Friday off...We had conferences this week, which means today was a glorious Comp day. What did I do? Run errands. What did I want to do? Read a book. I just finished George by Alex Gino about a transgender 4th grader that was really quite good. It's middle grade fiction and the recurring Charlotte's Web references made me happy. I'm also reading Turning 15 on the Road to Freedom by Lynda Blackmon Lowery as my "at school" book, The End of your Life Bookclub by Will Schwable is on my nightstand, and I'm trying to tackle Farenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury as well. This isn't unusual for me -- I usually am part-way through 5 or 6 different books, depending on what I want to read/enjoy. I do, however, hope this weekend's beautiful temperatures (in the 60s! In winter! in Iowa!) mean some time to read on the porch. Find more information about the slice of life blogging challenge by Two Writing Teachers at this link.
Kari Straube is working on her second slice of life challenge in 2017. She spends her days with freshmen in rural Iowa & loves helping them grow. Her English teacher husband encourages her book hoarding habits & people do not like helping them move. She can be contacted at [email protected]
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Caught gradingThere is something magical about entering a long weekend with all of the grading caught up & copies for Monday ready to go. Unfortunately, that is magic I've only experienced once or twice in my teaching career. Tonight I sit at conferences wanting to do anything but get caught up on feedback for student writers. I'm tired and my head hurts and getting up the energy for appropriate feedback is a little tough. So, I'm going to take a lap, refill my water bottle, maybe chat with a colleague for a few minutes, and then get back to work. I recently listened to Nora Roberts on "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" talk about writer's block. She claimed she doesn't believe in writer's block because you can always write, it just might be good. Instead, she pushes her self to write every single day & she edits the crap later. For her, the ritual of writing is important, even if a majority of what she writes is deleted. I need to take that advice and apply it to planning, grading, updating my blog, and my work in general. Channel a little Dory and "just keep swimming" since progress is far better than no progress. Find more information about the slice of life blogging challenge by Two Writing Teachers at this link.
Kari Straube is working on her second slice of life challenge in 2017. She spends her days with freshmen in rural Iowa & loves helping them grow. Her English teacher husband encourages her book hoarding habits & people do not like helping them move. She can be contacted at [email protected] When that mockingbird won't sing...Every time I teach To Kill a Mockingbird, I'm reminded of a lullaby my dad taught me. You know it -- "and if that mockingbird won't sing..." and a list of things the parent is going to buy or do. So, even before I've cracked the cover, TKAM reminds me of my dad. So, this February, I geared up to start TKAM with a new crew of freshmen. Freshmen, a squirrely bunch, are all united by one thing (even though they will deny it): they love to be read to. Thankfully, my dad was excellent at reading out loud and he passed his gifts on to me. I relish reading out loud -- I can hold the book, walk the isles, raise and lower my voice to keep kids engaged, and I can spout a pretty good southern drawl when I'm trying to sound like Miss Maudie Atkinson. I wouldn't say it's a production, but it would be hard to ignore me when I get going. So, I read the first couple of chapters out loud every. single. time. we read a novel. It's important that students get a feel for the language and for the characters and (I hope!) reading aloud provides that for them. This year, though, I was faced with a new challenge to reading about my favorite literary dad: I've very recently lost my own dad. In January, my dad passed away. If you can imagine how much of a "daddy's girl" Scout is, you have a pretty good idea of what my relationship with my dad was like. He was my champion, my protector, my cheerleader, my very first teacher, and an all-around gentle soul. When I was younger, "Daddy do it," was one of my catch phrases and I'm always drawn to books where the main character admires her dad. Dad taught me to love reading in his lap; I can trace my English teacher roots to his chair, well past my bedtime, sharing stories. So, I set out to read chapter 2 out loud. In chapter 2, for those who don't have the joy of rediscovering the novel with 80 new faces every year, Scout gets in trouble at school. She sticks up for Walter Cunningham and her first grade teacher, teaching the "Dewey Decimal System" is upset with her for knowing how to read and write in cursive. Scout, being as reactionary as she is, is frustrated. She has decided to hate school (something she continues to do throughout the novel). In that chapter, she delivers one of the most poignant lines in the book: "Until I feared I would lose it, I did not love to read, one does not love breathing." I always pause after this line and let it sink in and permeate my classroom. What does it mean to love something so much that it scares one to lose it? How does that feel? This year, that line socked me in the gut. I felt Scout's pain knowing my loss, while different, was as big as the moment Scout was staring down. I managed not to cry, but I did have to take a few deep breaths to keep going. That line, and the subsequent "deal" Scout makes with Atticus to keep reading at night reminded me of the grief I'm still working through. They reminded me how lucky I was to have a dad who believed in education, who believed in treating others with kindness and respect, who stood up for those who couldn't always stand up for themselves, and who lead others with a quiet, patient, gentle manner. People who love TKAM love Atticus for so many of the same reasons that I love my dad. I'm reading TKAM with new eyes this year, which isn't a bad thing. I think every time a reader revisits a novel she picks up a new meaning, a new part speaks to the heart of us all. That is why reading is so powerful and so important to share with the little (and big) ones in our lives. C.S. Lewis once said, "we read to know we are not alone." Reading TKAM, sharing it with my students, remind me that even when I miss my dad, I'm not alone. He'll always be there in our favorite stories. Find more information about the slice of life blogging challenge by Two Writing Teachers at this link.
