Friday, August 25, 2017

Opening Day Activity

How do you use your time when the first day of class is a half day, and each class only lasts for 25 minutes apiece?

For most teachers, that is just enough time to talk through the syllabus and field questions.

This is often the first time in the year, of many, that I feel so fortunate to have the students for two periods a day.  25 minutes may not be much time, but 50 minutes allows for more flexibility.

This year, for the first time, I tried an activity instead of just talking at the students about the importance of our class theme.

I posted six images around the room: a photo of four hands, each gripping another around the wrist; an equal sign; a shot of the barricades from Les Miserables; a drawing of Lady Justice holding up her scales; a photo of a Black Lives Matter rally; and a clip-art of a stick figure in a jail cell, behind bars.




When the bell rang, without any other sort of introduction or fanfare, I instructed the students to walk around the room and look at each of the images.  As they took in each image, I asked them to think about which image most closely matched their understanding of the word "justice".

After deciding, I asked the students to spend five minutes journaling on scrap paper I'd distributed, stating which image they chose and why.

After five minutes, I asked the students to stand by the image they had chosen.

In both sections, there was at least one student standing at every image, though some had larger groups crowded around them than others.  The students then needed to find someone who had chosen a different image from them, share their reasoning and hear the reasoning of their classmate for why they had chosen the images they did.

When the students had shared and returned to their seats, I briefly explained the point of the exercise.  We today hear the terms "justice" and "injustice" almost constantly.  We hear them in the media, used by politicians, used in movies and TV shows, and the challenge is, the terms seem to have very different meanings depending on the setting.

Is justice unity?  Is justice equality?  Is justice revolution?  Is justice law?  Is justice activism?  Is justice punishment?

I neither praised nor condemned the definition of justice implied in each image, but simply pointed out that these definitions are all around us, and that whether or not we are aware of it, they shape how we view (and attempt to pursue) justice.

We also hear a lot about justice in Scripture.  In Generous Justice, Tim Keller states that some form of the Hebrew word for justice, "mishpat", occurs more than two hundred times throughout the Old Testament.  If we are to take Scripture's repeated call to do justice seriously, with the ultimate goal of "serving Japan and the world for Christ" (as CAJ's mission statement reads), we absolutely need to have a good grasp on what Scriptural justice means.  Each of those images reflect a cultural definition of justice, and while each has elements of truth to be found, none of them tells the complete story, and if each becomes an idol unto themselves, they can actually cause quite a lot of damage.

Justice is a rich and complex subject, worthy of a year's worth of study and time in class.  Moreover, we need to understand that those who we work with as we pursue justice in the future may have a completely different operational definition of justice from us, and we need to know how this may affect our pursuit of justice--how to find common ground while also holding firm to truth.

Next week, we will start reading chapters from Steve Monsma's Healing for a Broken World and Tim Keller's Generous Justice, which taken together present us with a thoughtful, Scriptural definition of justice.  Monsma defines justice as protecting that which is due to others as bearers of God's image.  Keller connects this act with mercy and generosity on a basic and intimate level.

My hope is that by having examined their own impressions about justice, the students will be in a better position to engage with these readings and think through the implications of a rich, textured, Scripturally-based definition of justice.

This activity and the follow-up took about 20 minutes.

I spent the second half of the class introducing myself in a way that has become a tradition six years running, by telling the tragic (but also humorous) story of my attempts to raise ducks when I was in elementary school.

If you haven't heard the story, ask me some time.

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

The Coming School year in Numbers

Over the past two weeks, I have put in about 60 hours of intensive planning and preparation for the coming school year (and yes, most of those were spent at Tully's).

This seems to have been the magic number--over the past few days in particular, I'm feeling more and more ready for classes to start so that I can test out the revisions I've made to my curriculum; to put my plans into action.

Tonight, I couldn't help but think about some of the other numbers which the coming year represents:

This will be my...

