Helpless and Holding My Breath

I didn’t know what it was like to hold my breath for four months, until I was finally able to exhale. I didn’t know what it was like to have one of my children away – really far away, 7000 miles away – and how difficult that would be. And I didn’t know the relief and the incredible release that her return would bring.

My elder child’s study abroad semester in Kenya was a learning experience for all of us. It felt like a long time. It felt like that old joke: I spent a month with my in-laws one weekend.

While the departure was difficult, it now feels like the easiest part of the journey. The random panic attacks, sudden teary eyes, and overwhelming anticipation of a video chat became rituals to which I never fully adjusted.

And then the early morning phone call:  At 6am on Saturday, September 20, it rang. I was half asleep when I answered it; my daughter said, “Daddy, I’m fine.” Great, I thought, “Why are you calling? What is going on?” There had been a terrorist attack at a shopping mall about two kilometers from her apartment. The siege on that mall would last several days. Only later would my daughter tell me that, at the time of the attack, she and her roommate were on their way there.

My brother called and said we should bring her home. Now. And having her home would certainly have been good for my blood pressure and racing heartbeat. Yet, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. The university told us she was safe. My wife pointed out that there are dangers everywhere. Most of all, my daughter did not think it was necessary to leave. I had to rely her judgment. Her judgment is excellent, and I have come to trust it. My emotional and protective side wanted her under my care. But I knew that I could no more protect her here, than I could there. She was going to have to navigate these situations on her own. And although I knew she could, I wanted to be by her side. I wanted to continue coaching and parenting. I couldn’t and I shouldn’t and it was one of the most difficult things NOT to do.

Things did calm down. Life returned to the new normal in both Africa and our home. We scheduled a weekly video chat. We exchanged occasional text messages and emails. I can’t say I got used to it. I would race home from Sunday school and set up for our weekly sighting. And when she didn’t want to say goodbye, I wanted to reach through the screen and hug her.

There were the little illnesses, difficulties with classes, and the usual bumps that any college student or world traveler experiences. I watched her handle them beautifully.   I worried when she wasn’t feeling well and wondered about where she could get good medical care if she needed it. Being thousands of miles from campus, I marveled as she registered for next semester, applied for a job, and arranged for housing from afar.

For one week, she was staying in a home in a distant part of Kenya. Rural week, it was called. She didn’t know if her hosts would have electricity, running water, or would even speak English. We talked the day before she left and then we crossed our fingers.

Midweek, my phone rang! She was checking in! Fortunately, she was staying in the home of a government official and college professor! Other students had much more primitive lodgings. She could use her cell phone to call us and I was relieved. It worked out fine.

That, I guess, is the theme of this entire experience: It worked out fine. I knew that she could take care of difficult challenges without me. I learned that I could not only let her do that, but I would survive standing on the sidelines and being so far out of the action.

And now, she is back in the arms of the family. After a grueling two-day journey, we are back together, and I can breathe again. I wanted to fly to Africa and accompany her home. I exercised all my bad helicopter parent tendencies on the last leg of the journey. I tracked her flight and touched base at each of her five cities. I raced to the airport to meet her. I got there too soon and paced and fretted.

And I know the big lesson: we are going to do this again – and again and again. I better get used to it. I don’t know if I will. I was jealous of parents whose kids came home for Thanksgiving. I was jealous of parents of students studying in London, Rome, Madrid, and even Perth. But that isn’t my child. My child will be going to learn in much more remote and unusual locations. And I am going to practice breathing.

Finding Poetry and the Man in the Chair

In the winter of 1996, I was struggling to help my Freshman English students understand and appreciate poetry. We were reading Romeo and Juliet, and Shakespeare felt concrete and foreign. Through an article in a professional journal, I stumbled on to the concept of “found poetry.”

Found poetry is verse created out ordinary everyday sources: product labels, cereal boxes, instruction manuals, and newspaper articles. The journal had an example of a poem by Julius Lester called “Parents” based an article from a paper in Arizona.

I presented the Lester poem to my students. Then I showed them two examples of my own: a piece written from a computer program manual and another based on a recent newspaper article.

The article was entitled “Hope grows on vines of love: Faith nourishes paralyzed teen, family.” It was about a high school hockey player who was paralyzed during a game and struggling to recover. I don’t remember my thoughts when selecting this article. I might have wanted a piece about teenager. It was in the “PrepsPlus” part of the Sunday paper, which I rarely read. In addition, the article has strong traditional religious overtones, which is hardly my style. It seems an unlikely selection.

Modeling the process for my students, I wrote a brief piece using the article as my found source:

Hope is where you find it.

O'Connor's eyes

are half open.

"I think I'm in a pretty good mood

for a kid with a broken neck."

hope has become

a finger twitch

"It's very slight,"

a flicker of movement

Doctors may know about

probability

but they don't know about building

hope

"it was just an accident"

"My arms looked

real far away. And my neck

hurt."

Ehhhhh, you're doomed

"It's hard sometimes"

He still has body spasms that frighten him.

"It's never going to get easy,"

it just tears your heart out

But not yet.

It could have been worse.

It isn’t much compared to Lester’s disturbing and professional poem. I figured I needed to show my students some sample found poems. Kids brought in things from menus to maps to magazines. We created all sorts of fun, interesting, and powerful poetry together.

And that was that. For seventeen years, I used this example and wrote a few others.

Then, I went to today’s annual charity drive assembly. Our school holds a big fund raising campaign between Thanksgiving and Winter Break. We have contributed to causes ranging from children with cancer to congenital heart defects to helping soldiers in Africa. This year’s charity helps disabled people engage in athletic activities.

