Eduholic

I predict there will be at least 38 comments on this post. My kids do their homework, that much I know. I’m not so sure they all freewrite right. I take some of the blame; I’m not sure I’ve peeled back my skull enough in using this technique in class so as to make them understand just how undisciplined and generative the technique can be.

Regular readers of this blog will know that one of my favorite teacher tricks is the “quick write.” I use it when we are discussing or doing or watching something. At a certain point, instead of calling out questions to the group—a practice which generally results in a meaty conversation between me and ten percent of the students in the room—I ask kids to write their thoughts in their ever-handy writer’s notebook. What generally follows is a three- or ten- or eighteen- minute burst of intense silence, as every student scribbles out loud in his or her marble comp book.

I write, too. If I were to start puttering with papers or, even worse, walk around like a warden peering over their shoulders, I would be undermining the effectiveness of the freewrite. By writing intently, I send the message that this is thinking time for all of us. And it is. I usually have so many ideas after engaging in a class discussion that I can’t wait to make sense of them on paper.

My enthusiasm may be part of the problem. Every now and then I look up and notice with surprise that someone is twirling her pencil, or staring off into space. Why aren’t they madly scribbling, I wonder, generally before ducking my head back down to my own notebook page to keep up with a pen that hasn’t stopped moving.

One reason some stop writing, I think, is because they assume they’re done. Meaning, they’ve recorded a few lines for the assignment in case I check it, and now they just need to wait out the next five or fifteen minutes to get to the next thing (or even better, the end of class). Yes, even TJ students sometimes go through the motions. In fact, there are those who would argue that they tend to go through the motions even more than “regular” kids, so adept have our students become at the business of school.

Freewriting isn’t business. It isn’t about doing an assignment efficiently or for the grade. It’s really about letting go, losing yourself in a swirl of thoughts that may or may not go where you think it should. This is the creative ferment that leads to original ideas, in my experience, an absolutely essential stage along the path to more ordered, meaningful expression. I’ve explicitly taught it in a limited way, moreso implicitly by modeling and consistently having kids do it. Some get it, some don’t.

At any rate, I figured I’d take another stab here. Below is my own ten-minute freewrite at the end of a class discussion on Frankenstein. I’ve reproduced it verbatim, just the way it came out in my notebook. I’m assigning my tenth grade students to read this post and respond with a comment either directly from or based on their own freewrites. If they (or you) also want to weigh in on the process of freewriting itself, please do.

As context for those brave enough to wade through the responses, the reading covered was the last volume of three in Mary Shelley’s book. The day’s lesson consisted of sharing charts made last class in groups of four. Each chart had four sections. The first quadrant listed plot points using selected quotes. The second quarter noted “swoons and screams,” or other expressions of Romantic emotion. Third, I asked them to make a connection between Wordsworth’s “Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey” and the novel. Last, they had to find something that had recurred three times in the book, like an image, event, or an aspect of language.

While they shared the charts, I asked them to make notes on three questions in their writer’s notebooks. First, why are swoons and screams important? Second, what makes this a Romantic work? And third, write three thesis statements based on recurring aspects. At the end of class, we all wrote for an additional ten minutes. Here’s my unmediated response. Read on and my kids will show you theirs.

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Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 11:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I just finished teaching freshman comp at the local community college. Getting back two nights a week is welcome, but I will miss the mix of adults that offered such a stark contrast to the technocrats-in-training I teach on the day gig.

At the beginning of the course and at the end I asked students to write a “position paper.” The before and after snapshots let them and me see how far they’ve come. Below are excerpts from a few of the thirty four students’ papers. This is first draft writing, which I’ve reproduced unedited to preserve voice and give an accurate sense of the student population. Each evokes for me a snapshot of its author, and at the same time holds up a mirror to my teaching.

Mercedes is with a nonprofit now; in her past life she was a professional tour guide at an archeological site in Peru. She reflected on writing a personal narrative about the teacher that first made her love history: “My first composition was about my best teacher in high school, made me think a lot about my childhood. Never, before had I thought about it in the way that I did when writing my essay. It was like something sleeping in my unconscious until my new teacher helped me to bring it to the forefront of my mind.” With an archeologists sense of wonder she discovered the power of writing to uncover and interpret the artifacts of our past.

Valentina, one of two Russian au pairs in the class this session, raised her hand to ask questions as if she were chopping the air with military precision. What she took from the class would make Strunk & White forgive her occasional Cyrillic misspelling: “I’ve learned many useful teqcnicks such as “quote sandwich”, "snap shot”, “helicopter”…I’ve learned that in English language verbs are strong. Now I use more verbs, and try to avoid unnecessary adverbs and adjectives. I’ve learned how to be more specific.” In the end, it was the chance to make choices that most appealed to her: “Besides, I’ve been working at my grammar issues a great deal. The instructor gave us freedom to choose aspects grammar we want to work at; it was extremely helpful. I’ve reviewed articles three times; I’ve learned rules about usage semicolon. But one of the best things I’ve learned is how to write fast and enjoy it. I used to think about ever single word I put in my writing; it could take me hours to write a sentence. Now I write easy, but then revise thoroughly.”

