NCTE Reflection, Part I

As a new teacher, I fancy myself an expert at being overwhelmed. I find myself inundated most days with involuntary illusions of industry (if it's wrong of me to alliterate so copiously, I don't want to be right). In other words, I make a strong effort to become as busy as possible because I feel obligated to do so in order to meet: deadlines, potential, standards, personal goals and professional contacts. I use the word "illusion" merely to imply that not every inch of ink I intend to write is invaluable to or interned by others, but in an introspective state I might consider their worth infinitely. Okay, I promise to stop alliterating now; the wrong person could do a character count and measure my "Is" and conclude I'm a bit selfish.

As incredible and infuriating as the first eleven weeks of my teaching experience have been, this weekend easily measured up. I am fortunate enough to have a district who will pay for teachers to go to local and national professional conferences. I got to fly to Philadelphia for the National Council of Teachers of English 2009 Annual Convention with several staff members. I was excited to see Julie Andrews and Pulitzer Prize winner Junot Diaz more than anything. I ran out and bought The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao and immersed myself in its half-page footnotes. A little kid inside of me sang "Spoonful of Sugar" as I became giddy thinking about the celebrity of the events and people at NCTE.

Sadly, the chaos of the flight computer systems on the coast kept us from leaving Chicago O'Hare until hours after our intended departure. We missed Junot Diaz. I was mildly traumatized. I don't think it's possible to be jet-lagged from a one hour time-zone delay, but I felt a bit crabby about it. I heard through the grape vine that the only way I was meeting Julie Andrews was if I had a ticket (something I wasn't aware of how to obtain). Still, I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the Philadelphia Convention Center as well as my textbook of a program; I started to think maybe I should've brought a special backpack just to carry it.

The scope of the workshop topics rivaled the venue's square-footage easily. It may have been possible to cover every inch of convention floor with every page from every program. Every session and section offered a dizzying display of dialogue to dig into (maybe I should talk to someone about my alliteration problem, I can't seem to control it). Thankfully, the cooperative learner I've been trained to be brings sticky notes everywhere (I think of them like blog comments or social bookmarks). I cracked open the spiral-bound giant and rappelled down into it, armed with my yellow flags. Anyone who knows semaphore would know I was immediately signaling for help!

In his own post-NCTE reflection, Alan Sitomer (whom I didn't get to see speak) compares the feeling of being overwhelmed by so many "keen minds" like a post-Thanksgiving type of meal. I couldn't put it any better. Being that it was my first convention I felt like a new member in the most welcoming and exciting family on Earth. I was being given so much all the time, that I had a hard time processing it all. I'm still processing in fact (warning: virtual memory full)! Maybe next year for NCTE 100 I'll have a new netbook to cart around and I can do some mobile processing. More posts to follow dealing with more specific aspects of the convention, its topics, and their impact on my instruction and planning.

An introduction to the Missouri Educator Community

I'm glad to report we're approaching 50 members on the Ning and growing each day in membership and content. I encourage you to invite fellow staff members, principals, and directors even if they are clueless about "social media." The MEC should be a welcoming place where you can seek answers, ask questions, and browse for new sources of information.

I encourage everyone to post a blog entry, video, a picture of your classroom, or a question for discussion on the forum. If you have any questions about how to do those things feel free to email me personally (stevemoore.ed@gmail.com) or ask on the chat feature at the bottom of the Ning page.

Go and explore, join a group or start one of your own! See what your Missouri colleagues are up to and make a new connection in the Missouri Educator Community.

MissouriEd.Ning.com

Move the World? Don't Look in the Mirror...

Teachers spend a lot of my time in the minds of others. Maybe you’d call it metacognition, maybe you’d call it reflective curiosity, the title isn’t that important but it’s a habit many of us act out each day. Our students beg it of us and our departments and administrations challenge us to understand what other people are thinking. Have you ever stopped to think about what occupies your own brain?

Teaching requires a great deal of energy, just like any worthwhile task. Consider the image of Archimedes standing on a long board, moving the whole planet on his magical fulcrum. He seems to do an impossible amount of work with almost no effort! Teachers are always searching for the next fulcrum and moving their boards to stand on. We search out the possible motives of every student and their actions constantly, trying to take in and dump out as much information as possible while somehow holding onto a few meaningful motes to process and act upon. Often, we end up jumping up and down on our boards angrily, shouting obscenities at the world when all we need to do is move our focus to the fulcrum.