The assembly began with our student council leaders. They talked about why they picked this group: the Great Lakes Adaptive Sports Association. They introduced the director and she spoke. Then a local mother of a child told her story.

Then they introduced the man in the wheelchair who had been sitting up front beside the podium: J.J. O’Connor. I recognized the name right away, but I wasn’t sure. I whispered to the teacher sitting next to me, “I wonder if he was paralyzed playing hockey.” Sure enough.

It was him: the boy in the article, seventeen years later. He found me. How unlikely! I was amazed.

I ran to my office and retrieved the poem. I couldn’t find the actual article until the end of the day. I got a copy of the poem and rushed back to the assembly, but it was almost time for my next class, so I left the auditorium as the assembly ended. I told my students about it, and they asked, “Why didn’t you go tell him?” My answer was simple, “Because I needed to come to class with you!”

I saw one of the student leaders after school, and he told me that J.J. O’Connor will be at the big charity benefit this Sunday. I’ll be there. I’ll bring the article, and the poem – and my thanks and admiration. I’ll find him again. How poetic!

The Vacation Before the Vacation

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Absent,

I am sorry we missed Marcus right before Thanksgiving break – and winter break – and spring break. I hope your trips were everything you hoped. I have attached our daily class agendas, assignment sheets, homework, and handouts.

When my children were in elementary and middle school, I remember being very frustrated just before holidays. It seemed like the day or even the week before breaks was filled with parties, movies, and non-academic fluff. I wish that were the case in high school. Unfortunately, it is quite the reverse. We barely have enough time to cover the curriculum.

In high school, we do our really need every moment. In fact, instead of showing Finding Nemo seven times, students frequently have major assignments, tests, or other assessments due right before or after the breaks. Part of this is due to where these holidays land on the school calendar. Thanksgiving is almost the mid-point of the second quarter. Winter break comes only two weeks before final exams and the end of the semester. Spring break usually marks the end of third quarter. It is highly probable that Marcus will have several tests, papers, projects, and presentations during the days immediately preceding each of these major school holidays.

I’ve heard that flights and hotels are cheaper before the holiday. It is so much nicer at the resort when it isn’t so crowded. I can fully understand why you are so eager to get away. I wish I could join you. Marcus is fortunate to get that extra time. Rest assured that, even if Marcus is traveling instead of being in class, the other students are still learning– just without Marcus. I am sure Marcus will eventually catch up. He will have to either turn in work prior to leaving or make up work upon returning. Some teachers will also assign homework over the break, so please remind Marcus to do that as well. Although this might be stressful and difficult, no doubt the trip will provide the necessary relaxation.

I am hopeful that Marcus can figure out the material without the instruction I provide in class. The activities and experiences in class would make his learning easier, but I am sure you can help him, and there must be some resources at the resort. You probably did something vaguely similar to our unit of study when you were in school twenty or thirty years ago, so you are well prepared to assist your child.

And Marcus was so good at being proactive before his absences. It is fortunate that I overheard him talking to the other students. I am sure Marcus will be just as responsible when making up work after the vacation. I believe he is missing a few days on that end, too. Right? I will send those additional materials, but Marcus has already told me that there may or may not be an Internet connection at your resort. Besides, who likes to do homework on the beach?

As we approach the end of the marking period, I will be in touch about Marcus’s grade. No one likes that kind of surprise. By the way, Marcus is still missing work from his prior absences due to his doctor’s appointments, soccer tournaments, and that extra special trip downtown.

Have a wonderful holiday, enjoy the beach, and please help Marcus learn the skills listed on the daily agenda!

Yours truly,

Mr. Hirsch 

100 Essays Later

In May, 2009, I published my first blog entry. I’d been journaling for many years prior to starting the blog, and I wrote both fiction and non-fiction in various forms for much of my adult life. My blog, however, was my foray into making my writing regularly available to an unknown readership. It was scary and exciting. It was a brand new experience.

Although this is technically my 102^nd posting, it is my 100^th piece of writing. I have written 100 short pieces about topics from education to parenting, manners to technology. Why am I still doing it? I ask myself that about twice a month!

When I started this blog, it was an experiment. I have never actively promoted it beyond posts on Facebook and Twitter. I have received positive and constructive feedback, which I have found useful and rewarding. I titled my first entry, “ Talking to Each Other, Talking to Myself.” This blog is as much a writing practice platform for me as it has been a publishing vehicle.

And now, 100 pieces later, I am debating going further. This blog has been a great way for me to keep my writing skills sharp. I teach writing. I evaluate writing. I should write, too – right? People are reading my writing, even if it is only a handful of my friends and family. That is fine with me.

However, if I am to “put myself out there” and play with the grown-ups, I should go further. That is a little scary. I don’t know what will happen. I know I will encounter more discussion and dissent. How does one “promote” one’s blog? That is a research question I need to explore. I have a difficult enough time preparing two entries a month. How much time will “selling” the blog take?

So you see why I have been so comfortable keeping things the way they are. To paraphrase Captain Picard, I need to give myself a kick in my complacency. It is time to move forward and boldly go where my blog has not gone before.

In addition to my usual two posts a month, I am going to try to include more short posts. I will try to share links, articles, videos, photos, and other related topics. At first, you may only see one of these a month. Give me time to make this a new habit.

I don’t know how to move my little neighborhood blog into the wider web world. If you have suggestions, I am open to them. Researching the project is at the top of my free time list.

Blogging has continued to be a great way for me to articulate my thoughts and clarify my views. This cross between public journal and opinion column has been and will continue to be my primary format.