Andres, formerly a young ad executive in Colombia, wrote his personal narrative about the harrowing experience of getting kidnapped off the streets of Bogota. In his research paper, he explored a different aspect of Colombian life, the controversy over how the traditional music of his country was being reinterpreted by a contemporary singer: “The best thing I learned was to think critically. While I was writing my papers and reading the essays I was thinking critically. The best example I have to explain this thought is the MLA research paper. I had to present an opposing view or counter-argument for my argument. My topic or my argument was about Carlos Vive and his new style to play Vallenato. In order to be objective my counter-argument was: ‘Many people disagree with Carlos Vives and his new style of music.’ I had to present both positions.” Andres, who had escaped from his kidnappers by engaging with them in conversation and essentially befriending them, explained that he felt critical thinking was “a tool to tolerate and respect those who have a different opinion of your point of view. If you have the information and you process that information in your mind, making it understandable, your opinion could be respected.”

Behind various piercings and tattoos, Annie was a fervent animal rights advocate who wrote about the tragedy of commercial whaling. Take a deep breath before reading this paragraph from her second position paper: “I know now to use commas to separate lists such as I love avocado, tomatoes, oranges, strawberries. Or you use commas to separate thoughts such as I love cake, especially tres leches cake. You can also use commas to express a pause. You also use commas after buts and before yets… About the run on sentences that’s just how I talk I can never stop I’m like Pringles once you pop you can’t stop well that’s how I am when it comes to talking. Although surprisingly I feel as though I’ve gotten better at that too. Only because now I’m always trying to cut myself off (LOL). Sentences have a subject, verb it’s a complete thought. Such as they towed my car. If I wanted to continue that sentence I could but it would be better if I just started a new sentence.” A Yogi Berra of grammar, Annie’s errors make sense. What is clear is an emerging understanding of grammatical ideas that had previously been a mystery to her.

Jamil is a young man who came to class one day with half his face sagging. He persisted in the course despite a scary bout with what turned out to be Bell’s palsy. He had bootstrapped his way from a checkered past into a new job, at the start of this course, and a new sense of his own potential by the end of it: “The most important things I took from this class were an integrated social and hands on learning environment. I had to stimulate my mind, and turn in assignments in a timely manner. In this atmosphere I learned many different techniques of writing, mainly on a research paper. I am now a lot more savy on the internet in doing research, finding credible sources of information, and how to do this in an efficient manner. I learned to write with detail, in a flowing direction which is easy for the reader to follow. I learned to use imagery, keep wording simple, pay attention to tense… and most importantly to just let your initial writing flow to your paper and do revisions later.”

Olivia was a young mom once diagnosed with a learning disability, now returning to the classroom but unsure if she could succeed. She was the last person out the door on the first night of class, painstakingly recopying her first position paper. With fluid confidence she wrote on the last night of the course: “The content of the first position paper is most interesting to me. I find it sad that I had little confidence in my ability to write. I feel now that I’m done with my first English class in almost ten years, that I did very well. I’m very proud of my self and what I have written. It took a lot of work and tears to have completed what I have done. I’m now not afraid of writing. I feel that I can get an internship and move on to get my degree. I can see a little more clearly, that I can complete my goal in life with out the fear of writing to hold me back.”

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 2:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I had a tough time keeping track of my students last Friday because some were silent and others were invisible. Both groups of kids were participants in activities I sponsor at TJ. The silent ones were members of the Gay-Straight Alliance (GSA), who held a day of silence to protest homophobia and then a “breaking the silence” party to go with it. The hard to see ones were members of the UNICEF club, who sponsored a presentation from an organization called “Lost Children” that promotes awareness and education for Ugandans suffering under that country’s twenty-year plus civil war.

Why all the do-gooding? First, you need to grok “8th period,” the unique system for extracurriculars here at TJ. Because we’re a magnet school serving five far flung districts, we can’t hold club meetings after hours like regular schools do. Instead, using creative scheduling allowed by a block system, twice a week we have “8th period,” during which students can sign up for any of over 150 clubs and activities ranging from Namaste (which celebrates Indian culture) to the classic rock appreciation club (two years ago we rubbed elbows with Jethro Tull: did you know Aqualung is also an acquaculturalist?).

This being TJ, the complicated system is fully computerized on a student-designed intranet that allows kids to check and change their schedules at the click of a mouse. There are humans behind this extracurricular Oz, of course, including a full time administrator and a small army of parent volunteers. The school thinks it’s worth it to offer kids a breath-taking range of opportunities to explore interests that don’t fit into the heavy academic curriculum.