  • 10th school year at CAJ (I came halfway through the year in January 2009), which in turn means it will be my...
    • 10th time to advise a community group, and my...
    • 10th time to watch a Senior Talent Show, and my...
    • 10th CAJ graduation, and my...
    • 17th time to attend Thrift Shop at CAJ this October (my 18th time next April)


    This will also be my...
    • 9th full year of teaching.
    • 8th year teaching 11th Grade Humanities and AP English.
    • 8th time to go on the 11th Grade Wilderness Camp.
    • 3rd school-year as a department chair, and member of the Research & Development Team
    • 2nd full school-year after finishing my Master's.
    • 4th season to co-coach debate.
    • 4th full school-year as a married man.
    • 1st full school-year as a daddy. 

    By the end of this year, I will have taught somewhere between 450 and 500 CAJ students in the course of my career so far, and will have clocked about 5,400 hours in the classroom. 

    That number is a very rough estimate, and only includes class periods.  It does not include the prep and grading I have done during the school-year, or the planning and curriculum work I have done each summer (I'm not sure how I'd even go about calculating that!).

    One week from tomorrow, the students will come back to campus for book check-outs, fire-drills and class mixer games.  Summer will officially be over.  While this summer felt like it went by more quickly than usual, I can confidently and enthusiastically say I'm ready for school to start up again.

    Year number ten, here we go!

    Here's my tentative weekly schedule for my Humanities class.  After writing my previous blog-post, I had the brainstorm to divvy up and spread out the news circle and reading times throughout the week, favoring a more varied agenda each day compared to what I'd originally planned. 

    Friday, August 4, 2017

    The Challenges & Opportunities of a Two-Period Class

    One of the greatest blessings of my teaching career has been the flexibility to teach U.S. History and American Literature as a two-period Humanities block, instead of teaching them as separate subjects.

    The challenge is to use that time wisely; to make the most of it; to ensure that there's a rhyme and reason to the way in which the time is allotted.

    Sometimes, it makes sense to have several completely different activities in a single day, for the sake of variety.  Other times, it makes sense to focus on completing one single lesson.  I've long-since learned that two full periods of lecture (heck, even one full period of lecture) is not a good use of the time available to me.  Even within a single lesson, there needs to be some level of variety.  The two periods a day are a gift, and this summer, I want to be more intentional about structuring the time as best I can.

    My schedule for the coming year looks like this:

    1st period: Prep
    2nd period: Prep
    3rd period: Humanities A
    4th period: Humanities B
    5th period: Humanities B
    6th period: Humanities A
    7th period: Prep

    To clarify, it's the same group of students 3rd and 6th period, and the same group of students 4th and 5th period. The Humanities A group doesn't quite get a block class in the way that the Humanities B group does, but scheduling has its limits.  It worked fine last year, so I'm not worried!

    Here are a few things I have been thinking about as I have planned this week, including something I tried last year, and a few new things I'd like to try this year!

    Something I tried last year:
    Last year, for the first time, I set aside one class period each week for silent, sustained reading.  I did this every Friday, during 5th period for one of my Humanities sections, and 6th period for the other.  While there was something I really liked about ending the week with quiet reading time, it did mean that Friday basically became a one-period day, and regardless of what we were working on during 3rd or 4th period, respectively, we'd drop what we were doing and head down to the library for our weekly reading time.

    Meanwhile, due to the late-start schedule each Wednesday, the fact that Wednesday classes are only 35 minutes long, and the fact that 4th and 5th period are separated by lunch that day, Wednesdays always felt a little too choppy; a little too start-and-stop to carry on a single lesson through both periods.

    My idea for Wednesdays this year:
    3rd and 4th period will serve as a weekly news circle--students will come prepared to discuss current events from different regions in the world in order to stay informed about global issues.  This was something I was planning to try anyway, and it just happened that Wednesday emerged as the natural day for it!

    5th and 6th period will serve as our silent, sustained reading time, just as they had been on Fridays last year.  While this means that I will lose the relaxing feeling of closing out the school-week with reading time, this shift will make Wednesdays far more worthwhile than they ever were in the past.

    Plus, this will give the students a weekly routine--something they can count on every week.