I have not been too strident. I have expressed political views, but I have worked hard to be diplomatic and muted. That is another choice I am reevaluating. What do you think? After 100 essays about the topics listed on the right, I am ready to explore new avenues and ideas.

This piece of writing has asked more questions than it answered. It is more of a reflection than a statement.

Dear reader, thank you for journeying with me this far, and I beg your patience, indulgence, and collaboration on the road ahead! On to the next 100 posts!

Here's What's Wrong With Averaged Grades!

This chart presents the problem with averaged grades clearly:

This chart is part of a slide presentation created by the Muscatine (Iowa) Community School District that proposes a much better system of reporting students' learning. 

Learning with Computers: Chromebooks in my Classroom

Recently, schools all over the nation have been giving students their own computers: iPads, laptops, Chromebooks, or similar devices. Why do this? What does it mean for education and for these kids?

While some would like to keep our children and our educational system in amber and stop time, it is neither possible nor healthy. Regardless about how we feel about the digital age, it is our children’s home. We may wax sentimental about our own school days, but our experiences have less and less in common with present day students.

In short, it is irresponsible for educators to do anything less than get on this train. If we don’t, we leave ourselves, our students, and our communities behind, watching those on board bullet into the future. We live in a web infused, computer driven, technological world; our children must be ready for it.

So I signed on! For the past five weeks, my students have had their own devices: a Samsung Chromebook. I have been teaching for nearly thirty years, and using computers as a tool for almost as long. Yet, this month has given me a taste of the marriage of education and technology.

In the past, my Freshman English classes would make periodic trips to the computer lab. The computers were primarily for two purposes: writing and research. Technology was simply a replacement for typewriters and card catalogs.

Now, when my students arrive in my classroom, they retrieve these small laptop-like computers from a cart in the corner. It is a lightweight window to the web. It doesn’t have programs or applications on it. It has almost no storage. It can do one thing: connect to the web via the Google Chrome browser. It has transformed my classroom and is slowly doing the same to my students’ education.

I did research and received a little bit of training in the use of the equipment and in the pedagogical issues that came with it. I did my own reading and research. I had some hopes, goals, and questions when bringing this tool into my classroom. Yet, I am learning on the job.

My first goal was to enhance the goals that I already had for my students: teach them to become better readers, writers, speakers, listeners, and thinkers; to make them more effective communicators and critical thinkers; to engender a love of literature and language. It was my hope that daily technology would open up new avenues to reach these objectives.

I want to increase student independence and autonomy. I want to see if we can help students manage and direct their own learning more effectively. I want to teach students to help each other learn.

And of course there is the obvious: I want students to learn how to use the web and other technological tools to reach the targets I have listed above. Their smart phones, tablets, computers, and cameras can be far more than entertainment devices; they can use these tools for growth and good.

The addition of technology to my classroom also raised concerns: Will the focus be too much on the technology, and not so much on the processes that the technology should facilitate? Is the Chromebook a good choice for my students? Are there new technology skills that I must add to my curriculum to make sure that kids can use these tools in a productive and safe way? Will I see benefits commensurate with the time and effort it takes to adjust to this new world?

It has only been a month, and I am discovering, changing, and figuring out the new landscape. It is a lot of work. Lesson planning is taking far more time than it has in the past. I would be foolish if I didn’t use this blog to think aloud about what is going on in my classroom. Stay tuned for the continuing drama of Chromebooks in Freshman English!

Driving Away

My younger child is learning how to drive. He has taken traffic safety classes, behind the wheel lessons, and is driving our family vehicles – under supervision, of course. We dread it and look forward to it at the same time.

I have very clear memories of my experience learning to drive. I didn’t take private traffic safety class. I started the second semester of sophomore year. It was January. When we got to school in the morning, it was cold but clear. During class, we drove around the back parking lot learning how to handle the car. I didn’t really push too hard on the gas pedal. I had my ten minutes and sat in the back while my classmates took their turns.

Sometime around lunch, it snowed. It snowed a lot and kept on snowing. My brother and I were in a theatre production, so we stayed after school for rehearsal. By the time my father arrived to pick us up, the snow was several inches deep and still falling; it was a snowstorm.

I slid into the passenger seat and my brother went into the back of the car, “I bet Dave would like to drive home,” he teased. My father looked at me, “Would you?” I shrugged, “Let me put it to you this way: I have pressed the accelerator twice.” With that, my father got out of the car and walked around to my door. I traded places with him and drove home.

Our five-minute drive took twenty minutes. My father said very little. He made some very calm suggestions and pretty much just let me drive. From that moment on, if I got into a car, I drove it. My parents instructed me gently, calmly, and in a manner that demonstrated that they had the greatest confidence in me.

Unlike my father, I have the benefit of already having taught a child to drive. I rode with both my daughter and my niece as they learned to drive. In both cases, my calm and supportive parents were my models.

Driving is our ultimate symbol of independence and power. It is frightening to parents for good reason. Let no one make fun of drivers education teachers. It is difficult enough to sit next to one’s own children when they are learning to drive. It must take stomachs of iron to teach other people’s kids!

My daughter and niece are good drivers, and my son is getting there. We moved slowly at first: starting in a parking lot, graduating to quiet neighborhood streets, and then Sunday mornings on major roads eventually heading to the highway. And there are moments: the overturns as we bump the curb, the near misses of parked vehicles, the turns into traffic that are saved by the good driving and graciousness of strangers.