GSA is one example. Historically, high school isn’t a good place to be different. While TJ is far less stratified than a normal school (our jocks are nerds, too), girls who like girls or boys with two mommies need a safe place to just be for a few minutes a week. Hence the club. It’s not an especially energetic group, as TJ clubs go. At a normal meeting, kids simply sit around and talk. Except once a year, on The Day of Silence, when they carry a card around to all their classes explaining to teachers and kids why they’re not talking. For this occasion, we also passed out rainbow ribbons and invited students from other local high schools to join us for pizza in the courtyard at the end of the day, where all the kids got together and… talked. Very subversive, the entire thing.

UNICEF is another group I sponsor, or at least try to keep up with. They seem to have taken the saving the world thing literally, and have it in their planners as due this year. Here’s a bit from an email from the club president I just popped open:

So on May 8th and May 16th for B Block we have Mr. Lagon and M. Saade coming. Mr. Lagon will discuss women/child trafficking and M. Saade, water/sanitation issues. Mr. Rosenfeld, could we get either the auditorium or college career center?... On May 8th we also got a break fundraiser reserved. I guess we'll sell pizza + t shirts. Treasurers, could one of you check with the finance office? We need to have the purchase order and such filled out beforehand-- they will order the pizza for us after we fill it out. We also have a break fundraiser Friday May 23rd, Wednesday June 11th,and Friday June 13th. Again, I assume we're selling pizza + t shirts…

I’ll stop now so you aren’t too winded to keep reading. Friday’s event was more of the same, with a rock and roll twist. “Lost Children” is a group that somehow makes saving kids sexy through documentaries featuring attractive American young people who throw themselves into transformative friendships with tragically typical Ugandans.

It remains to be seen if intolerance and injustice are out of business since Friday afternoon. But if you want to bet on changing the world, I’ll take TJ kids pursuing their passions over butterfly wings flapping in China any day.

One thing I know they change is me. Through sponsoring the activities, I’m drawn into the emotional and political world my students inhabit. It is a little weird sometimes to end a work week listening to kids broach social taboos while sitting at 1950s-style one-armed bandits, or a little depressing to take in a video about genocide. Even so, as I drive home on Friday afternoon with my elbow out the window, it’s generally with the feeling that once again, my students have taught me valuable lessons.

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 9:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Stealing a few strokes at the keyboard as students behind me murmur lines about schoolboys going to school with heavy looks while they comb Romeo and Juliet for motifs. Later in the period it’s a quick review of the 4th quarter calendar with due dates for upcoming projects, and then we’ll watch as ill-fated George Clooney and Marky Mark climb the big wave for the last time at the end of a movie we didn’t find time to finish last quarter.

Tying up loose ends, choreographing weeks to come… must be the end of April, that pause before the real perfect storm (AP’s, SOL’s, and final exams) upends the fourth quarter.

Sitting here in limbo, I can’t help but cast my eye back to the last time I took a deep breath. In “The Lull Before the Storm” (August 21, 2007) I wrote an existential to do list from this then more silent trailer, which included plans to write a book, change jobs, master technology, and be a better man.

My progress, respectively: sort of, maybe, kind of, and still trying. Here are some details.

1. I could write a book… if I write a book proposal. My dreams of a subsidized writing summer seem to have slipped away in the blur of the school year, but this blog helped me move in the right direction by providing a place to work out ideas about metacognitive practice and lessons that are engaging and multimodal. A title popped out of a fortune cookie over a free lunch with an ASCD editor: Formative Assessment in a Student-Centered Classroom. Real progress was on hold while I worked on my National Board retake, but that excuse is gone. Next step, in theory, is a table of contents and a few sample chapters. In practice, for the next two weeks I’m catching up on night school papers and then the end of the year crunch here at TJ.

2. The Truth Window… I peeked through it at a few independent school head jobs and quickly discovered that I’m not going to slide into the top spot without spending a few years climbing the ladder in other administrative roles. Since then I’ve adjusted my sights and conducted a limited local search. I’m prepared to move if a great job opens up, and to stay in my current great job otherwise. One pleasant discovery is that there is a legitimate hybrid role as teacher-administrator in the private school world that simply doesn’t exist in public schools (though it should).

3. Tech mojo…my kids blogged and wiki’d their way through some Great Books and science papers, and I discovered that tapping into 2.0 really does get qwerty kids to talk to each other. The technology isn’t an end in itself, but it fosters collaborative writing and thinking in a way that good old marble comp books can’t. I may never become a card-carrying 2.0er (microblogging at Twitter seems unlikely given that I can count the number of text messages I’ve sent in my life on one hand). Then again, if a dude who made his students build a dugout canoe with stone tools can do it, so can you.

4. Mo’ better… hmm, depends what day. The latest adventure in parenting involves getting our 7-year old to sleep by himself. Having exhausted our normal repertoire—negotiation, bribery, and yelling—now we’re seeking professional help. The counselor wants us to share “happies and crappies” every night at the dinner table. I’d tell you more about how it’s working but I’m about to fall asleep at the keyboard.

Posted by Emmet Rosenfeld at 4:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)