    Another routine I want to try out:
    Rhetoric has been a big part of my curriculum, at least on paper.  In practice, however, teaching rhetorical analysis skills has tended to take a back-seat to my unit themes and understandings.  Plus, it has always felt forced and awkward to try and include a different rhetorical analysis skill in each unit map, and justify why that skill fit with the themes and focus of that particular unit.  To remedy this, I'm creating an ongoing year-long unit dedicated entirely to rhetoric, to helping the students grow as critical consumers and effective communicators.  I am planning to set aside at least one period each Monday, at the start of the week, to teaching and practicing rhetorical analysis skills.  While each rhetoric lesson will be distinct from the unit we are studying in class at any given time, we will look for ways to use readings and materials based on the themes we are studying as we practice and apply rhetorical analysis skills.

    This leaves me with Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays for substantive lessons that will take advantage of the two-period arrangement.  I am going to try to plan each lesson more consciously around the 90-100 minutes I will have on those days to make sure all of that time is well used.

    Three days each week may not sound like a lot of time, but this will force me to focus my curriculum more than I have in the past--to make sure my lessons are concise and easy to follow, and that they are accomplishing what I want them to accomplish.

    It may be that I'll emerge on the other side of this school year resolved never to try this again, but the only way I can grow as a teacher is to be willing to try new things!


    Saturday, July 15, 2017

    Grinding the Lens: Developing My Perspective and Pedagogy of Justice

    My professional summer reading started with two books that had nothing to do with teaching at face value, and yet upon finishing them, I find myself with a much clearer sense of purpose as I set in on my annual curriculum revisions.

    Healing for a Broken World: Christian Perspectives on Public Policy by Steve Monsma, and Generous Justice: How God's Grace Makes Us Just by Tim Keller functioned as complementary texts, which taken together, helped me to develop a more solid theological framework for understanding justice, as well as a more solid framework for teaching my students about justice.

    In Generous Justice, Keller offers a sound Biblical defense for the importance of social justice, one which is intertwined with (rather than separate from, or opposed to) an evangelical outlook.  Keller acknowledges in his introduction that many orthodox Christians have resisted earnest discussion about social justice due to the way in which the term has been politicized, perhaps even dismissing it out of a perceived connection to a broader decay in doctrinal soundness in particular, and societal morality at large.  Keller does not deny that popular perspectives on social justice are problematic, but is emphatic in his contention that Christians simply must have a heart for social justice, in fact, that a true understanding of grace will inevitably lead to a life spent pursuing social justice.

    In Chapter One, Keller explores the definition of justice as it appears in the Bible, and particularly the link between "chesedh" (mercy), "mishpat" (justice), and "tzadeqah" (righteousness).  In Chapter Two, he examines the role of justice throughout the Old Testament, and the abiding validity that laws of release, gleaning, and jubilee can and should have on our social consciousness today.  Keller demonstrates in Chapter Three that justice is not merely an Old Testament concern, and examines how Jesus' life and ministry fulfilled and clarified Old Testament teachings about justice.  Chapter Four focuses in on the parable of the Good Samaritan, considering "who is our neighbor", and drawing extensively from Jonathan Edwards' commentary in responding to common objections/excuses for not helping the poor.  Chapter Five asks why Christians ought to have a heart for justice.  Keller touches on the human dignity due each person as image-bearers, but spends most of the chapter discussing how a genuine understanding of grace and redemption will inevitably result in a lifestyle marked by justice.  Chapter Six deals with how we are called to do justice, looking at different levels of action (relief, development, social reform), the importance of preserving the agency of those in need, and the need for racial reconciliation to ensure diverse leadership in addressing matters of injustice.  Chapter Seven emphasizes the need for Christians to work alongside others who may not share a Christian perspective on justice, in order to see justice done, emphasizing both the importance of empathy and cooperation, as well as the willingness to boldly and firmly bring our Scriptural perspective to the table, to engage rather than avoid conversations about how our faith informs our understanding of justice.  Chapter Eight, the final chapter in the book, connects justice back to shalom--the peace and beauty of the world as God intended it to be.

    As I mentioned earlier, Keller's examination of justice helped to sharpen my own personal framework for understanding justice--what it is, why I should care, and how I should proceed.