Yet how we approach teaching our children to drive speaks so strongly about how we see our relationship. Handing my son the keys to the car is not only tremendous because he can now do damage on a grand scale, but because it communicates a host of messages. It says that I trust him. It says that I want him to be fully adult and independent. It says that is it okay to drive independently from those who love you. It is literally letting go.

And I don’t like letting go. I like control and I prefer my kids close. But this isn’t about me. This is about teaching my children that it is time take the wheel. Often while we are driving, my son asks me, “Which way should I go?” My answer is always the same, “You are the driver. You decide.”

Home(work) for the Holidays

“Teacher, I didn’t do my homework because…..” Every teacher has rolled his or her eyes at this line. However, there are times when school should accommodate the rest of students’ lives. Perhaps a dog’s wayward eating habits do not qualify, but what about religious holidays?

The Jewish High Holidays just ended, and my community has a significant number of Jewish families. Each year about this time, our assistant principal sends an email to teachers asking them “not to schedule assessments or major projects on the days immediately following Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur, as many students will be unable to properly prepare due to family & religious obligations.” The assistant principal sends out similar notices for Easter, Ramadan, and a handful of other holidays.

It doesn’t matter.

Students report that they have quizzes, tests, and significant homework assignments due immediately following the High Holidays. When families are going to services, family gatherings, or traveling to be with relatives, time is tight. So the choice is to either participate in family and religious events or do homework.

I overheard two staff members talking in the teacher workroom.  One complained that his practice schedule was altered on the evenings before the holidays. He said that he made it clear to his athletes that it was okay if they needed to miss that practice or leave early. The second coach said something astute and sensitive: kids don’t want to disappoint the coach (or teacher). Although the practice may be noted as “optional,” kids fear that will reflect badly on them or cost them a chance at participating in the next contest.

The same scenario played out academically. As a teacher noted that his students were reporting lots of homework and tests the day after Rosh Hashanah, another teacher stated he made it clear that, if students were not able to get the work done, they just should tell him and he’d adjust their activities in class. But kids don’t like doing that. This teacher did note that few students had ever actually done this. I was not surprised.

I just learned that one coach had scheduled a field trip on the Sunday following Yom Kippur. The kids reported that it was “mandatory.” Given that some kids travel to celebrate the holiday, and Sunday after Yom Kippur is the primary day to get all that work done, this “field trip” was ill timed and insensitive.

School does not happen in a vacuum. There are many priorities competing for a child’s attention: activities, work, family, health, not to mention the emotional drama that is unfortunately part of many of our children’s lives. But none of that matters when we have to get through unit seven!

I am disappointed in some of my colleagues. Yes, it takes a little more planning and creativity to find a way to make a schedule work during the fall Jewish holidays – or the spring holidays when Easter and Passover come at nearly the same time. But it is important that we do so.

Kids do need to partner with their teachers. Students need to use assignment sheets to plan in advance. They can approach teachers and point out problems before they become issues. However, the adults have to give them these tools. If the test is announced on the Wednesday before Rosh Hashanah, the student has been put in an untenable position – and it is the teacher’s fault!

It is important that we acknowledge that school, specifically homework, is only one of many priorities for students when they leave the classroom. We can help kids manage the “crunch” times, whether they are religious holidays, the play, or playoffs. It is critical to teach them ways to juggle their lives outside of school and stay engaged in their studies. It is a give and take, and teachers need to be better at giving.

Tears at the Airport

“Don’t cry in front of your child,” was the advice a friend gave me. And I didn’t when we dropped our daughter off for her freshman year of college about a year ago. I had more than a few tears after we left the dorm. I had a rough time on the flight back home. And then I got used to the new situation, video chats, text messages, and visits every two or three months.

But this year it is different.

My daughter just left for Africa. This time, she will be away for four months and there will be no visiting. This time, she is in a foreign country far away from the familiar. This time, she is really on her own. This excites her, and it scares me.

She is capable, smart, and strong. I am very confident that she will be able to cope with the challenges ahead of her. I know that some of them will be significant, and some will be “growing experiences.” My fear is not rational. It is not about her; it is about me.

My daughter’s semester abroad is so much more than an extended vacation. A majority of the students we know study aboard in more conventional locations. Had she chosen to study in Europe, the weight of the distance would probably have been less. Maybe. Since she is traveling to a part of the world that is very different and very distant, it means that she is more on her own than she has ever been before. And I am less in contact and control.

Yes, I think that is what this is about. This is about the ever-present parachute, even when she is two hours away by plane. I could come to her rescue if she needed me. I could sweep in and play powerful parent. I haven’t done that. She hasn’t needed it. But I could. It is possible. Not this semester.

We want to protect our children. We want to shield them from emotional or physical harm. We don’t want to keep them in a bubble, but we don’t want scars or scares. I don’t know that this impulse ever goes away. I can’t imagine ever losing it. Yet, I must suppress it.

I cried at the airport when we dropped her off. We all cried at home before we left. I cried on the way home, too. And every so often an irrational fear hits me, and I have to fight that feeling.

There are many parenting turning points. Many seem to be related to increasing the distance between parents and children. They are about putting our children in the very positions we worked so hard to keep them from; placing them in harm’s way, stepping back, swallowing our anxiety, and letting them protect themselves.

And we want that. Right?

Yes, I want that. She is more than ready for it. She can do it, and I am going to have to step back, shut up, and let her go. Besides, she is in Africa.

Yet, I am not ready to let go, and that’s tough luck, because she is on her way. And I am crying.

Back in the Salad Again

My school has a distinctive smell. I know the smell. It is the “school without kids in it yet” scent. It is the anticipation smell. It is the smell of possibility. I love going to school in the weeks before students arrive. I photocopy and decorate my classrooms. I get all the things I have packed away and pull them out again.

