I enjoy being the Social Studies department chair. It gives me a feeling of stewardship over the Social Studies curriculum that I simply didn't have before, and it helps to break down the mentality that I think can be so tempting for high school teachers, that our classrooms are our own personal kingdoms. Looking at the big picture has pushed me to look at how our classes all connect, and where it is we are going.
Sometimes, this means being extra-flexible and adaptable.
We have been updating our standards this year. Not a dramatic change, really--just updating to the most recent edition of the standards we already had. However, this process has sparked discussions of tremendous value, and prompted some serious introspection on the part of the Social Studies PLC (Professional Learning Community).
We observed that each year, our Seniors tend to perform at a lower level than we would like to see on their political analysis for their Senior Comprehensives process, particularly in comparison to their cultural analysis. We noted that while economic analysis had been another area of weakness, it has substantially improved with the addition of a popular AP Economics elective for Juniors and Seniors two years ago.
The reason for this gap has much to do with our international school setting. Although we adhere to an American-style education in many respects, it simply doesn't make sense to teach an American Government course--a standard requirement for students in the US--when only a handful of students in each class have a U.S. passport. In short, it can be a challenge to teach civics and the responsibilities of citizenship to a diverse group of students who may not feel much connection to the countries listed on their passports.
We agreed that a comparative politics course would be ideal, but limitations on scheduling make that impossible for the time being.
This is where my deep feelings of stewardship as the department chair kicked in: at the time of this discussion in late March, I was in the process of finalizing my April unit for my 11th Grade Humanities class.
I made the decision to scrap several of the activities and assessments that I had originally planned (revolving around the concept of the American Dream, and immigration to the United States), and instead created a week-long exercise in which the students would need to examine a current issue of their choice from a local, national and global perspective. This would involve looking into the workings of governments and organizations at each level, and assessing the advantages and limitations of pursuing solutions at each level.
Because this was a last-minute addition on my part, it was an awkward fit in my unit on the American Dream, and I didn't have the time to prepare to do any real instruction or modeling of what this kind of analysis would look like. However, I felt like the process itself would be valuable, even with minimal instruction up-front, and it was.
The students struggled. I reminded them time and again that this was a formative, and not a summative assessment, something designed to build their understanding rather than issue a final judgment. To this end, I weighted the assignment to be worth only one point in the grade-book, and adjusted the grading scale so that a '3' (Meeting the Standard) would be 100%. The only reason I was putting it in the grade-book at all, I told them, was to hold them accountable for doing it.
Even so, the students struggled, agonized and wrestled. This was something new for them, and for many, that newness was an uncomfortable feeling. A number of students asked good questions as they worked:
Is this a national or a global organization?
What if the U.N. doesn't address my issue specifically?
What does it mean if there aren't any local groups or organizations trying to solve my issue?
Can I compare two different countries' responses to the same issue?
Isn't my issue just the symptom of a bigger issue?
How do I find out how a nation's government works?
I definitely didn't have the answers to all of these questions, but I enjoyed the chance to sit down and talk with students, and help them think through answers, or at the very least, where they could find answers. Last Friday, when the write-up was due, I emailed the students telling them to submit the assignment regardless of whether it was complete or not, that they had done the mental legwork I wanted them to do. I'm in the middle of reading and responding to the students' write-ups, and while they are far from perfect, I take comfort in the fact that the students are starting to think in terms of political implications, and that they are beginning to recognize the differences between action on a local scale, national scale and global scale. I'm glad that I did this activity, and that when the students need to engage in this kind of political analysis in their Senior year, they'll have something to stand on.
Next year, I will rearrange my curriculum to make room for an entire unit on citizenship and action. This is a need I'm committed to addressing; a gap I'm committed to closing. Maybe someday, we will be able to require a full-year comparative politics course (hey, I can dream, can't I?), but for now, I'll look for ways to adapt, building on what the students have learned before, and building toward what the students need to do before they graduate.
Coupled with the massive change in my routine with a baby daughter in the house, I feel like I'm learning flexibility and adaptability left and right these days!
Thursday, May 4, 2017
Friday, March 17, 2017
Atomic Café
In the seven years since I inherited the 11th Grade Humanities course, I have made some sweeping changes to the curriculum. In the process, I have removed some activities, lessons and materials that I really enjoyed, but which did not have a clear connection to my course themes. Other lessons and materials, however, have stood the test of time, finding their way back into my syllabus year after year.
Atomic Café is one such example.
I love teaching Atomic Café, but I feel like it has been only in the last year or two that I have gotten to the point where I teach it well.
For those who aren't familiar, Atomic Café is a 1982 documentary directed by Jayne Loader, and brothers Kevin and Pierce Rafferty. Eschewing such popular documentary techniques as voice-over narrations and contemporary interviews, Loader and the Rafferties instead spent five years sifting through thousands of hours of archival footage from the 1940s and 50s: military training videos, newsreels, government propaganda, Duck and Cover drills, and more. Exclusively using these old clips, underscored by a soundtrack drawn from Cold War and A-Bomb-inspired songs released in the 40s and 50s, the filmmakers put together a brilliant 85 minute glimpse into the early years of the Cold War, and the alternating enthusiasm and hysteria over a world with atomic weapons.
I learned through several painful years of even usually responsible students sleeping through the documentary that it requires extensive set-up and commentary on my part to ensure that the students appreciate and learn from it.
Context--not only on the Cold War, but also on the cultural climate in the late 70s and early 80s when the film was produced--is a must. I now do this through a set of lecture videos that I assign the students to watch before we view the documentary; these videos do not go into great depth, but provide a basic framework for engagement.
I've also learned that while we are watching the documentary, I need to comment regularly on the strategies used by the filmmakers, pointing out what makes the best moments of the documentary so good.
One reason that I love teaching Atomic Cafe is that it is an incredibly layered documentary. It fits well within our unit on Stewardship, Science and Technology, as it shows how society's faith in science and technology can shift and change, and as it emphasizes the importance of thinking for oneself, and not merely accepting propaganda at face value (something we discuss in an earlier lesson on Rachel Carson and DDT).
It is also a masterful satire, a dark comedy that provides laughs even as it tackles serious subject matter. Deconstructing how the filmmakers manage this is a feat in film analysis as well as argument analysis.
Early in the documentary, the filmmakers use an audio track of commentators comparing the desolation of Hiroshima to "Ebbets Field after a double-header with the Giants." These flippant remarks are played over footage of the rubble, including several shots of charred corpses.
In a clip of unedited newsreel, President Harry S. Truman can be seen laughing and joking with someone off-camera before suddenly becoming grave, to make the announcement about the dropping of the first bomb.