    Healing for a Broken World by Steve Monsma offers a practical application of justice to issues in the world today, and therefore serves as a natural companion piece to Keller's more philosophical examination of justice in Generous Justice.

    The first half of Monsma's book digs into key principles for Christians to consider as they seek to do justice.  Chapter One explores some basic traps into which Christians and churches can easily fall, from failing to recognize how cultural, non-Biblical factors can and do shape our perspectives on contemporary issues for better or worse, to the fallacy of equating the United States to Old Testament Israel, to the trap of despair that may set in when we fully grasp the brokenness of the world, along with our own limitations.  The second chapter offers a concise overview of the creation, sin, redemption framework, focusing in on the role that government and its citizens ought to play.  Here again, Monsma warns against the extremes of triumphalism (the idea that we can, by our own efforts and gumption, make the world perfect) and pessimism (the idea that we can't truly change anything for the better).  Chapter Three defines and outlines justice from a Biblical perspective, focusing in particular on the ways in which government may contribute to injustice, either directly or by its inaction.  Monsma also explores what a thoughtful, Scriptural approach to justice ought to look like, revealing it to be much broader than the short-list of moral issues that automatically come to mind for many Christians.  Chapter Four explores solidarity--what loving our neighbors does and does not look like.  Here, Monsma warns against individualism, advocates for a division of labor among and within churches to address problems that "hit closer to home" (in consciousness, if not in geography), and cautions against paternalism, advocating, as Keller does in Generous Justice, for preserving the agency of those being helped.  Chapter Five examines the role that civil society ought to play in pursuing justice--families, churches, non-profit organizations, sports leagues, etc.  He discusses the Kuyperian notion of sphere sovereignty (the idea that each sector of society has its own distinct responsibilities which it, and no other, is best equipped to carry out), and the Catholic notion of subsidiarity (the idea that "social tasks should be performed on the lowest level consistent with a just order and the common good"--in other words, the federal government should not try to do what the state government is best equipped to do, and the state government should not try to do what local governments are best equipped to do, and so on).  Using these principles, Monsma attempts to offer a framework for deciding when an issue in society is best addressed on a policy level, as well as a framework for how the different levels of society can work in tandem to address issues in the world.

    The second half of Monsma's book applies these principles to specific contemporary issues, from church and state issues, to life issues, to poverty, to caring for creation, to violations of human rights, to disease and poverty in Africa, to war and terrorism.  Monsma's perspective, as with Keller's, seems to transcend partisan lines.  Monsma himself served as a political science professor at Calvin College and later Pepperdine, with a decade-long career as a Democratic Michigan state senator in between, but his perspectives, including a nuanced pro-life approach and a thoughtful and active environmental record, defy binary partisan definition.  In every case, Monsma encourages careful and deliberate thought about the role of individuals, communities, churches, local, state and national government in prioritizing and addressing injustice.  I should note that while Monsma is up-front with his own perspectives, he is far more interested in asking questions and encouraging earnest thought in his readers than he is in pushing a specific political agenda.

    Monsma's book is shorter, and while no less valuable than Keller's, it does lend itself more naturally for use in a high school humanities classroom by virtue of its structure and its frequent connections to tangible and pressing world issues.  The second half of the book, with each chapter focusing in on a particular issue, has the feel of a menu--a selection from which students can choose to read about issues that particularly resonate with them, while letting others be.  This is consistent with a point Monsma makes early on, that we as individuals cannot (and should not) try to address every global issue--some will land closer to our hearts than others, and it is these that we are called to address.

    Keller's book was instrumental in "grinding my lens"--deepening and developing my theological framework for justice.  I would certainly recommend the whole book to any students who are interested in the theology of justice, but given the time constraints of the school-year, I plan to use only two chapters (Chapter One: What is Justice? and Chapter Six: How Should We Pursue Justice?) as required classroom readings.  I plan to check out some of the commentaries and writers that Keller cited, and hope to continue to deepen my understanding of justice itself, something that will inevitably come out in my teaching, my conversations with students, and in the feedback I am able to provide.

