades? Responses numbered 42 out of 65 students and consistently followed along the lines of the following,

“Mr. Kerby’s class is cool and really laid back and we do our work and often watch a video, but when he gives his tests it’s super hard. It’s like we didn’t even learn the material. It’s kind of unfair that his tests are so hard and his class is so easy.

. . . Maybe Mr Kerby should help us a little more for preparing
for the tests or give us a study guide, something to help improve my grades on tests.”

Other students echoed the basic theme – Kerby teaches easy and tests hard. This was hard to swallow, since my philosophy and goal is just the opposite, teach hard, test easy. My perception was that I was succeeding in my goal, but student after student hued to the same line and I have begun to make changes – after a short period of denial and rationalizing, of course. My “laid back” style, which had worked for me in middle school was backfiring in high school – big time!

Other suggestions for teaching harder involved more use of overhead, more review of homework and written exercises and even –gasp-in-surprise – more homework. In nearly ever response there was a call for more repetition. “Go over vocabulary;” “ more review before tests;” “go over small, simple words.” My vast and solid expertise in retroactive inhibition, my own memory of how much repetition I have always needed to master material has been going unapplied. Sadly, knowledge unapplied has no value, if it exists at all. You may quote me.
There is no question that I missed other important themes in the survey responses. The hard/easy thing is what jumped out at me. It loads my plate for now. Tiny steps for tiny feet.

IMPLEMENTATION: This week I have conscientiously written all responses to exercises, quiz questions, on overhead projector. I have previously had the fear that taking the time required to do this would lead to student boredom. On the contrary, I lost fewer students than in oral-only presentations.

I have made an effort to read student reactions and to re-teach and review. Again, no loss in engagement of students.

FOLLOW-UP: Next Tuesday, Election Day, I will be giving another unit test to all classes. Important feedback will come from the test scores, but I will have time after collecting the exams to feed students another prompt. It will most likely be along these lines: “Do you see any changes, yet, in Mr. Kerby’s teaching? Name a couple and rate them – impercebtible, weak, adequate or very useful?” Given my talent for self-deception I have no prediction as to the outcome of this next survey. Any way it goes I will have a lot of work ahead. However, I have 42 or more very capable mentors to guide me in my efforts. I haven’t started the process yet with my Spanish One classes, so I have another 90 helpers in the wings.

2004-10-30T08:50:00.000-07:00

Here is what started this weblog - - - -

PROFESSIONAL GROWTH PROJECT

Thursday, October 28, 2004

Wilson Kerby, CKM, 2004-2005, Spanish One, Spanish Two

1. Please list three goals and how they relate to student learning and instructional strategies.

A. In order to speed up my re-adjustment to high school instruction after a long interlude in middle school, I will collect feedback from students on a weekly basis on issues of pacing of instruction, testing, homework, classroom management, student-teacher-parent relations, study skills, daily curriculum and any other issues that emerge. I will use principles from W. Edwards Deming’s “quality” philosophy in developing prompts for the students.

B. I will analyze this feedback material, produce data when appropriate, write a journal, and make immediate changes to my curriculum, as needed.

C. I will share my journal and data with my department, interested peers and administrators, and the public. (See below.)

2. Describe how you will evaluate the effects of your professional growth plan on student learning.

A. Option 1 Evaluation

B. The student-feedback mechanism will provide a loop as to how well I am implementing.

3. Plan for at least two interactions with peers and/or administrators to get feedback, present a demonstration or other product.

A. Option 1 Evaluation visits.

B. Publish journal on internet as a weblog. With a blog I can get input and critiques from a wide spectrum of students, teachers, administrators or other cranks.

4. Establish benchmark and agreed-upon approximate dates for conferences with your administrator.

A. December, 2004 - Evaluation by journal of overall effectiveness of project on my insights, strategies, test scores of students and student opinion.

B. February, 2005 – As above.

C. May thru June, 2005 – As above. Reflection and redesign.

Silence in this Blog

2004-10-29T17:37:00.000-07:00

There is a silence which comforts. I use the CD/Tape/FM/AM device in my Volvo rarely - in fact, almost never. I have many dozens of CD's, but no play. I avail myself of silence as often as I can. I like the saying of Solomon who said, "drink from your own well." The mad welter of sounds and images from everywhere - TV, radio, internet, car stereos muddies that well.

By the same token, the silence in this blog seems comfortable. My employers (the students of CKM High School) have been very quiet for several days. It won't continue, because I'll be stirring the pot soon. For now, sweet.

If you view these thoughts as self-serving, self-pitying, and narcissistic, my wife would agree. I have no rebuttal.

"F" Students

2004-10-28T10:16:00.000-07:00

There is something about a student who gets many "F's" and quietly accepts this and has faith in those who labeled him with this scarlet letter that draws me. They sit as far away from me as they can. They pull their hoods over their heads and make themselves into a huddled mass yearning to breath free. I think of Omar Khayam/Edward Fitzgerald's quattrain when I look at them.

"But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub croucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee."

Sometimes I speak with them sympathetically, sometimes with raised voice, sometimes with one of my well-practiced dramatic acts. Some of them are my favorite people. I sometimes pad their grades to give them at least one sliver of hope. But, they are dead men walking because, although they still attend classes, carry a heavy backpack and don't chew gum in the presence of teachers, their future in school is repetition of what has already not worked for them - then banishment.

How histrionic of me to write this. I must splash my face with cold water and get real. These kids are losers and it is the job of education, from whose trough I slop so cheerfully, to make them aware of this status - forever.