There are sad moments as well, as I realize that I won’t have last year’s groups. I miss them. I am delighted when familiar faces appear in the halls, and when new faces become familiar.

Getting ready to go back to school may be one of the most difficult transitions of the year. But transitions are one of the things that make being a teacher so joyful. Teaching is about working with people over time. Teaching is about change and embraces the transitions. We go. We go back. And each time we go back, we are all in a different place. Each time I enter my classroom, there are different children. Even day-to-day, my students grow, change, and develop. It is a beautiful and wonderful process.

It has been a good summer, and I have loved almost every minute of it. I am almost ready to return, and I am getting myself there. Recently, I got a glimpse of my class lists. Many of the kids I know. Many I know somewhat. Most I don’t know at all. I am excited to get to know them well. I am eager to learn with them.

New students and new things to study! I have rarely taught the same course for more than a few years in a row. It doesn’t matter much, because my lessons are never the same. In order to keep up with the kids, the lessons must change, too. Each summer I fuss with my curriculum. This summer, I gave one of my classes quite an overhaul. It is very different than it was last year. While there are texts I have taught for many years, they turn out very differently with each group of students. When I meet a class, I learn about them as individuals and a group. Even different sections of the same course end up with different lessons. They must! I need to tailor the course to the kids.

A few years ago, I was given a Freshman English class that was all male. No girls. I made a few adjustments in the texts (For example, I had been teaching A Midsummer’s Nights Dream; I went back to Romeo and Juliet), and then many adaptations to activities and lesson structures. The group needed more small group work, more physical movement, and this group loved reading aloud and enacting literature. So that’s what we did.

And once I get to know the kids, I can help them grow in new directions. Neither their strengths nor their struggles should be their prisons. I try to help students understand their current skill level and then teach them how to improve (or develop) those skills.

It is wonderful to reconnect with my colleagues. I have seen a few of them over the summer at workshops and meetings as well as at social events. Being away from each other for a little while lets me see them anew. There are new things to share: an engagement, a pregnancy, a new degree, a new home, and, of course, a new school year.

It is all thrown together: new kids, new tales, old colleagues with new news, updated curriculum, and all the energy and activity of the start of school. To twist the old Roy Rogers song, “I’m back in the salad again,” – and delighted to be there!

A Warning to College Profs from a High School Teacher

Educational reform has run amok in the United States. Our current education “programs” are destroying our children’s learning. This article articulates this beautifully. Please take a look:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/answer-sheet/wp/2013/02/09/a-warning-to-college-profs-from-a-high-school-teacher/

The College Journey Continues: A Partially Empty Nest

The house is quiet. My daughter is at college. My son is at camp. We have quick visits with my daughter on special weekends and winter break. Since she is doing college in three years, she does not come home for the summer. We have video chats, text messages, emails, and phone calls a few times a week. Soon, she leaves for Africa. My son lives here, but increasingly has his own schedule that depends less and less on his parents. Right now he, too, is away. Even when he is home, he only one wing in the nest.

I am adjusting to how much I see, or don’t see, my children. It is the right amount, but it is not what I would choose. I am fighting the over-parenting impulse. It isn’t easy.  

My busy life is distracting, and I have my own activities. Most of the time, I do not focus on the fact that my daughter is far away. Yet, she is on my mind. Frequently. When I see the blur that is my son, I must resist the urge to reach out and stop him!

My friends whose children have left the house say that, although they too missed their children initially, they came to really enjoy their empty nest. I am not there yet. I am delighted that my younger child still has a few years before college. And maybe I can’t fully appreciate the quiet with a child still living at home. Maybe I don’t want to.  

I am becoming a long distance parent. I am learning to hug via FaceTime. I am figuring out what it means to send a pithy text message with an emoticon to convey my feelings.

I will not keep my children dependent and sheltered. I do not want them to remain “children.”  However, I do want them to remain. This is really about our changing roles. This is about accepting and embracing my new role when I have been so comfortable and happy in the old one.

And this is about letting go. Having loved ones far away is challenging. I liked our relationship when the kids were younger. It didn’t need fixing or “time off.” I am still mourning that relationship, and working on liking the new version. It is where the relationship must go next to stay healthy. I know that. I am just not there yet.

That is what I keep telling myself. This is the right move. This is good for them. This is the natural way. I know this is only partially true. Many kids go to college closer to home. Some separate regardless of physical distance. Some stay very close (sometimes too close) when they are even farther away.

And my children are capable! They can handle problems without me. They do not need their father to rush to their rescue. I am not their only resource for assistance, and they are good at coming to me (or other people) when they need help.

As I face the reality of my children making their own “nests” and living a majority of their lives apart from me, I am living a kind of adolescence. My daughter is not a full-fledged adult out of the house. My son will soon have his driver’s license and need my help even less. But I have not full launched them into the world. This is a trial period; a training time. We are all learning and figuring out how this works. I hope we’ll get the hang of it by the time the nest is really empty and our younger child departs for college.

Winning Plays

I am not a sports person. As a child, my athletic experiences were painful, humiliating, and drenched in sweat. However, I married a coach and an athlete and, unsurprisingly, our children have been involved in performing arts and athletics. When my younger child was waffling about soccer, I even became a coach for a few seasons.

There is a stark difference in the quality of my children’s experiences in theatre and sports. With few exceptions, my children’s experience on high school teams has been uneven and often frustrating and painful. They have loved their time working on plays and musicals. The key difference is the adults in charge. Whether it is a play, music ensemble, or athletic team, there are a few critical strategies that “coaches” can take so it is a healthy and positive experience for all kids.  