    Monsma's book, on the other hand, has sharpened my understanding of how I teach about justice on a very practical, structural level.  I think my Humanities curriculum will have a stronger internal sense of logic and sequence having read Monsma's book.  One of my projects for the summer is to re-organize my units to highlight key ideas from Monsma's book more naturally.  Tentatively, this is my unit guide for the coming school-year:

    Unit One: Imago Dei and Human Dignity
    (Setting the foundation, distinguishing between human rights and civil rights, formulating a working definition of justice and how it connects to being image-bearers)

    Unit Two: Triumphalism and Fatalism
    (Exploring the ways in which worldview shapes our understanding and pursuit of justice, and the pitfalls that so many can and have fallen into.)

    Unit Three: Solidarity and Agency
    (Wrestling with what it means to "love our neighbor", the dangers of paternalism and the importance of respecting the dignity and agency of those we are seeking to help)

    Unit Four: Stewardship and Technocracy
    (Recognizing that our calling as stewards is vital, as it has bearing on not only the way we love our neighbors now, but future generations as well.  This unit will also explore some of the unique issues raised by rapidly developing technology in our world today, and what what it means to pursue justice as stewards at a time when so much is changing so fast.)

    Unit Five: Citizenship and Civil Society
    (Reflecting on what it means to be a citizen on a variety of levels, the workings of organizations, communities and governments, and the proper way to pursue lasting, substantive change).

    Unit Six: Becoming People of Justice
    (Tying it all together--articulating a personal plan for pursuing justice and actively debating contemporary policy issues with respect to the principles we've discussed throughout the year).

    To do this, I do not need to reinvent the wheel--I can keep many of my lessons, resources and assessments with fairly minor adjustments.  What will change is my ability to connect each lesson, each activity, each assignment, back to the bigger theme of justice in more substantive ways.

    Now I get to start in on my summer planning in earnest, and I am excited by the clearer sense of direction I have, having finished these books.  To anyone interested in thoughtful Christian perspectives on justice, I cannot recommend both of these books highly enough.  To any teachers looking to develop their own curriculum, what guiding principles can you read up on over the summer to help "grind your lens"?




    Monday, June 26, 2017

    The Humanities Treatise

    Few would argue with the statement that teachers shape the courses they teach, but I would add that this is a reciprocal relationship: the courses shape the teacher, too. Indeed, teaching the 11th Grade Humanities block has profoundly shaped me as a teacher. Combining history and literature has challenged me to recognize that true learning extends beyond a single classroom subject. History and literature are not ends unto themselves, but means to understanding more fundamental themes and truths. This coming year will be my eighth teaching Humanities. Over the past eight years, and through no shortage of trial and error, I have sought out the “fundamental”. However imperfectly, I have molded my curriculum from a disparate collection of ideas and activities that I find interesting, to a cohesive whole with a clear sense of purpose. My biggest breakthrough happened prior to the 2014-15 school-year when I chose “Becoming People of Justice” as my central course theme. With that theme at the core, the past three school-years have been good ones.

    This said, I fully recognize my need to keep developing my curriculum, and to that end, I am writing this treatise to better encapsulate and articulate my goals. Our mission at CAJ is “equipping students to serve Japan and the world for Christ”, a mission which we assess through our Senior Comprehensives. I view myself as the set-up before the serve--the Senior Comprehensive process is as valuable as the level of investment the students bring to it, and I need to make sure they are in the right place to make the most of the experience. To prepare students not only for their Senior Comprehensives, but for life beyond the walls of CAJ, I desire for my students to become critical consumers, effective communicators, and thoughtful problem-solvers who feel a personal responsibility to do justice.

    My goal of critical consumers stems in part from my responsibility to teach AP English: Language and Composition, which emphasizes argument analysis. I never want argument analysis to seem like a purely academic exercise--instead, I hope my students will understand that the news they keep up with, the songs they listen to, the books they read, the movies and TV shows they watch all make an implicit (sometimes explicit) argument for a particular way of seeing the world. Essentially, everything is an argument, and it is vital for students to be aware. They must avoid passivity and resist the temptation to let information wash over them. To this end, my students must be aware of the influences that make up their own worldview, and know how to identify the worldviews at play in the media they encounter. They must strive to put themselves in the shoes of the speaker, author, essayist, director or producer and consider where he or she is coming from.