The jingle from the famous "Burt the Turtle" Duck-and-Cover tutorial is played over clip after clip of children diving under desks, couches, beds and teeter-totters.
A propaganda reel about fall-out shelters is inter-cut with a scientist describing how the intensity of the fire-storm created by the atomic blast would incinerate or asphyxiate anyone hiding in a fallout shelter.
And of course, there's the film's soundtrack--I make a point of printing the song lyrics for the students to refer to as they watch. These songs have not stood the test of time, and come across as unsettling or ridiculous to modern ears. Consider, for example, "When They Drop the Atomic Bomb" by Jackie Doll and his Pickled Peppers, released in 1951:
There will soon be an end to this cold and wicked war
When those hard headed Communists get what they're lookin' for
Only one thing that will stop them and their atrocious bunch
If General MacArthur drops an atomic bomb
There'll be fire, dust and metal flying all around
And the radioactivity will burn their playhouse down
If there's any Commies left they'll be all on the run
If General MacArthur drops an atomic bomb
The bureaus and departments have been busy night and day
They're figuring out just how we gave our secrets all away
And Congress has appointed a committee so they said
To find out who's American and who's a low-down Red
Atomic Café is one such example.
I love teaching Atomic Café, but I feel like it has been only in the last year or two that I have gotten to the point where I teach it well.
For those who aren't familiar, Atomic Café is a 1982 documentary directed by Jayne Loader, and brothers Kevin and Pierce Rafferty. Eschewing such popular documentary techniques as voice-over narrations and contemporary interviews, Loader and the Rafferties instead spent five years sifting through thousands of hours of archival footage from the 1940s and 50s: military training videos, newsreels, government propaganda, Duck and Cover drills, and more. Exclusively using these old clips, underscored by a soundtrack drawn from Cold War and A-Bomb-inspired songs released in the 40s and 50s, the filmmakers put together a brilliant 85 minute glimpse into the early years of the Cold War, and the alternating enthusiasm and hysteria over a world with atomic weapons.
I learned through several painful years of even usually responsible students sleeping through the documentary that it requires extensive set-up and commentary on my part to ensure that the students appreciate and learn from it.
Context--not only on the Cold War, but also on the cultural climate in the late 70s and early 80s when the film was produced--is a must. I now do this through a set of lecture videos that I assign the students to watch before we view the documentary; these videos do not go into great depth, but provide a basic framework for engagement.
I've also learned that while we are watching the documentary, I need to comment regularly on the strategies used by the filmmakers, pointing out what makes the best moments of the documentary so good.
One reason that I love teaching Atomic Cafe is that it is an incredibly layered documentary. It fits well within our unit on Stewardship, Science and Technology, as it shows how society's faith in science and technology can shift and change, and as it emphasizes the importance of thinking for oneself, and not merely accepting propaganda at face value (something we discuss in an earlier lesson on Rachel Carson and DDT).
It is also a masterful satire, a dark comedy that provides laughs even as it tackles serious subject matter. Deconstructing how the filmmakers manage this is a feat in film analysis as well as argument analysis.
Early in the documentary, the filmmakers use an audio track of commentators comparing the desolation of Hiroshima to "Ebbets Field after a double-header with the Giants." These flippant remarks are played over footage of the rubble, including several shots of charred corpses.
In a clip of unedited newsreel, President Harry S. Truman can be seen laughing and joking with someone off-camera before suddenly becoming grave, to make the announcement about the dropping of the first bomb.
The jingle from the famous "Burt the Turtle" Duck-and-Cover tutorial is played over clip after clip of children diving under desks, couches, beds and teeter-totters.
A propaganda reel about fall-out shelters is inter-cut with a scientist describing how the intensity of the fire-storm created by the atomic blast would incinerate or asphyxiate anyone hiding in a fallout shelter.
And of course, there's the film's soundtrack--I make a point of printing the song lyrics for the students to refer to as they watch. These songs have not stood the test of time, and come across as unsettling or ridiculous to modern ears. Consider, for example, "When They Drop the Atomic Bomb" by Jackie Doll and his Pickled Peppers, released in 1951:
There will soon be an end to this cold and wicked war
When those hard headed Communists get what they're lookin' for
Only one thing that will stop them and their atrocious bunch
If General MacArthur drops an atomic bomb
There'll be fire, dust and metal flying all around
And the radioactivity will burn their playhouse down
If there's any Commies left they'll be all on the run
If General MacArthur drops an atomic bomb
Or this bit from Carson Robison's "I'm No Communist":
They're figuring out just how we gave our secrets all away
And Congress has appointed a committee so they said
To find out who's American and who's a low-down Red
These lyrics are strikingly played over footage of men in suits looking through a pumpkin patch and scrutinizing each pumpkin carefully.
Because the music at first feels seamlessly integrated with the clips chosen by the filmmakers, the viewer can easily forget that they were not originally paired together, and possibly miss out on the lyrics, so I intentionally draw attention to the music and the lyrics as the students watch.
This year, we followed up our viewing of Atomic Café with a discussion of what the filmmaker's point of view was, and how they managed to convey that point of view. The students were able to identify the critique of government propaganda, the call to think for oneself, and the bleak perspective on a world with atomic weapons, and perhaps just as importantly, they were able to identify specific moments and strategies throughout the documentary that had revealed the filmmakers' point of view.
Atomic Café can feel like a bit of a slog initially, with its grainy black and white footage, its lack of a guiding narrator's voice, and the degrees of separation that my international classroom has from post-war America, by virtue of time and distance. However, with the right set-up and commentary, it can be a rich and engaging teaching tool. I'm already looking forward to using it again next year!
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Encountering Grace and Truth
We went into February 23rd with tempered expectations: after all, how many babies actually arrive on the due-date?
恵真 (Emma) Sophia Gibson was born at 2:35 am this morning, Friday, February 24!
She weighs 3046 g (6.7 lbs).
Her name has special significance:
We chose the kanji 恵 (pronounced 'eh'), which means grace, and 真 (pronounced 'ma'), which means truth. "Growing in Grace & Truth" has been our school theme this year at CAJ, and it is indeed what we hope for our daughter as she grows. Emma was also my grandmother's name, and she lived a life marked by grace and truth. It's a blessing beyond measure to make my daughter--her great-grand daughter--her namesake.
Sophia, we chose because we desire for our daughter to grow in wisdom, along with grace and truth, qualities we believe to be inextricably bound to one another. We also liked the sound of the name "Emma Sophia"--that was an English teacher thing ;-)
Mother and daughter are resting after a long night, and although I cannot claim to have done any of the hard work, I feel in need of a rest too. We are so incredibly grateful for all of your prayers throughout the pregnancy, and covet your prayers as we begin life as a new family of three!