Kari Straube is working on her second slice of life challenge in 2017. She spends her days with freshmen in rural Iowa & loves helping them grow. Her English teacher husband encourages her book hoarding habits & people do not like helping them move. She can be contacted at [email protected] I am so angry about the way Iowa Legislators are treating Iowans. Here's the letter I wrote to my republican representatives:
Good Afternoon, I am writing to you as a young educator. I'm 29 years old and in my 8th year of teaching high school. I recently moved back to Iowa from teaching in Illinois because I wanted to work in my home state where education was a value for me. Recently, however, it's become very clear that Iowa no longer values its teachers. I was in Galena, Illinois when Wisconsin gutted its teacher unions. That had a detrimental effect on Wisconsin schools, but a very positive effect for ours: people moved out of Wisconsin & into our district. Our district grew because people saw the way the upheaval in education in Wisconsin hurt their students and left. The same will happen to Iowa. My husband is also a teacher in Iowa public schools. His school has been consistently cutting teachers and his teaching load has steadily increased each year. At this point, he is near burnout. He will not hesitate to leave the profession if his rights are stripped away even more. In fact, there is a good chance my husband and I will leave the state if we continue our careers in education. The bills in the legislature this month have made it clear that teachers, especially those of us trying to make a living and raise a family, are not a priority for Iowa any longer. I used to be a proud Iowan and proud to be an Iowa teacher, but it looks less and less likely that I will continue to say that in the coming weeks. In fact, it seems unlikely I will be proud of much concerning my state simply because legislators don't see the value of a quality public education anymore. My friends, those in their late twenties and early thirties, have already fled the state to raise their families elsewhere. It looks like my husband and I will be forced to do the same. Think about all of the consequences of this legislation before you vote. Quality teachers, firemen, police officers, nurses and other hard working, middle-class individuals will leave this state and look for places their work is respected and valued by their elected officials since that clearly is no longer Iowa. Young families will leave because they will no longer have faith their legislators want them to lead quality middle-class lives like their parents did. The population of Iowa is already aging; adding a public worker crisis (especially a shortage of quality teachers, nurses, police, and firemen) will not convince many in the younger generation to stay. I voted for you in this election, even though I'm usually a democrat, because I thought you would do what's right based on your platforms. Clearly, I was wrong. I won't make that mistake again, and I won't let the others around me do it, either. Sincerely, Kari Straube I was grading student reading blogs today & noticed a pattern for the first time in literature: Where are all of the great literary moms? I ask because there are lots of great literary dads out there (who I am going to write a bit about), but what about the mothers? In fact, without much digging to think about it, I can't really think of any literary moms I particularly like. As a woman, and (hopefully) a future mother, that makes me so very sad! I'm going to keep thinking on this subject and revisit it, and if you can think of a great literary mother I've forgotten, PLEASE comment below! Now, on to some of my favorite literary dads: Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird I love Atticus. He's patient, kind, treats his children like young adults, and explains things well. These attributes I respect as an educator. In fact, on the days when I feel the end of my rope slipping through my hands, I make sure to channel an inner Atticus to take a deep breath, smile, and say something positive. I also try to channel Atticus to engage curiosity of my students and to explain punishments fully for people who act out. Atticus is one of my favorite literary dads. Papa from The Book Thief Papa is quite possibly my favorite literary dad. He's so kind to Liesel, even though he bedwetting phase. He reads to her, teaches her, and lets her have tantrums. He lets Liesel live through her pain, but encourages her to move on from it. He knows what the Nazis are doing is wrong and lives in quiet protest. Papa hides Max because he knows it's the right thing to do, Nazi invasion be damned. Plus, there are few books that made me sob like the ending of The Book Thief. Papa taught me that sometimes fits are necessary to move on and that it's important to do what you believe in, even if it means you might get in trouble. His quiet protests showed me that sometimes doing what you believe is right doesn't have to be showy, it can be simply to save two more lives. Pa from The Little House on the Prairie series Pa was my first favorite literary dad. Laura obviously adores him as she grows up and wishes to be a boy to be more like him multiple times. Pa plays music, is a prankster, and treats Ma lovingly. Now, there