    Recognizing worldview is only half the battle, though. My students must also be able to dissect the ways in which authors, speakers, etc. structure and support their argument, and the effects of these structural, substantive or stylistic choices. Students must know what constitutes a sound argument, and distinguish between genuine persuasion and manipulation, honesty and dishonesty, truth and fallacy. This will serve them well, of course, in their research for the Senior Comps, but the value extends far beyond school. These skills are particularly critical in our current media landscape, where news is fragmented as never before and the Internet enables people to remain in echo chambers in which bias is presented as objectivity and opinions are presented as facts. In a world where consumers far too easily decry information that doesn’t align with their political beliefs as “fake news”, I want my students to be brave enough to cross no-man’s land, to dare to listen to and evaluate viewpoints other than their own. My hope is not that they will change their minds on every issue, but that they will understand the context, the reasoning and the emotions at play on the other side. Only then, can my students facilitate real dialogue.

    Opening channels for honest discussion will be a vital skill in the coming decades, and such a skill requires effective communicators. While I certainly want my students to hold fast to their values, I also want their first instinct to be to ask questions and listen carefully, rather than talking just to hear themselves talk. This is a skill I strive to impart in both class discussions and debates, and it takes practice. My students also need to have a firm awareness of how they are communicating--what their purpose is, who their audience is, and how best to achieve that purpose. They must seek to communicate with integrity, avoiding manipulation and fallacies. They must utilize and cite credible evidence. They must embrace clarity and organization, not merely as lines on a rubric, but as an obligation to their audience. They must be on the lookout for places in which their communication may be disrupted, or perceived differently than they had intended. They must approach communication with humility, and be the first to try and repair understanding when it does break down.

    One major temptation is to assume that these skills only apply to students for whom English is their “thing”--the future authors or journalists in the class. That is simply not the case. I like to tell the students that Humanities is really for those who feel more at home in math or science classes, who hope to one day become engineers, doctors, nurses, physicists, chemists, or programmers. My students who already feel at home in humanities courses likely do not need convincing, and they are likely to invest out of a pre-existing love for the subject. However, there are many students for whom English and History courses may seem like a waste of their time--time that could be spent taking that extra science or math AP that they just cannot fit into their schedule. These students are my target--Humanities is for them. I want them to understand the value of communication skills in contexts beyond the English or History classroom. I want them to feel equipped to write an analysis of their Comps issue and present their topic to the community as Seniors, but again, this is only the start. My hope is that regardless of the field my students will one day work in, they will distinguish themselves as confident, clear, precise and engaging communicators. In fields in which communication skills have not traditionally been emphasized in the past, I hope that my students will find opportunities to lead and shape their fields by virtue of their communication skills.

    Shaping the world in which they live--that is perhaps the ultimate goal. Problem-solving sounds like a skill that belongs in a math course, but I want my students to be able to apply their problem-solving skills to other arenas, and to constantly work to develop and sharpen those skills. One of the fundamental truths in Humanities class is that there’s a gulf between “what ought to be” and “what is”. Certainly, this is the crux of American History: one of the few nations in the history of the world to be explicitly founded on the ideals of freedom, equality and justice has consistently failed to live up to its own lofty ideals. I don’t mean to target America, because this is, in actuality, the story of humanity: we were created in God’s image, part of a Shalomic network of relationships with ourselves, others, creation and God that was wholly good, but sin has disrupted and distorted that perfect peace. The world is not as it was meant to be, and our task as those who bear God’s image is to serve as agents of restoration.

    This is a task I want my students to take seriously; to hear clearly the call to participate in restoration. This requires a desire to see justice done, as well as a capacity for thoughtful problem-solving. I hope my students will come away from my class bothered by injustice--bothered by poverty, bothered by oppression, bothered by the exploitation of others or the earth itself. Throughout the year, my aim is to expose my students to a number of issues in the hope that at least one will needle their sense of justice to the point where they can say without my prompting, “that’s not right!” Perhaps they will even decide on an issue for the Senior Comprehensives before the end of their 11th Grade year.