Be inclusive: The kids in the theatre are molded into a company. Every student has a job and is actively involved - even if a stagehand only places a prop or a “spear carrier” says only, “dinner is served.” If a student is chosen to be on the team, that student must do more than practice. While I have some qualms with the value, I understand that, at the varsity level, high school sports are about winning. For other levels, inclusion, the development of skills, and time on the field must be valued at least as much as victory. 

Build community: The track team at our school is remarkably close. Kids in theatre productions make new friends that extend beyond the boundaries of the show. There is a reason for this. The adults in charge help kids develop deep and meaningful relationships with each other. To them, kids are far more than chess pieces in a game. They create experiences in rehearsal and practice that allow kids to go beyond the superficial and break down “clique” barriers. That has never happened for my children on their teams and has been a consistent high spot in their experiences on stage.

Treat kids with respect and caring: Both of my kids believed that their coaches didn’t really care about them. With only one exception, my children neither liked their coaches nor thought that their coaches liked them. Their relationship was strictly business. In one case, my child feared her coach. My children cherish their relationships with the adults in theatre. Community is built on relationships. In theatre, kids get the message that their participation matters. The technical director and stage director get to know kids. They learn who they are beyond the show. This takes time, but more importantly, it takes adults who really want to connect deeply with kids. I know there are coaches, sponsors, and directors who fit this mold. 

Strike a balance between the needs of the individual and needs of the group: “There is no I in team.” There is no “I” in theatre either. The fact is that kids are individuals. They are not robots who subsume themselves in the collective. They are part of a team (or company), but they are also multidimensional people. They have families, other interests, and unique qualities. It pains me that my children had to sign up for special lessons and participate in club sports to be able to make the cut for teams. Many of my children’s teammates do nothing other than one or two sports. Specialization is what is required to compete. This is sad. I want my children to play sports. I also want them to play musical instruments, participate in clubs, go to youth group, and explore many activities.

Foster kids’ success: As a teacher, I work hard to help every student succeed. Every child in a production has a role to play. My children have been frustrated in sports because they did not have the opportunity to succeed. Furthermore, they didn’t feel like the coach was their ally. The coach was a critic, who more often than not gave them a thumbs down.

Our theatre program has a motto: The most important thing is how we treat each other. Can we treat kids in a more humane and caring way? Can inclusion and the development of skills sit side by side with competition? Winning means more than scoring: it is about the quality of kids’ experiences.

Summer Guilt

“So what are you doing this summer?”

I am asked this question daily. I didn’t choose to be a teacher for summer break, but it is a wonderful benefit. When people ask me what I am doing, I often feel my answers don’t measure up.

I have my stock responses: I do about 80% of my lesson planning over the summer. I take workshops and classes. My wife and I travel. I spend a great deal of time schlepping my children and going to their activities and sports. We have quality family time. Yet, that doesn’t feel like enough. I do that during the school year.

I should say something like, “I am building homes for the poor, writing a book about literacy, running two marathons, reroofing my home, and teaching summer school to disadvantaged students – and that’s only July!” I feel guilty that my summer is not justified with productive and generous activities.

The truth is I like summer because it is not overstuffed and moves at a leisurely pace. It is the opposite of the rest of my year. Instead of the frantic early morning rush, I savor the slow slide from morning wake up to workout. I love making and enjoying breakfast rather than rushing through it. I get to say, “yes” to social engagements, special events, and last minute jaunts. My summer is not frenzied like the rest of my year, like the rest of my life!

So now I feel even guiltier. Not only do I get summer break, it is enjoyable and relaxed! I think, “others get a few weeks of vacation, and I get a whole summer.” That isn’t fair. Everyone should get to enjoy this kind of change of pace.

There are the stock rationalizations: my job as a teacher is different than other professions, but we know the truth about that. Everyone’s job has stress from clients and bosses, homework, legislative demands, non-air-conditioned work places, underfunded budgets, and restless teenagers (and their parents). Every job has its unique challenges and perks. We’re all in the same classroom –right?

I am a parent as well as a teacher. As a parent, summer is a joyous gift! I get to go full time with my family. I have the time to sit through long baseball games (and not grade quizzes at the same time), bring kids off to the pool, or take time to do whatever my children want. My kids and I share this calendar, and that may be my favorite thing about summer.

So how do I alleviate my summer guilt? I make long lists and do everything on them. All those home task, special projects, and school tasks that didn’t fit into the regular year finally find have my attention. Summer for me is not totally free – but unlike the rest of the year, I am in control of my schedule.

Summer is my crazy profession’s antidote. Maybe someday, we’ll find a way to make both teachers’ and students’ lives more balanced throughout the year. We won’t have the summer binge and the  school-year purge. I wouldn’t bet your vacation on that happening soon.

Someday, I’d like to take the summer off completely. I’d like to have a summer free from lesson planning, workshops, and schoolwork. One summer, I’d like to lose my to-do list. But that has another name: retirement. And my retirement is not that far away. Then I will really feel guilty!  

INTO DARKNESS is STAR TREK Lite

“Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.” – Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

I have seen the new Star Trek movie, Into Darkness three times. I continue to enjoy it, and it continues to bother me. While the movie makes strong and important statements, and clearly captures the Star Trek characters and their relationships, it also baffles both the neophyte and long time Trekker with problems and inconsistencies. As with the prior film, it sacrifices substance for spectacle. Most of all, it reveals that its creators care more about the trappings of Star Trek than about what makes Trek meaningful.