has been historical evidence to suggest otherwise about Pa, but I'm refusing to ruin a childhood favorite series by acknowledging that. Sometimes fiction is best left alone to stand as fiction. Now, a common denominator between these literary men. is that they raised strong, spunky daughters. Their girls are tomboys who won't take no for an answer and believe they have just as many rights as men. These girls fight patriarchal society alongside their fathers, even when facing great adversity. My three favorite literary dads obviously push their daughters to be stronger, better women. But seriously, where are the awesome literary moms? This post is the final in a series for the Slice of Life writing challenge from Two Writing Teachers. While I didn't participate as fully in the challenge as I would have liked, this challenge provided me the opportunity to write in ways I wouldn't have otherwise. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for the push outside my comfort zone.
Today is a weird day of school. I woke up to half an inch of ice layered on my car and no 2 hour delay. Cute, right? Anyway, since today was originally "Spring Break" and became a snow make-up day, it's already a weird day with many students absent. That means a lot of adjustments in my classes.
My Creative Writing students are ready to move on to their next project, but I hate assigning a project then sending them away for a 4day weekend, so we improvised a bit. Their next project is to write a children's book in a small group, so we've been reading children's books, learning about children's book structures, and researching fairytales. Today I put students into groups and had them write new fairytales. I read a rendition of "The Three Little Pigs" out loud (check out The Three Aliens and the Big Bad Robot, it's hilarious. I did not make the robot noises, however), then told students in partners to find a fairytale and retell it making changes to the characters, setting, or outcome, or all 3. The writing exercise didn't take very long, but it stretched them creatively and had them analyzing what was important and should be kept, and what could be changed. Overall, it was a fun activity. I'm excited to see what these students come up with for their storybooks!
There is a lot of anticipation in the air this week. Anticipation of a long weekend (our version of "Spring Break"), anticipation of Spring (it's 56 degrees today!), anticipation of a snowstorm expected to hit us on Thursday (No think you, 4-8 inches of snow & possible ice). Prom is approaching. Track season is in full swing. The golfers have been on the courses. Driver's licenses will soon be awarded. There are lots of things for teens to anticipate and lots of things for adults to worry about.
All of this has left me, and many others, a little on edge. This edginess has lead to kindness slipping. The students are being mean to each other. Under the breath comments, unkind reactions to writing, rude language in the hallways: it's all been around lately. Adults, too, are not being as kind to each other as they've been previously. Emails when conversations would be better, quick replies that don't carry warmth, no smiles in the hallways. We're all wrapped up in our own anticipation & our worries. Everyone's Christmas spirt has worn holes and Easter doesn't carry the same anticipation for many. In short, we need a mood-lifter. A game changer. A chance to rediscover the kindness we've previously shown and remind ourselves we catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. WIll that be a snow day? Only Thursday will tell! Today we're wrapping up TKAM. The students have also learned about the Great Depression & the trial of the Scottsboro boys. Today their goal was to take a packet & video about the Scottsboro boys we had been working on most of the week and boil it down into 5 important takeaways. First, we started in small groups. Then a delegate from each group took their 5 facts or takeaways to the front of the room and through the help of other delegates and their classmates, students boiled the trial & lessons down in to 5 "class facts." This was a totally student led activity, and it was great to sit away from them and let them go. Only 2 of the 5 sections needed minimal redirection to accomplish this task -- everyone else just worked to complete the task. In book club we've been reading Learn Like a Pirate about student led classrooms. While I can't quite let go the way the author has, I think teachers often forget to get out of the way and encourage students to grapple with texts and tough issues themselves. Sometimes through being the "guide on the side," teachers accidentally inject themselves into learning that students don't need help with. Today, for example, I observed that my placement during the room directly impacted how much control students took of the room. When I moved to the back and sat down, students built everything together. If I got up or sat too near their working space, students looked to me for the final answer. Some days I need a sign to remind myself to shut up, get out of their way, and let them learn. In the gallery below are a few examples of what my students came up with for their top 5 most important lessons to know about the Scottsboro boys trial. Enjoy!