Tomomi's weekly checkup that morning seemed to confirm that we would be waiting a while longer, though perhaps not as long as we feared--the doctor told Tomomi that if the baby had not arrived by Sunday, they would induce labor on Monday.
Still, I was a ball of nervous energy at school that day, and checked my phone compulsively for the message from Tomomi.
My students seemed almost as jumpy as me--when I put on my jacket to go out and get lunch, one girl asked if the baby was coming. Later, as I checked my phone, another student asked, "is it time?"
Tomomi and I had recently started taking long afternoon walks based on the belief that regular exercise might speed things along (and, if we're being honest, to help me burn off the nervous energy). I came home at 4:15, ready to go for a long walk when I found Tomomi standing hunched, eyes closed, leaning on the arm of the couch for support, breathing sharply.
"Contraction?" I asked.
She nodded.
"This is different than before, isn't it?"
Nod.
Half a minute later, she visibly relaxed, sat down on the couch, and tapped the screen of her phone. I sat down next to her.
"They started earlier this afternoon." She pointed at her phone, on which she had been tracking the contractions. For the past hour or so, they had been coming every 8-15 minutes.
"I don't suppose you're up for a walk today?"
"I don't think so. I need to finish making dinner, anyway." Tomomi had been slicing vegetables for crock-pot curry when the contractions had started several hours earlier, and the whole process had become a start-and-stop effort since then.
I offered to help, but Tomomi told me that she needed the distraction, that sitting and waiting for the next contraction was kind of scary.
"Is it kind of like when you have the hiccups and you spend the time between hiccups worrying about the next hiccup?" Before I had even finished asking the question, I felt foolish. Had I really compared labor pains to the hiccups?
But Tomomi just smiled patiently. "Yeah, kind of like that."
Over the next two hours, the contractions kept coming, though they were still between 8 and 12 minutes apart. Each time a contraction would hit, Tomomi would stop what she was doing and take a knee. By the time we sat down to eat, I had the distinct feeling that we were in for a long night.
We ate Tomomi's delicious chicken curry and watched an episode of House on Netflix. For the record, I do not recommend watching House when you are anticipating a trip to the hospital.
As we were finishing our dinner, we received a Facebook message from our friend and downstairs neighbor Kiko, who offered to bring us up a plate of pepper beef and rice. This turned out to be sharp instinct on Kiko's part--she knew it was the due-date and that we might need extra meals soon, but when she came up to drop off the plate and saw Tomomi's face as a contraction hit, she told us that it looked like the real deal, and that Tomomi should take a bath and then call the hospital. Kiko also prayed over us, which was a tremendous encouragement.
So, I ran Tomomi a bath, and put together notes for a substitute teacher for the next day, just in case. Afterwards, Tomomi called the hospital, who told us to be there by 9 pm. I sent my sub request, and emailed my students to let them know I wouldn't be in school the next day. Tomomi had already packed a travel bag for her hospital stay a few weeks earlier, but double-checked to make sure she had everything she needed.
We then walked the 15 minutes to the hospital--Tomomi felt like she could handle that, and she powered through four contractions on the way, the first and last of which occurred precisely as we walked out the door of our apartment, as precisely as we arrived at the hospital, respectively.
Friends had cautioned us not to be disappointed if we were sent home, whether due to false labor, or to arriving when the labor was still in too early of a stage to stay, so I mentally prepared myself for this possibility as the midwife monitored the contractions.
After 30 minutes of waiting in the hall, the midwife summoned me back to a labor-delivery room, explaining that the baby was on its way. She predicted that the baby would arrive by the next morning, "hopefully by 7am".
The contractions were still 6-8 minutes apart, and the midwife's prediction was not terribly encouraging.
The contractions became more severe, and the image I'd concocted of spending the night sitting at the head of the bed, holding Tomomi's hand soon shattered. Instead, my job became to push forcefully against Tomomi's lower back during each contraction, as that was where the pain seemed to radiate from. The midwife helpfully demonstrated how to time the pushing and how to coach Tomomi on the breathing, and this became my one valuable contribution--at first, every 6-8 minutes, but eventually, every 3-5 minutes. I gained a new appreciation for the term "labor"--I cannot even imagine the hard work that Tomomi was doing, but I know that I worked up a sweat and sore muscles as I swiftly took my position at Tomomi's back with each contraction to push her lower back and try to help her through. (And just to be clear, when I say 'push', I mean PUSHING with all my might. I tried just pressing her back, but Tomomi made it clear right away that I needed to put some real force into the motion).
The midwife returned just after midnight to check Tomomi's progress. She was a stern, but patient and calm woman who looked to be in her 50s, and seemed as though not much could surprise her. However, I thought I noted a hint of surprise as she checked the read-out from the monitor. She explained that everything was moving along quickly and that the baby would arrive sooner than she had predicted.
Several friends later suggested to me that the quicker pace meant that probably labor was a little bit more intense and painful than if it had progressed as slowly as the midwife had originally thought. This realization gave me all the more admiration for what Tomomi accomplished.
Early in the evening, we were able to talk and joke between contractions, but it became clear after midnight that trying to lighten the mood with a joke would not be terribly helpful. Instead, with each rest, I handed her water bottle to her, told her she was doing an amazing job, and prayed with her. Eventually, there wasn't even time for that, and it even became challenging to catch my breath between contractions, myself.
One time, when a particularly big contraction ended, we heard a woman in the room next door shrieking in pain. Tomomi and I just looked at each other--was that what we had ahead of us? Several minutes later, we heard a baby's cries coming from that same room.
Tomomi managed to say "I envy her" before another wave of pain hit.
There are a few things I'll never forget about those hours: how warm the room was (we agreed that it was too warm), how dry the air was (we both came away with scratchy throats), and the quiet classical music playing over the room speaker, which seemed so jarringly incongruous with the intensity of each contraction.
At some point just before 2am, the midwife returned and asked me to wait in the hall while they set up the room for delivery. I came back in, and four or five big pushes later, Emma Sophia Gibson entered the world, at 2:37 am.
The first moment I saw my daughter was indescribable--I started crying almost immediately, and looked at Tomomi, who had a look of total joy on her face for the first time since labor had started.
Tomomi looked Emma over as she held her in her arms, turned to me and grinned. "Black wins."
We'd had a running bet about whether her hair would be black or red, and the odds weren't exactly in my favor to begin with (curse you, finicky redhead allele!). To be fair, on later inspection, we realized that her hair was a dark shade of brown with some light brown streaks.
I was then promptly ushered out to the hall, so that the midwife and nurses could check Emma over, and tend to Tomomi's battle-wounds.
