Now They're Freshmen

It's second semester, my dears. Most of you passed first semester. You did it. You're now officially successful high school Honors students. That's a terrific feat considering everything you're asked to cope with during this first year.

But what this means is that now we can really get to work. We ramp up from here, darlings. Are you up for it? Have you looked at the second semester of our syllabus? Do that, and when you do, I want you to be thinking to yourself, "It's going to be tough, but I can do this, and do it well!"

Welcome back. :)

New Beginnings

The Seniors are gone! Long live the Seniors! Every semester they leave and I wonder how I can possibly bond with a new group of them, how can I possibly learn to love my new students as much as the ones who just passed the course. But I always do. And I always miss the ones who have gone.
I think this is part of that whole "circle of life" process that Elton John sings about for The Lion King. It's tough. But I'm beginning to learn that it's not bad.

The First Month

The first month of school, with all its frantic confusion, is over. Everything and everyone is shaking down into a manageable routine. I've had nine parents visit my classroom--in part, I suspect, to see if I really do have the devil horns and tail their children led them to expect. "Mrs. Donelly is a monster! We read a half-page story and the quiz on it was a whole page--front and back!"

Can we blame the kids? Fill in the blank and multiple choice questions can't prepare students for a curriculum based on analysis, evaluation, and creation--whether the core subject is social studies, math, science, or English.

Some of the kids are mad that they can't make A's without working or thinking.

But some of my students have begun to dig in their heels.
And some of them are rising to the challenge.
They like it better this way,
because some are discovering that they have fine and clever minds.

Fighting for Breath

***ALL NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT PRIVACY***

http://www.noattacks.org/

We're beginning modern Brit Lit, and I'm leading a discussion on the changing conception of war that began with the Civil War and crystallized with WWI. Why this seachange? Well, journalism, communications, and more efficient weapons. Film and machine guns. They got it, and ...

Lindsey spoke up and said, "Mrs. D?"
"Yes?"
"Aleeyah can't breathe."

I experience that nanosecond of "Huh?" the universe allows you when the unexpected happens and then--we've all been there--I shift into overdrive and suddenly I'm by Aleeyah's side and she's crying and wheezing and her limbs are heavy and--

"Lindsey? Where's her inhaler?"
"She says she doesn't have it." damndamndamndamndamn and then--we've all been there--I realize multiple things simultaneously.

(1) The nurse is out today, all my seniors have cell phones, and Jeremy is closest to the window. "Jeremy, call 911."
(2) Lindsey is Aleeyah's best friend, a principal needs to know, Lindsey won't stop and chat. "Lindsey, go get Ms. Rembert."
(3) Chuck is Aleeyah's ex-boyfriend, they're still good friends, he probably knows how to contact her folks. "Chuck, call her daddy."

... and I cradle Aleeyah and keep her head up and hear snatches of Jeremy in the background getting impatient but trying to keep his temper with the 911 operator, "... seventeen ... don't know ... No, I can't ask her! She can't even breathe, how can she talk!?"

... and I tell Aleeyah how much I love her and get her to focus on me and I see the fear in Lindsey's eyes, "Ms. Rembert's not here, Mrs. D! I don't want to leave Aleeyah again." "It's okay, baby, it can wait."

And then Aleeyah's sister came. Chuck got her from her classroom while on the phone with her daddy, and she and Lindsey helped Jeremy answer questions--and I realize that Chuck had known the best thing to do without my telling him.

... and I notice all my darling, my dearest, my infinitely precious seniors standing around, wanting to help, knowing there's nothing they can do because we can't breathe for someone we care about ...



And then Lindsey is by Aleeyah's side saying, "Stop panicking. You'll make it worse. It's gonna be okay."--and I realize that Lindsey knows the best thing to say without my telling her.

... and Aleeyah begins to shake and tremor and we wait for the paramedics to arrive ...

And then the paramedics came to the door at the end of our wing, fifteen steps away, NOT the front door of the school which is about a quarter mile away--and I realize that Jeremy had known the best directions to give without my telling him.

And as far as I'm concerned, Jeremy, Lindsey, and Chuck graduate RIGHT NOW because they have passed a test I cannot conceive of putting them through. With their friend's life on the line, they knew else what to do, and did it.

And because they did it, Aleeyah breathes.



http://www.noattacks.org/

Wordsworth's Daffodils

How do we teach Wordsworth's daffodils?

I live in the South Carolina low country so I've got azaleas to fall back on--even our teenagers understand the unexpected beauty of these nondescript shrubs that burst into riotous drapes of pink flames for one month ... and then fade into the green background.

But it's not--forgive me, ye members of the Canon!--the daffodils that matter. You have to update the concept. Wordsworth had found his happy place. And he returned to it again and again and again.

I tell mystudents about my happy place. It involves Antonio Banderas, a long low chaise-longue, drinks served in coconuts with paper umbrellas, and the complete works of Tolkien. (He's reading them out loud to me in that voice of his--why, what did you think I meant?)

But still, but still, isn't there something else we can do to make Wordsworth more accessible? Why yes, there is! Just go to this website http://www.golakes.co.uk/wordsworthrap/ to see and hear Wordsworth backed by mad beats.

Thanks to Jim for letting us know about this!

Pride (In the Name of Love)

Bono or no Bono, my freshmen make me enormously proud. Why?

Because they voted to work on their MEAN HORRIBLE NASTY POETRY RESEARCH AND ANALYSIS PAPER over Spring Break.

Because they are sending me highlighted drafts and asking me specific, intelligent questions.

Because now they can competently read, analyze, evaluate, and write about the work of a foreign poet--independently!

Because they are beginning to realize just how much their skills have matured since that first quiz--remember "Goha"?

You've come a long way, darlings. :)

Plus One Makes Twe--no, Thirteen

You should probably add Elie Wiesel's Night to the list ... and The Scarlet Letter ...