Spoiler warning: the discussion that follows assumes you either have seen the movie or do not care if important elements are revealed.

The commentary on September 11^th and the statement that we must be true to our ideals seem like  good starts.  The “darkness” that our characters encounter is the journey into the woods bringing maturity, responsibility, and character. The conflict between warriors and explorers in Starfleet is a concept that could have had more airtime in earlier stories. These themes are worthy of Trek.

Unfortunately, they are thin icing on the cake. They are not important elements of the film. The problems are clear from the first moments of the movie. Why hide a starship underwater when keeping it in space keeps it out of sight more effectively? If Spock can be beamed out of an erupting volcano, why can’t the device to stop the volcano be beamed in? Most importantly, why are our characters interfering with a developing culture? While the original series broke this rule several times, it always did so as a means of exploring a significant issue. There is no issue here. There is no reason to break the Federations’ most important law. The characters give lip service to the problem, but there is no substantive exploration at all. The starship rising from the water and the fiery volcano are the focus.

Not only does Kirk not value the prime directive, he lies about his actions in his report, and believes that he will get chosen for a special mission because he is the captain of the fanciest ship. If we are trying to establish Kirk as an immature and cocky copy of Han Solo, it works. But that isn’t Kirk and that isn’t Starfleet. It doesn’t make sense.

Admiral Pike’s anger at Kirk rings true. The smug response from Kirk and Spock is humorous because it does not. Kirk’s quick return to a powerful position shows that Starfleet doesn’t take the Prime Directive seriously either. Even with a warmongering Dick Cheney-like admiral at the helm, it is difficult to swallow.

Then there is Kahn. Like “red matter” in the prior film, Kahn’s blood is a plot device. However, it is more difficult to take a second time. Good science fiction is based on science and must remain believable and consistent. The use of Kahn’s blood throughout the picture not only telegraphs the ending, but trivializes the sacrifice that we know is coming. Whether or not Kirk knows that there is a miracle cure doesn’t matter. We do. The situation is contrived and predictable and does not have the elegance or truth of the original. It is yet another theme tossed out without development or substance.

Like the first film, we have a single villain out for revenge. Like the first film, the Enterprise is defeated by a super ship. The first film killed Kirk’s father and this one kills his surrogate father. This second “new” Star Trek feels like a rerun, like the filmmakers have only one note they can play.

But it isn’t only Star Trek XI (2009) that gets recycled. The film riffs Star Trek II: The Wrath Of Kahn. The repeated lines and reversals at the end seem to be no more than Trek trivia. Both Alice Eve’s underwear and Leonard Nimoy’s cameo are gratuitous. And much though I got a kick out of seeing Kirk in bed with not one, but two versions of Lieutenant M’Ress, that too was fun for its trivial value and did not contribute at all to the heart of the matter – if the matter has a heart.

Into Darkness is stuffed full of Star Trek furnishings but it feels like dress up.  It reveals that its creators see only the superficialities of Trek. This isn’t about canon. I can live in a galaxy without Vulcan. This is about being faithful to both the ideas and the audience. This is about writing honestly and consistently. This is about honoring the science part of science fiction. This is about digging deeper than props, costumes, and pretty pictures. Star Trek at its best takes an important idea and dramatically confronts its complexity.

Into Darkness is Star Trek’s shadow. It is an echo of Treks past. It is fun and exciting nostalgia. It is mediocre science fiction. It is Star Wars masquerading as Star Trek. Let’s hope that the third picture doesn’t have this trouble, and can delve deeper and ring more true to Gene Roddenberry’s values and methods.

Summer’s Here and the Time is Right for Dancing in the Tweet

In my English classes, one student takes notes every period. S/he records what we do, the assignments, and the handouts and materials we used. This student also gives me feedback on the lesson, and records some impressions. At the end of class, our note-taker chooses one idea, thought, or summary statement to share with the world on our class Twitter account.

I have not included every tweet from the year. Go here if you want to see all of them from all three classes. Instead, here is an edited list that gives a flavor of my 2012-2013 school year.