I Facebook messaged my parents and emailed my brother and sister, telling them her name and sending a picture I'd snapped as Tomomi held her.
When I was allowed back into the room, the nurses snapped a family photo of the three of us, and gave us some time with Emma, before taking her to the hospital nursery so that Tomomi could rest.
The next few hours were surreal--we were both still feeling some adrenaline, and talked and joked about the labor. Then, Tomomi began to nod off, and I sent out emails to friends, students, and the CAJ community.
Soon enough, I began feeling drowsy, too. However, there was no place to sleep, and so I spent a tedious hour or so sitting in the overly warm, dry delivery room wondering what to do. When Tomomi woke up, she asked a nurse if there was a place I could sleep. Unfortunately, there wasn't--not without a prior reservation, and I wondered silently whether anyone could actually predict something like this enough in advance to make a reservation. So, I kissed Tomomi goodnight, told her she had done an amazing job, and I was proud of her, and I loved her, before walking home in a stupor.
There's much more I could say about my precious Emma, but I really just wanted to write about the hours leading up to her birth--the labor and the delivery--before it becomes a blurry memory.
I'll close by sharing the email I sent out to the CAJ community and posted on Facebook:
恵真 (Emma) Sophia Gibson was born at 2:35 am this morning, Friday, February 24!
She weighs 3046 g (6.7 lbs).
Her name has special significance:
We chose the kanji 恵 (pronounced 'eh'), which means grace, and 真 (pronounced 'ma'), which means truth. "Growing in Grace & Truth" has been our school theme this year at CAJ, and it is indeed what we hope for our daughter as she grows. Emma was also my grandmother's name, and she lived a life marked by grace and truth. It's a blessing beyond measure to make my daughter--her great-grand daughter--her namesake.
Sophia, we chose because we desire for our daughter to grow in wisdom, along with grace and truth, qualities we believe to be inextricably bound to one another. We also liked the sound of the name "Emma Sophia"--that was an English teacher thing ;-)
Mother and daughter are resting after a long night, and although I cannot claim to have done any of the hard work, I feel in need of a rest too. We are so incredibly grateful for all of your prayers throughout the pregnancy, and covet your prayers as we begin life as a new family of three!
-------------------------------
The evening of February 23rd and the wee hours of February 24th are a night I will never, ever forget. I'm so grateful to God for bringing us safely through, and bringing Emma into this world. Now begins the new adventure called parenthood. I'm terrified, I'm ill-equipped, but I couldn't be more excited!
 |
| Our first family picture! |
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| Emma-chan, 30 minutes old |
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| Emma-chan, 36 hours old |
Thursday, February 9, 2017
Making the World a Little Smaller
It never ceases to astound me that as connected as our world is by modern technology, our classrooms can still feel like islands.
Several years ago, I read Curriculum 21 by Heidi Hayes Jacobs for a Master's course. Jacobs puts forth a compelling vision of what education ought to look like in the 21st century, and describes what various schools and teachers are currently doing to make that vision a reality. Naturally, technology featured prominently in several chapters, including the recommendation that communication technology be used to connect students with other people around the world.
I wonder how many of us have connections we simply haven't recognized. Several years ago, while my brother was teaching high school math on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation through Teach For America, I had the idea to have him talk to my students on Google's video chat. I hooked my laptop up to the projector, and he joined our class for 40 minutes to talk about his experiences. In a curricular sense, the activity was an after-thought. I hadn't prepped my students, and did not have a clear theme in the unit that I was teaching, other than "Native Americans have had it rough". Fun as it was to bring my brother into my classroom from halfway around the world, I missed opportunity after opportunity to really make his virtual visit count.
We did it again the next year, and even had the opportunity to talk to several of his students, who were as curious to talk to a class full of international school students in Japan as my students were to talk to Lakota students in South Dakota. That opportunity made the experience more meaningful than the year before, but again, the idea lacked sound curricular context.
After that year, my brother's contract with Teach for America wrapped up, and he embarked on his Master's degree. I didn't think to utilize his knowledge and experiences again for a couple years.
This year, as my brother began to apply to law schools, having finished his Master's degree, he told me that one direction he was considering was to study Native American policy. His time living and working with the Lakota people had profoundly impacted him, and it was clear that the plight of Native Americans today was still very much on his mind and heart. Everything clicked into place in that instant. In the two years since I had last invited him to talk to my students, I had developed a unit exploring issues connected to Agency and Victimhood, and it occurred to me that my brother would have keen insights into what agency does and does not look like for Native Americans today.
I was already planning to have my students examine slavery and women's suffrage as case-studies in this unit, and from there it was not too much work to carve out time for the historical and contemporary issues facing Native Americans as a third case study. I had my students research and present on Lakota history, culture, boarding schools/assimilation efforts, contemporary social issues, political structure and modern day activism. They presented in groups on Monday, and my brother talked to the students on Tuesday.
This was far more interactive than the previous conversations had been. My brother started by briefly describing what he did during his two years on the reservation, but after that, the floor was open for my students to ask questions. One student asked whether the government's heavy involvement was hindering the Lakota from improving their situation. Another student asked whether or not it was right for the people to resist the government. Another student asked what my brother thought the first step needed to be to effect real change.
The discussion was steeped in the thinking my students had done on agency leading up to this point, and this lent all the more weight to my brother talking about how his goal was essentially to teach himself out of a job, to see more Lakota aspire to become teachers. He talked about the importance of humility when coming from a place of privilege, being able to put aside one's own agenda and listen and learn from those you are working with. He talked about the complexity of the relationship between the tribe and the federal government, and the need for thought and care.
It was an organic high point to a unit that had been spent wrestling with complicated issues.
I would not have been able to teach my students what my brother taught them--I could lay the groundwork and guide the discussions along the way, but I have never lived or worked in a situation like the one on the Pine Ridge Reservation. I needed somebody who had.
Herein lies the power of communication technology in the classroom: the act of Skyping with someone on the other side of the world, in and of itself, is fascinating and personally enriching, but it may not have inherent value to the curriculum. However, if teachers are able to discern when and where an expert's perspective, or a first-hand perspective will complete the picture the teacher is trying to create in the unit, they ought to consider whether or not they know anybody who can provide that perspective.
Ideally, teachers will look for ways to make new connections and build a portfolio of human resources, but that is not where we need to start. We need to start by thinking through the connections we already have, whether near or far, and then taking steps to make the world just a little bit smaller.
Several years ago, I read Curriculum 21 by Heidi Hayes Jacobs for a Master's course. Jacobs puts forth a compelling vision of what education ought to look like in the 21st century, and describes what various schools and teachers are currently doing to make that vision a reality. Naturally, technology featured prominently in several chapters, including the recommendation that communication technology be used to connect students with other people around the world.