    Getting my students upset about injustice cannot be where my class ends, though. I need to provide a framework for action. I want my students to develop a thoughtful approach to addressing injustice, one which presses on, even as it accepts that the process will not be easy, and that human solutions will always be imperfect or incomplete. I want my students to develop an understanding of what citizenship, and participation in civil society will mean for them, considering what action a problem warrants. I do not want my students to automatically assume every issue in the world is the government’s responsibility to fix, nor do I want my students to automatically assume that every issue in the world is the responsibility of the individual to fix. I want my students to engage in the arduous and complex task of considering how the efforts of individuals can complement the actions of communities, churches and organizations, and the role that policy plays in all of this. Throughout all of this, I want my students to look for opportunities to take personal action so that pursuing justice is not simply an intellectual ideal, but a practical reality.

    If my students leave my class with nothing else--even if they don’t remember the symbols in The Great Gatsby, or the difference between the First and Second Great Awakening--I hope that they will leave with a greater capacity for critical thought, effective communication and thoughtful, justice-driven problem-solving. I don’t think I would have dismissed any of these qualities as unimportant eight years ago, but over time, they have emerged as truly essential to why I teach, what I teach, and how I teach. I look forward to planning with these goals more squarely at the center, and to being shaped myself, even as I continue to shape my Humanities course.

    Friday, June 16, 2017

    Summer Planning

    One of the things I appreciated most about my Master's program was that it provided focus and structure to my summer planning.

    Without some level of structure, I find myself easily overwhelmed by the sheer amount of books I'd like to read, most of which provide many ideas I'd like to incorporate into my own teaching.  

    The trouble is, when I try to do everything, I am unable to do anything.  

    So, I'm learning to set goals for myself to create the structure that I need to grow.

    This summer, I have three principal goals:

    1) Deepen my perspective on worldviews and justice. 
    After three years of teaching with justice as my central course theme (and worldview as a major focus along the way), I'm finding myself satisfied with these themes.  I feel like what I'm teaching is important, and most of the students seem to buy in.  With those themes firmly established, I want to develop my own understanding.  I'm asking students to articulate a personal perspective of justice in their final essays, and I think that if I were to try my hand at this same task, it would lack nuance.  I have three books on my reading list for this summer that I hope will bolster my foundation in teaching to these themes, and possibly provide me with solid classroom readings for the students:

    I read this book in 2010, but was too new to teaching for the ideas to really sink in and affect my teaching.  I've tried picking it up again several times over the years, but haven't made progress until now.  I read the first two chapters this morning, and already the book has touched on worldview, justice, agency, and various levels of action (personal, local, national and global), all of which are topics of study in class.  It's so good so far, I'm thinking about making it a required text for 11th grade!

    I've used the first chapter in class for the past two school-years, but haven't read further than that before.  I have always appreciated Dr. Keller's perspective, and find him to be more readable than many theologians tend to be.  This is next on the list after I finish the Monsma book. 

    The first semester of my Humanities class has developed into a study of worldviews.  Necessary and good changes in the CAJ Bible curriculum mean that the 10th graders are not doing an overview of worldviews as they were in the past, which is fine since 11th grade is a more developmentally appropriate age for this kind of thinking anyway.  It provides a natural context for looking at the relationship of literature to culture, and the various literary/artistic movements that have come and gone.  It also provides an opportunity to engage with utopian and dystopian views of humanity and society, which have incredible bearing on our discussions about justice second semester.  Tim Keller recommended this book on his Facebook account a while back, and trusting his recommendation, I have added this to my list, too. 