• ·      First tweet of the year: write on the walls!
• ·      Got started on a great year!
• ·      The writing expedition begins.
• ·      I saw a bug!
• ·      Effective techniques of readers
• ·      After discussing our awesome names, we are going to have a great weekend!
• ·      Learning how to annotate a paper.
• ·      What do Dennis the Menace, Hemingway, and Hamlet have in common?
• ·      My Father's Voice! Woohoo!
• ·      Pretty table brightens the whole room!
• ·      Mind your p's and q's! #grammargirl
• ·      We made curry!
• ·      What helps and hinders discussion?
• ·      Two words...dashes, essays           
• ·      What happened to Jenna Fox?
• ·      #Worstcollegeessays
• ·      Why won't http://turnitin.com load?           
• ·      Loud means "I need help" not "tell me to be quiet."
• ·      A quote sandwich with cheese.
• ·      Zim, zir, z's drive me crazy!
• ·      Imagery is the key and focus is the lock to a great essay!
• ·      There was no lunch period today, so we ate quote sandwiches.
• ·      Solo synchronized swimming! Now can I kill the bunny?
• ·      Jenna is a toaster.
• ·      Twinkle, Twinkle, Blessed House
• ·      Cranky old lonely people.
• ·      Is she human?
• ·      Do the "write" thing
• ·      :( What is the answer to the puzzle?
• ·      It's like musical chairs, but with quote sandwiches.
• ·      Sexy is our big winner! #surprising
• ·      The English teacher felt odd after being fired: it was post grammatic stress syndrome.
• ·      Flirt outside of class.
• ·      Star Wars or Star Trek? Star Trek, of course!
• ·      The interpreter of interpretations.
• ·      Shift happens.
• ·      Frame by frame.
• ·      Updating your daughter.
• ·      Telepathic check!
• ·      Red rover, red rover, let us come over!
• ·      The phone farted!
• ·      You only have one body, unless you are Jenna Fox.
• ·      You married your mom and your children are your siblings.
• ·      Everyone wave to the tomato!
• ·      A prophecy always comes true.
• ·      Too many books! Which do we choose?
• ·      Hurricane Sandy can’t stop us!
• ·      Happy Halloween, Antigone!
• ·      Deconstructing our essays.
• ·      Where is Hamlet?
• ·      It’s okay to show up late to the play.
• ·      A foil is an important literary tool, it's also great for wrapping up food!
• ·      Another day, another essay…
• ·      Wei Chen, the wingman!
• ·      I want it that way.
• ·      #Rockets Back dorm boys
• ·      Explicating Creed
• ·      What’s the truth behind the disappearance of Chris Creed? Will we ever know? Hi Mom! We know how to English!
• ·      Greasers, detective work, “you should dump him.”
• ·      Don't lean back on rolling chairs!
• ·      Research project 2012
• ·      Drinking, fencing, swearing, quarreling, drabbing galore!
• ·      To be or not to be?
• ·      Acceptance is…
• ·      Mock quiz!
• ·      Hamlet..put on hold for now.
• ·      Tasty cakes and kinder. #hashtag
• ·      Process paper fun!
• ·      Thesis - pass it on.
• ·      How can you REsearch even before you have searched before?
• ·      Chris Creed takes Facebook! #facebook
• ·      And then there were none.
• ·      Let's kill Hamlet!           
• ·      Psycho psychic!
• ·      We can have a pep talk and have cupcakes for finals.
• ·      Bob Haines? Creed suspense level #increasing!
• ·      Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Charlie Brown.
• ·      Four year planning!
• ·      He's alive! Chris Creed is Torey Adams? It's all so confusing!
• ·      More and more research! #lungevity
• ·      We talked about safety and taking care of each other. #sandyhook
• ·      Presentations finished! (Well...almost).
• ·      Theses rhymes with feces.
• ·      Revise, revise, revise!
• ·      We have to memorize fifteen lines?
• ·      Write in Yoda speak, you should not.
• ·      Santa is dead now. #happyholidays
• ·      Taking to walls!
• ·      Book circles! #yah!
• ·      I like my book!
• ·      Everybody get an ARC conference. #finals
• ·      Field trip to learn about English electives.
• ·      Shakespeare = death
• ·      Ransom note poetry and Romeo and Juliet!
• ·      Translucent stilettos hoard!
• ·      Line and stanzas versus sentences and paragraphs. Posts and Facebook versus tweets and Twitter.
• ·      Don't be a Charles!
• ·      Meet Queen Mab!
• ·      Poetry Out Loud!
• ·      Romeo and Juliet field trip <3 span="">
• ·      Marwage, marwage is what bwings us together, today.
• ·      #Mountains beyond mountains beyond mountains beyond mountains beyond
• ·      Translations + lockdown #scary #silence
• ·      All humor comes from body fluids #onlyinenglishclass
• ·      The four point (icon) challenge.
• ·      ziuq drawkcaB           
• ·      How we know you are texting: nobody looks at their crotch and smiles.
• ·      We should invest in snare drums for all these puns!
• ·      In class essay, woo hoo!
• ·      Is this a kissing movie?
• ·      So much poison!
• ·      Thesis! Thesis! Thesis!
• ·      Romeo and Juliet is being rewritten by a lot of people!
• ·      Pondered the answer to questions of life.
• ·      Time for graduation...speeches!
• ·      Field Trip to Romeo and Juliet!
• ·      Do good grad speeches. Don't blame the traffic lights. P.S. Don't miss the musical.
• ·      Tell us when to wear good pants for re-read.
• ·      Mr. Scott did it!
• ·      How to not be a nervous-nilly.
• ·      Drawing Tale!
• ·      Research senior project properly: Don't waste time!
• ·      My boots are dirty!
• ·      Good FAQs are the key to success! #seniorproject
• ·      We love thunderstorms!
• ·      Why would Mr. Hirsch want essays without names on them?
• ·      It's not a tale of two cities, it's about two cities at different times. #Ilovelucie
• ·      French revolution fun and topping it off with character chart chaos.
• ·      We all shared one Google Doc! #taleoftwocites
• ·      Essay 1, Episode 3: Return of the King!
• ·      Let's play hang lamp!
• ·      Experiential learning is fun!
• ·      "Crunching" out more mysteries! #punintended
• ·      Wish I was here for Senior Symposium - looks awesome!
• ·      Blog post and learning activities. Kapish?
• ·      Never ending Tale...
• ·      Senior presentation: a slideway to hell!
• ·      People don't kill people, sneezes kill people. #knitting
• ·      The end is near! #seniorproject
• ·      Keep calm and blog/write/read/analyze on; who actually reads this...? Help! I'm trapped in an English class!
• ·      Cly is sly!
• ·      "It was the best of times..." No... It wasn't.
• ·      Goodbye Cara! We will miss you :(
• ·      Tale Day tomorrow!
• ·      #getreadyforfinals #lastdayoffreshmanenglish We'll miss you Mr. Hirsch!
• ·      Tweet review! Course and teacher evaluation.
• ·      Last day of class! :(