I wonder how many of us have connections we simply haven't recognized. Several years ago, while my brother was teaching high school math on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation through Teach For America, I had the idea to have him talk to my students on Google's video chat. I hooked my laptop up to the projector, and he joined our class for 40 minutes to talk about his experiences. In a curricular sense, the activity was an after-thought. I hadn't prepped my students, and did not have a clear theme in the unit that I was teaching, other than "Native Americans have had it rough". Fun as it was to bring my brother into my classroom from halfway around the world, I missed opportunity after opportunity to really make his virtual visit count.
We did it again the next year, and even had the opportunity to talk to several of his students, who were as curious to talk to a class full of international school students in Japan as my students were to talk to Lakota students in South Dakota. That opportunity made the experience more meaningful than the year before, but again, the idea lacked sound curricular context.
After that year, my brother's contract with Teach for America wrapped up, and he embarked on his Master's degree. I didn't think to utilize his knowledge and experiences again for a couple years.
This year, as my brother began to apply to law schools, having finished his Master's degree, he told me that one direction he was considering was to study Native American policy. His time living and working with the Lakota people had profoundly impacted him, and it was clear that the plight of Native Americans today was still very much on his mind and heart. Everything clicked into place in that instant. In the two years since I had last invited him to talk to my students, I had developed a unit exploring issues connected to Agency and Victimhood, and it occurred to me that my brother would have keen insights into what agency does and does not look like for Native Americans today.
I was already planning to have my students examine slavery and women's suffrage as case-studies in this unit, and from there it was not too much work to carve out time for the historical and contemporary issues facing Native Americans as a third case study. I had my students research and present on Lakota history, culture, boarding schools/assimilation efforts, contemporary social issues, political structure and modern day activism. They presented in groups on Monday, and my brother talked to the students on Tuesday.
This was far more interactive than the previous conversations had been. My brother started by briefly describing what he did during his two years on the reservation, but after that, the floor was open for my students to ask questions. One student asked whether the government's heavy involvement was hindering the Lakota from improving their situation. Another student asked whether or not it was right for the people to resist the government. Another student asked what my brother thought the first step needed to be to effect real change.
The discussion was steeped in the thinking my students had done on agency leading up to this point, and this lent all the more weight to my brother talking about how his goal was essentially to teach himself out of a job, to see more Lakota aspire to become teachers. He talked about the importance of humility when coming from a place of privilege, being able to put aside one's own agenda and listen and learn from those you are working with. He talked about the complexity of the relationship between the tribe and the federal government, and the need for thought and care.
It was an organic high point to a unit that had been spent wrestling with complicated issues.
I would not have been able to teach my students what my brother taught them--I could lay the groundwork and guide the discussions along the way, but I have never lived or worked in a situation like the one on the Pine Ridge Reservation. I needed somebody who had.
Herein lies the power of communication technology in the classroom: the act of Skyping with someone on the other side of the world, in and of itself, is fascinating and personally enriching, but it may not have inherent value to the curriculum. However, if teachers are able to discern when and where an expert's perspective, or a first-hand perspective will complete the picture the teacher is trying to create in the unit, they ought to consider whether or not they know anybody who can provide that perspective.
Ideally, teachers will look for ways to make new connections and build a portfolio of human resources, but that is not where we need to start. We need to start by thinking through the connections we already have, whether near or far, and then taking steps to make the world just a little bit smaller.
Thursday, January 19, 2017
Semester's End
Today was the last day of our first semester--the midway point of the school-year. The past month has been busy, and I have not found as much time to blog with a seemingly unending stream of grading to do on the weekends.
In spite of the busyness, there's much to celebrate:
I. Excellent Class Discussions
My Humanities classes are now over halfway through Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl. For the third year, I have asked the students to come to class prepared for seminar style discussions over the chapters assigned for that day. Each day a pair or small group of students are responsible for facilitating the discussion. I told the students before the first discussion that I would not get involved myself, unless somebody has a point of confusion that their classmates cannot answer, in which case, they may ask me to say something. Otherwise, I get to sit back and take notes on the discussion, keeping a record of who contributed, and what was said. The first year I had the students do this style of discussion on Incidents, one of my classes got into it, which made me feel that it was a worthwhile activity. However, not every class, and not every discussion have gone so well... until this year. I have two sections of Humanities. One is large at 23 students, and has many energetic, talkative personalities. The other is small at 12 students, and has many calm, quiet personalities. Over the course of the daily discussions we have had this week, both sections have impressed me with perhaps the highest caliber of discussion I have heard in my teaching career. A few particular things that impressed me:
-Everyone has their books open and is using direct quotes from the text to support their claims. The students are engaging directly with the text.
-"Adding to what (so-and-so) said,": Students are really listening to the thread of the discussion, and are not just tuning in to get their contribution credit before tuning out. They are actively paying attention to what their classmates are saying, and are trying to build on what has already come up.
-"I really didn't get...": This has only come up a few times, but it's come up more than past years. More students are willing to admit that they did not understand a particular scene or development in the plot, and ask for clarification. Often, they find out that other classmates were confused by the same thing, but hadn't wanted to speak up.
-"This reminds me of something we talked about in (other unit)": Students are making connections to previous units in Humanities class, calling back to discussions about such topics as world-views and rhetorical appeals.
-"This reminds me of something we talked about in (other class)": This has been fun--students are making connections between the themes in Incidents, and topics they have studied in Bible and Psychology class!
-On Tuesday, my small class paused their discussion of the plot to talk at length about the theology of slavery, wrestling with how slaveholders could justify their treatment of slaves from a Biblical perspective. On that same day, my bigger class drew a parallel between Incidents and Night, by Elie Wiesel, which they had read the previous year in English 10. I'd noticed that parallel before, too, but one of the students brought up an insight I hadn't thought about: "It's interesting how Elie Wiesel's sufferings caused him to question God's existence, while Linda's sufferings seemed to strengthen her faith in God." That left me thinking, which is always a surprise when teaching a book I have read through and taught so many times.