    2) Sharpen my ability to teach rhetorical analysis.
    Rhetorical analysis is perhaps the cornerstone of AP English: Language & Composition--being able to dissect and evaluate someone else's argument, while also being able to construct one's own.  This is a skill-set with value that extends beyond students taking AP English--this is a key component of good reading comprehension and even critical thinking in general.  It has tremendous implications for productive debates and discussions, both of which play a large role in my class.  The trouble is, this type of reading is something that comes easily to me, and always has.  Ever since high school, I've tested well on critical reading without ever really having to stop and think through the steps (which is nothing short of a miracle, considering how little reading I did during my school-years).  This means that I have an expert blind-spot--I've expected my students to just "get it", and have grown impatient or discouraged when many do not.  I want to do now what I should have done long ago--break the process of critical reading and argument analysis down into its component steps, first so that I can better understand what my brain is doing while I read, but also so that I can more effectively teach students to read in this way, and look out for where in the process understanding is breaking down.  I have two books that I hope will help me develop a stronger understanding of rhetorical analysis:

    There has been a 1970s edition of this book on my classroom shelf since before my time.  I cracked the book open this Spring, and while it was very outdated in its examples, the table of contents looked promising.  So, when I found out that the authors had released updated editions over the years, I asked our librarian to order the 2009 edition.  What's appealing to me about this book is its direct focus on debate, as this is something I can use in class, as well as with the debate team.

    Everything's An Argument by Andrea Lunsford, John Ruszkiewicz and Keith Walters
    This is evidently the textbook on rhetorical analysis.  This, too, has been on my shelf for a couple of years, but I have not committed to sitting and reading it yet.  My hope and plan is to get around to it this summer. 

    3) Align my curriculum more closely to carefully chosen standards. 
    I've grown increasingly settled on my overall course themes, but it had been a few years since I had looked closely at my standards and benchmarks.  What I realized is that I had listed way more benchmarks in my curriculum map than I was actually teaching; way more for each unit than I would ever have time to cover.   So, my campaign for this summer as far as actual curriculum work goes is to pare down my standards and benchmarks to what I believe to be absolutely necessary to my course themes (and by extension, to preparing students for their Senior Comprehensives after they finish my class).  I would like to use the benchmarks on my rubrics this year, something I haven't done before, and to make that worthwhile, I need to be much choosier than I have been.  As I said at the start of this post, when I try to do everything, I am unable to do anything--better to choose fewer benchmarks, but teach them well!

    While there may be other things I think about this summer (for instance, I hope to meet with one of my colleagues who teaches math to brainstorm ways to further integrate Humanities and STEM), these larger goals should hopefully provide me with the structure I need to move forward!

    Friday, June 9, 2017

    The Art and Science of Teaching

    As I write this post, it is the afternoon of Saturday, June 10, and I am sitting in the CAJ plaza.

    Yesterday was the last day of class for the school-year, and 24 hours ago, the plaza was packed full of students excitedly beginning their summer vacation and saying their goodbyes, sometimes cheerfully and sometimes tearfully.

    Today, the plaza is empty and the school feels like a ghost town.  The only sound on campus is the leaves of the Sakura trees rustling in the summer breeze.

    I am grading essays.

    I will have grades finished up by Wednesday, and then I will embark on my summer curriculum planning.

    Teaching is both an art and a science, and the longer I teach, the more I realize that I need to approach it from both angles.

    Summer is the time when teaching is mostly art.  My curriculum is a canvas, and I get to dream big--imagine what I want to be on the canvas, and then spend time figuring out the hues, the brush-strokes, the shading.  Summer is a time when I am in no rush--I can think deeply about teaching as a craft; a painting to be refined; a sculpture to be chiseled just so.  I've compared my summer curriculum work to restoring an old car, or tuning up an engine, but whatever the exact analogy, summer planning requires an artist's hand.

    The school-year is the time when teaching is mostly science.  The classroom is a laboratory, and with my students serving as researchers, we test the curriculum like a hypothesis.  Day-to-day teaching involves trial and error, the collection of evidence, the consideration of constants and variables to create precise conditions.  There are patterns to be discovered, theories to be proven, and new hypotheses to be made.  Regardless of whether the hypotheses hold true, we all step away having learned something.

    Now I know that this analogy may feel overly simplistic, and of course, there are elements of science to the summer planning, and art to the day-to-day teaching, but the fact remains that to thrive as a teacher, I must be both artist and scientist.

    Grading is where those facets meet--the place at which the art informs the science, and the science, in turn, informs the art.

    Each happens in their season--it's a wistful feeling to sit in this empty plaza, but at the end of a school-year, I'm ready to return to the drawing board!