One of the nice...interesting...intriguing...hilarious... [pick your own adjective] things about teaching freshmen is they sometimes forget that my classroom door opens into their locker bay. They also forget that I have ears & can hear them, especially when my room is silent. Most teens forget that voices carry & live by the "out of sight, out of mind" theory. This means I overhear some very interesting things. The other day, I heard a student tell another student, "She thinks we can read 2 chapters tonight? Mrs. Straube is the meanest teacher in the world." I am a mature & reasonable adult. This means I laughed out loud. I'm not sure the student noticed it was me, but I stopped listening after that. It's always best if you (1) don't figure out who the voice belongs to and (2) don't listen when people say things behind your back. This student did transport me back to childhood, however. When I was little, I would often force my niece and nephew to play school. Naturally, 4 years their senior, I was the teacher. This was not negotiable (until we were a bit older and my nephew corrected my spelling on the chalkboard and I decided snarky kids were hard to teach and we played something else). Anyway, these kids had homework, lots of it. Lots and lots of it. So many math problems. Dozens of spelling words. Science experiments like crazy. In short, they often said I was "the meanest teacher in the world." Once, my brother asked me if I intended to be the meanest teacher in the world when I grew up. I was probably 7 or 8 at the time, and my niece and nephew were being squirrel-like pupils and I was reprimanding them (likely loudly, I was a born yeller). I told him, "Yes, mean teachers make you learn." This became a running joke in my family. I was raised by pretty strict but very loving parents. I attended a strict but fair & balanced Catholic grade school. My favorite teachers in high school were tough, kind, and gave us lots of important work. My favorite college professor was funny, told great stories, and once made me cry in class not meanly, but because I felt like I had disappointed him. All of these people were strict, fair, and still kind. That's really what I meant by "mean." Now, as a teacher in my 7th year, I've been called the meanest teacher in the world. I'm sure this isn't the first time, but this is the first time it was in earshot and not under someone's breath. I hope that student meant strict, that I challenge him/her, and that he/she is learning. I shared this story with my 7th hour students, telling them I'd achieved a major life goal. They laughed, asked if I was having "an existential crisis," and asked me what I would do next. [They also offered to brainstorm new goals if necessary, but only if they could get out of discussing TKAM] I told them I planned to keep being mean, which made them laugh more. A classroom that often erupts in laughter, praises those who work hard and pushes those who don't, and also involves a lot of reminders of the importance of kindness can be a little "mean" now and then. Seriously, though, what will I do next?
I know I wrote about reading yesterday, but Spring has sprung here in Iowa, and I am dreaming of June, my reading month. I read throughout the school year, but in fits and starts. June's long, warm mornings and lack of regular employment are a gift I give myself, a gift I must think of during the dreary so-much-longer-than-it-seems month of February when I do not have the energy or patience to finish a book. In June, I read. The first full week with no school responsibilities, I often read 5-7 books. I often read a book a day, forcing myself to come to the surface for food and exercise only. Sometimes I shower or interact with other humans, but not always. June is my gift for 60-70 hour work weeks that encompass the dreariest and most depressing part of winter.
Time and a lack of commitment are two of the biggest reasons I am not a very good reader during the school year, but there is another reason I want to share today: I am a book giver. My students are always welcome to help themselves to my classroom library and ask for books I don't have regularly. They also often ask about what I'm reading and if I will share it. I always stop, take out the bookmark, and give the book to a student who is interested. I tell them I expect a full review when they're finished & will read it later. I explain I don't have time to finish it quickly, so it's better if he/she reads it first. Always. Then, often that student hands the book to another student, and another, and sometimes the book gets lost or buried in a locker. That's okay, I will just buy another copy when I want to read it. |
The views on this blog are mine alone and do not reflect those of my employer or anyone else. AuthorKari teaches English I to 9th graders (!) and other electives in rural Iowa. Her husband is also an English teacher, and their friends have sworn to never help them move again because "even libraries don't have that many books." Archives
March 2017
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