II. Silent Sustained Reading
This semester, I set aside a day each week on which my students would go to the library and read. I asked that the students have at least one book discussion with me at some point during the semester. While I did have a handful of students wait until this week to do their book discussions, the number was far smaller than usual, and the discussions were more substantive. Did every student use every reading day well? No. However, as I listened to each student tell me about what they had read, it became readily apparent to me that more students had read the books they said they would read, and moreover, that more students had enjoyed what they read. The highlight was a book-talk with one boy who described himself as a non-reader. For the sake of his privacy, as I know that students occasionally read my blog, I won't mention the book that he read, as that might give away his identity. I open every book-talk by asking for a basic synopsis of the book, and often the students spend a minute or two talking me through the plot in a nutshell. This student talked for 15 minutes straight, and by the end I felt like I knew the whole story inside and out. It was fun to listen to him retell the story, and as he did so, he would realize he'd left out an important detail about the setting or the characters and then back up and fill me in on the part he'd forgotten before moving on. He was pretty into it. While he talked, I looked up the author on our library's online catalog and found out that we have at least five other books by this author in our library. He hadn't realized this, and seemed excited when I told him. I hope he keeps reading! All it takes is one book to spark a love for reading. I wonder how many other students found that book this semester?
There's more to celebrate, and plenty more to look forward to, but time is ticking and I have grading to do, so I'll wrap up this post.
All in all, it was a good semester, and I'm looking forward to the semester ahead. I hope to keep up with my blogging even after the baby arrives (just 5 more weeks!)--ironically, reflection time seems to only become more important, the busier we get.
In spite of the busyness, there's much to celebrate:
I. Excellent Class Discussions
My Humanities classes are now over halfway through Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl. For the third year, I have asked the students to come to class prepared for seminar style discussions over the chapters assigned for that day. Each day a pair or small group of students are responsible for facilitating the discussion. I told the students before the first discussion that I would not get involved myself, unless somebody has a point of confusion that their classmates cannot answer, in which case, they may ask me to say something. Otherwise, I get to sit back and take notes on the discussion, keeping a record of who contributed, and what was said. The first year I had the students do this style of discussion on Incidents, one of my classes got into it, which made me feel that it was a worthwhile activity. However, not every class, and not every discussion have gone so well... until this year. I have two sections of Humanities. One is large at 23 students, and has many energetic, talkative personalities. The other is small at 12 students, and has many calm, quiet personalities. Over the course of the daily discussions we have had this week, both sections have impressed me with perhaps the highest caliber of discussion I have heard in my teaching career. A few particular things that impressed me:
-Everyone has their books open and is using direct quotes from the text to support their claims. The students are engaging directly with the text.
-"Adding to what (so-and-so) said,": Students are really listening to the thread of the discussion, and are not just tuning in to get their contribution credit before tuning out. They are actively paying attention to what their classmates are saying, and are trying to build on what has already come up.
-"I really didn't get...": This has only come up a few times, but it's come up more than past years. More students are willing to admit that they did not understand a particular scene or development in the plot, and ask for clarification. Often, they find out that other classmates were confused by the same thing, but hadn't wanted to speak up.
-"This reminds me of something we talked about in (other unit)": Students are making connections to previous units in Humanities class, calling back to discussions about such topics as world-views and rhetorical appeals.
-"This reminds me of something we talked about in (other class)": This has been fun--students are making connections between the themes in Incidents, and topics they have studied in Bible and Psychology class!
-On Tuesday, my small class paused their discussion of the plot to talk at length about the theology of slavery, wrestling with how slaveholders could justify their treatment of slaves from a Biblical perspective. On that same day, my bigger class drew a parallel between Incidents and Night, by Elie Wiesel, which they had read the previous year in English 10. I'd noticed that parallel before, too, but one of the students brought up an insight I hadn't thought about: "It's interesting how Elie Wiesel's sufferings caused him to question God's existence, while Linda's sufferings seemed to strengthen her faith in God." That left me thinking, which is always a surprise when teaching a book I have read through and taught so many times.
II. Silent Sustained Reading
This semester, I set aside a day each week on which my students would go to the library and read. I asked that the students have at least one book discussion with me at some point during the semester. While I did have a handful of students wait until this week to do their book discussions, the number was far smaller than usual, and the discussions were more substantive. Did every student use every reading day well? No. However, as I listened to each student tell me about what they had read, it became readily apparent to me that more students had read the books they said they would read, and moreover, that more students had enjoyed what they read. The highlight was a book-talk with one boy who described himself as a non-reader. For the sake of his privacy, as I know that students occasionally read my blog, I won't mention the book that he read, as that might give away his identity. I open every book-talk by asking for a basic synopsis of the book, and often the students spend a minute or two talking me through the plot in a nutshell. This student talked for 15 minutes straight, and by the end I felt like I knew the whole story inside and out. It was fun to listen to him retell the story, and as he did so, he would realize he'd left out an important detail about the setting or the characters and then back up and fill me in on the part he'd forgotten before moving on. He was pretty into it. While he talked, I looked up the author on our library's online catalog and found out that we have at least five other books by this author in our library. He hadn't realized this, and seemed excited when I told him. I hope he keeps reading! All it takes is one book to spark a love for reading. I wonder how many other students found that book this semester?
There's more to celebrate, and plenty more to look forward to, but time is ticking and I have grading to do, so I'll wrap up this post.
All in all, it was a good semester, and I'm looking forward to the semester ahead. I hope to keep up with my blogging even after the baby arrives (just 5 more weeks!)--ironically, reflection time seems to only become more important, the busier we get.
Friday, December 9, 2016
Modeling Critical Reading
Critical reading is a skill developed over the course of years; a school-career, in fact. For some students, the holy grail of reading comprehension is a '5' on the AP English exam, an exam for which 45% of the score is determined by a multiple choice reading test. I don't know that I have ever had a student who has scored perfectly on the multiple choice section, but I do know that there are one or two in every class who come close. These students all share a key trait in common: they are always--without exception--voracious readers, and have been since elementary school.
These are students who read a variety of material outside of class--not only young adult novels, but also classic works; not only fiction, but also books and articles about politics, economics, science, or math.
These are students who question and seek to verify what their teachers say in class, who will look up claims, studies, or books mentioned by their teachers, sometimes even on the spot, on their laptops.
These are students who know what it is to read something deeply, to struggle tirelessly for understanding, and who have the stamina and resiliency to parse through peer-reviewed studies and scholarly articles when doing research projects, or preparing for debates.
I don't really prepare them for the reading on the AP exam; they're already prepared, and likely have been for a while. Their skills are the accumulation of years of reading for fun, coupled with years of reading to learn (a distinction which has blended with time). What began as a love for reading has developed into a particular way of thinking and approaching the world, and they are the richer for it.
As their AP teacher, I simply provide them with practice tests that signal to them the type of reading that they will need to undertake on the AP exam, and which inevitably affirm that they will achieve a high score on the actual test.
What about students who enjoy reading, but feel they do not have the time to read independently? Or, students who have never enjoyed reading, but are hard workers?
I contend that if students are not reading on their own (that is, outside of class), and have not been reading on their own for the majority of their school careers, they come into AP test preparation at a distinct disadvantage. They have had neither the practice, nor exposure to variety that their voracious reader classmates have had. They have not built up the stamina or ingrained the critical reading skills second nature to their classmates who are regularly reading challenging texts. These students may be high-achievers--they may work hard and attain top grades. They may be bright and intelligent and talented in a variety of other areas. What is missing is the breadth and depth of independent reading over the years that a select few of their classmates have had.
Last week, I had a group of students approach me, asking for more support on their reading comprehension. I was caught off-guard; I've never had students ask for more help on reading before, and frankly, I have not done much in the way of specifically teaching critical reading skills to my AP students. My unspoken mentality has been "either you've got it by now, or you don't", and I've opted to put 90% of my teaching energy into developing their writing skills instead.
However, when this group of students approached me, the ball was in my court--the question before me was "can I equip these students with the skills and habit of mind necessary to succeed on the AP test?"
Honestly, I don't think so--with any kind of standardized test, there are far too many independent variables to guarantee a certain score: how the student is feeling on the day of the test; whether they slept well the night before; whether they have interest or background knowledge in the passages they read; whether they suffer from test anxiety; whether the questions ask about literary terms or concepts I did not anticipate. Even subtracting independent variables, could any amount of effort or creative teaching on my part substitute for years of independent reading practice? No, I cannot guarantee a high score on the AP exam.
However, what I decided I can do is try to train my students to deepen their critical reading ability, and I whole-heartedly believe that time spent on this endeavor cannot hurt, only help. Moreover, critical reading is a skill far more important than the judgment issued by the CollegeBoard. It is a life-skill that will prepare my students to be stronger thinkers and consumers of information.
I decided that the place to start was to model critical thinking while reading. I invited any AP students who were interested to a meeting during lunch yesterday. 15 out of my 29 AP students showed up!
I borrowed an idea I found in "Teaching Arguments: Rhetorical Comprehension, Critique, and Response" by Jennifer Fletcher: having the students fill out a checklist while I did a think-aloud.
I chose a fairly engaging, recent piece to read through: "A Confession of Liberal Intolerance" by Nicholas Kristof. I printed copies for each of the students, but also projected the article onto my whiteboard. I then distributed a checklist of critical reading actions that I wanted the students to watch for while I read and thought out loud.
Before I started reading, I even wondered aloud what the title, date, and author might tell me about the piece. I then began to read, one or two paragraphs at a time. I would pause regularly and comment or ask questions. I would critique or praise Kristof's use of studies to support his point; wonder about the quality of his sources; highlight his writing strategies--analogies, use of anaphora, etc.
In 20 minutes, I only made it halfway through the article. When I asked the students how I'd done on their checklists, they told me I'd done everything except disagree with Kristof. The students seemed to appreciate the activity and several thanked me afterwards. I told them I'd try to model thinking aloud again using a more challenging piece by Henry David Thoreau after Christmas, and then have them practice thinking aloud together in groups.
It was fun to do the think-aloud; I'd read the article when it was published back in May, so I knew generally what Kristof had said, but I hadn't prepared what I was going to say for the think-aloud, as I wanted it to be spontaneous. I actually picked up on some new aspects I'd missed the first time around, and even appreciated Kristof's writing more as I verbally worked through the article.
I may not be able to prepare my students to internalize these skills to the extent that they can apply them effortlessly while reading passages quickly on the AP exam, but if I can help them to dialogue with the author as they read, if I can help them to think and ask questions as they engage with a text, I can sleep well at night.
I wish I'd thought to do this sooner--I am definitely going to do this type of modeling more in the future!
These are students who read a variety of material outside of class--not only young adult novels, but also classic works; not only fiction, but also books and articles about politics, economics, science, or math.
These are students who question and seek to verify what their teachers say in class, who will look up claims, studies, or books mentioned by their teachers, sometimes even on the spot, on their laptops.
These are students who know what it is to read something deeply, to struggle tirelessly for understanding, and who have the stamina and resiliency to parse through peer-reviewed studies and scholarly articles when doing research projects, or preparing for debates.
I don't really prepare them for the reading on the AP exam; they're already prepared, and likely have been for a while. Their skills are the accumulation of years of reading for fun, coupled with years of reading to learn (a distinction which has blended with time). What began as a love for reading has developed into a particular way of thinking and approaching the world, and they are the richer for it.
As their AP teacher, I simply provide them with practice tests that signal to them the type of reading that they will need to undertake on the AP exam, and which inevitably affirm that they will achieve a high score on the actual test.
What about students who enjoy reading, but feel they do not have the time to read independently? Or, students who have never enjoyed reading, but are hard workers?
I contend that if students are not reading on their own (that is, outside of class), and have not been reading on their own for the majority of their school careers, they come into AP test preparation at a distinct disadvantage. They have had neither the practice, nor exposure to variety that their voracious reader classmates have had. They have not built up the stamina or ingrained the critical reading skills second nature to their classmates who are regularly reading challenging texts. These students may be high-achievers--they may work hard and attain top grades. They may be bright and intelligent and talented in a variety of other areas. What is missing is the breadth and depth of independent reading over the years that a select few of their classmates have had.
Last week, I had a group of students approach me, asking for more support on their reading comprehension. I was caught off-guard; I've never had students ask for more help on reading before, and frankly, I have not done much in the way of specifically teaching critical reading skills to my AP students. My unspoken mentality has been "either you've got it by now, or you don't", and I've opted to put 90% of my teaching energy into developing their writing skills instead.
However, when this group of students approached me, the ball was in my court--the question before me was "can I equip these students with the skills and habit of mind necessary to succeed on the AP test?"
Honestly, I don't think so--with any kind of standardized test, there are far too many independent variables to guarantee a certain score: how the student is feeling on the day of the test; whether they slept well the night before; whether they have interest or background knowledge in the passages they read; whether they suffer from test anxiety; whether the questions ask about literary terms or concepts I did not anticipate. Even subtracting independent variables, could any amount of effort or creative teaching on my part substitute for years of independent reading practice? No, I cannot guarantee a high score on the AP exam.
However, what I decided I can do is try to train my students to deepen their critical reading ability, and I whole-heartedly believe that time spent on this endeavor cannot hurt, only help. Moreover, critical reading is a skill far more important than the judgment issued by the CollegeBoard. It is a life-skill that will prepare my students to be stronger thinkers and consumers of information.
I decided that the place to start was to model critical thinking while reading. I invited any AP students who were interested to a meeting during lunch yesterday. 15 out of my 29 AP students showed up!
I borrowed an idea I found in "Teaching Arguments: Rhetorical Comprehension, Critique, and Response" by Jennifer Fletcher: having the students fill out a checklist while I did a think-aloud.
Before I started reading, I even wondered aloud what the title, date, and author might tell me about the piece. I then began to read, one or two paragraphs at a time. I would pause regularly and comment or ask questions. I would critique or praise Kristof's use of studies to support his point; wonder about the quality of his sources; highlight his writing strategies--analogies, use of anaphora, etc.
In 20 minutes, I only made it halfway through the article. When I asked the students how I'd done on their checklists, they told me I'd done everything except disagree with Kristof. The students seemed to appreciate the activity and several thanked me afterwards. I told them I'd try to model thinking aloud again using a more challenging piece by Henry David Thoreau after Christmas, and then have them practice thinking aloud together in groups.
It was fun to do the think-aloud; I'd read the article when it was published back in May, so I knew generally what Kristof had said, but I hadn't prepared what I was going to say for the think-aloud, as I wanted it to be spontaneous. I actually picked up on some new aspects I'd missed the first time around, and even appreciated Kristof's writing more as I verbally worked through the article.
I may not be able to prepare my students to internalize these skills to the extent that they can apply them effortlessly while reading passages quickly on the AP exam, but if I can help them to dialogue with the author as they read, if I can help them to think and ask questions as they engage with a text, I can sleep well at night.
I wish I'd thought to do this sooner--I am definitely going to do this type of modeling more in the future!
Friday, December 2, 2016
Mid-year Revelations: Exciting, but Frustrating
First, an apology: getting sick in early November and missing two days of school set me back on both grading and prep, and it has been a scramble to get caught up. Sadly, my weekly time for reflection was one casualty of this mad scramble.
This month, I have been teaching my unit on Worldview. In previous years, I'd taught this unit in the Spring, but I opted to move it to the fall this time, as I felt like it was too foundational to put off until the end of the year.
I enjoy this unit--we trace the literary movements that have occurred throughout America's history--Romanticism (both Gothic and Transcendentalism), to Realism and Naturalism, to Modernism, while considering the underlying shifts in Worldview, and the implications of all of this on culture and society. There's something fun in contrasting these movements one after another, and perhaps there's some benefit to organizing it this way.
However, as the unit went on, I couldn't help but feel like we were moving too quickly through each movement, each worldview, without much time to savor the poetry, art and literature we were examining, or to really chew on each perspective on humanity, God or nature. Why rush? So that I would be able to wrap up the unit before Christmas, and not have to worry about trying to awkwardly pick up again after Christmas vacation. Moreover, I kept spotting connections to other units that I'd previously overlooked. Case in point, as we talked about existentialism this week, I realized that naturalism and existentialism are ultimately at the heart of our unit on Agency & Victimhood. Three years of teaching these units, and this was the first time I'd made that connection. It was both an A-HA! moment as well as an OH-SHOOT! moment: A-HA! because it's exciting to learn something new, and make deeper connections within the subject I teach, and OH-SHOOT! because in that moment, I could see so clearly how I should've organized my units, just too late.
What if I integrated the examination of worldview into my existing units?
I would lose the rapid side-by-side comparison. As I mentioned above, there is something fascinating about watching the pendulum swing to and fro when watching history unfold at fast-forward pace.
What would I gain, though?
I would gain time to mull. To chew. To savor. To reflect. Instead of a whirlwind tour, we'd be able to dig deep and spend considerable time with each perspective.
Moreover, we'd be able to make stronger connections to our major class theme about becoming people of justice, present in every other unit. My worldview unit was always the odd-one-out. I considered it foundational and therefore vital, and worldview does indeed have incalculable bearing on how we pursue justice (and perhaps even how we define justice)... we just never had the time to explore those connections in any sort of depth when our study of worldview was organized as a single-unit survey.
All is not lost. I have a new angle to use as I prepare to teach my unit on Agency and Victimhood in January, and the students will have a point of reference that they wouldn't have had otherwise. That's exciting.
Still, I'm looking forward to sitting down with my curriculum at length over Christmas and especially next Summer, taking the hood off and engine out for a tune-up.
I wish I'd noticed this while I was working on curriculum this past summer, but I suppose it's these mid-year revelations that drive teaching forward! I'll choose to be grateful.
This month, I have been teaching my unit on Worldview. In previous years, I'd taught this unit in the Spring, but I opted to move it to the fall this time, as I felt like it was too foundational to put off until the end of the year.
I enjoy this unit--we trace the literary movements that have occurred throughout America's history--Romanticism (both Gothic and Transcendentalism), to Realism and Naturalism, to Modernism, while considering the underlying shifts in Worldview, and the implications of all of this on culture and society. There's something fun in contrasting these movements one after another, and perhaps there's some benefit to organizing it this way.
However, as the unit went on, I couldn't help but feel like we were moving too quickly through each movement, each worldview, without much time to savor the poetry, art and literature we were examining, or to really chew on each perspective on humanity, God or nature. Why rush? So that I would be able to wrap up the unit before Christmas, and not have to worry about trying to awkwardly pick up again after Christmas vacation. Moreover, I kept spotting connections to other units that I'd previously overlooked. Case in point, as we talked about existentialism this week, I realized that naturalism and existentialism are ultimately at the heart of our unit on Agency & Victimhood. Three years of teaching these units, and this was the first time I'd made that connection. It was both an A-HA! moment as well as an OH-SHOOT! moment: A-HA! because it's exciting to learn something new, and make deeper connections within the subject I teach, and OH-SHOOT! because in that moment, I could see so clearly how I should've organized my units, just too late.
What if I integrated the examination of worldview into my existing units?
I would lose the rapid side-by-side comparison. As I mentioned above, there is something fascinating about watching the pendulum swing to and fro when watching history unfold at fast-forward pace.
What would I gain, though?
I would gain time to mull. To chew. To savor. To reflect. Instead of a whirlwind tour, we'd be able to dig deep and spend considerable time with each perspective.
Moreover, we'd be able to make stronger connections to our major class theme about becoming people of justice, present in every other unit. My worldview unit was always the odd-one-out. I considered it foundational and therefore vital, and worldview does indeed have incalculable bearing on how we pursue justice (and perhaps even how we define justice)... we just never had the time to explore those connections in any sort of depth when our study of worldview was organized as a single-unit survey.
All is not lost. I have a new angle to use as I prepare to teach my unit on Agency and Victimhood in January, and the students will have a point of reference that they wouldn't have had otherwise. That's exciting.
Still, I'm looking forward to sitting down with my curriculum at length over Christmas and especially next Summer, taking the hood off and engine out for a tune-up.
I wish I'd noticed this while I was working on curriculum this past summer, but I suppose it's these mid-year revelations that drive teaching forward! I'll choose to be grateful.
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