Motivation can be a tricky thing to track down, but if you can harness and understand what truly moves you, the Earth will move for you. You know there are a myriad other tasks you could be doing at any given time as a teacher, but how do you balance them? How do you find the energy to keep going after five hours of sleep, a twenty-minute lunch break, and screaming children terrorizing your classroom? Hopefully this is not a situation you find yourself in daily, but if it is even close to that you’re most likely wishing someone would drop a magic fulcrum in front of you already and shove you on!

I’ll tell you a secret: the magic fulcrum is in your hand.

All around you there are other teachers, administrators, and most prevalently: students. I hesitate to say, “now go forth and stand on them, they are your fulcrum!” That’s taking the metaphor a bit too far, but you can probably understand where I am taking this. The community of people you engage every day are your motivation. They can move you forward better than anyone else. Have you ever tried shoving yourself? Throwing yourself? Unless you’re Jackie Chan, most likely you’d look pretty silly if you tried. Motivation is the same way; other people hold the most potential energy, they can help you move the world.

If you want to see more great responses on staying motivated, check out the Educator’s PLN forum, the Missouri Educators Ning, my website or the Educators' Royal Treatment

Where I'm From

Sum

I am from farmers’ fields in North Dakota

From bookworms, spectacles, and tea cups

I am from chromatic scales and five-over-four jazz—

—time out.

From the front yard where the ginkgo tree grows

where the pear tree was split in two.

I am from Midwestern thunderstorms

cold in the sky with white light

I am from dark clouds that pour their hearts out

over my old silver sedan.

I am from an old brown couch,

from Gandalf the Grey and chocolate chip cookies.

I am from public radio waves,

powder milk biscuits

and the frozen chosen.

I am from faces made like Garrison, for radio.

I am from lefse and Rømmegrøt,

and the shortest branch of a Viking family tree.

I am from hard drive platters in the cloud,

electronic records, cookies, and cached data.

I am from black coffee and cold pizza—not frozen.

from the fifty yard line at half time

and “if you’re on time you’re late!”

Where We're From

To celebrate National Day on Writing, several of us had our students write a poem based on George Ella Lyon's "Where I'm From." After we listened to her read the poem, students then started to think of the powerful images from their lives. Later, we'll display some finished poems in the front hallway. (When is a poem ever finished, though? I keep changing lines in mine.)

I loved hearing a lot of great lines today—some funny, some heartbreaking—all from an emerging community of writers! Thanks, Casey, for the great idea.

Where I'm From

I am from Saturday morning cartoons,

From Love's Baby Soft in my purse, and a dog-eared copy of Forever.

I am from driving cross country in the station wagon, Glen Campbell on the eight-track,

From "Wichita Lineman" and "You've Got a Friend."

I am from the pregnant lilac bush, spilling its blooms on the grass,

From the scarlet tulips that lined our front walkway.

I am from quail breakfasts on Thanksgiving morning,

And dreamed-of tomato stands.

From Granddaddy Homer and Pearl and Jewell.

From New Year's Resolutions tucked away in the Family Bible,

From cedar chests and a Christmas ornament displayed year-round.

I am from Sunday school, youth choir, and church every time the doors were open.

From "Standing on the Promises" and "Pass it On."

I am from Christmas caroling and always singing, "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing,"

From liver cheese sandwiches and mom's famous chocolate sheet cake.

From Dad, singing in the shower,

And Mom, going to the Saturday matinees.

And the two of them writing love letters to bridge the miles.

I am from the drawers, loaded with pictures

of crazy hair and clothes we thought were cool,

that we laugh at when we're older.

Survey Sweeps! The Power of GoogleForms and your PLN

Recently, I discovered the wonderfully useful service that is GoogleForms. As a tech-enthusiast and long time Google user, I'm still not sure how I missed this in the past. Pursuing my first graduate degree means I need to take in large quantities of datum (I still think hard about the plurality of data every time I type it).

Over the past year or so, I have found absolutely incredible connections through my PLN on Twitter and Plurk. Usually I'm able to ask questions and get a few small conversations going, but mostly I end up joining larger conversations in the macroverse of social media. With GoogleForms, I have found a useful and simple way to ask pointed questions relevant to my interests in education.

Below, I'm posting links to several of my simple surveys about educational trends. Most only took a few minutes to write and post online. I was amazed at how quickly the responses piled up. A thank you in advance to anyone who fills out these surveys.

Diversity Survey

Collaboration Survey

Technology Survey

In a few weeks, I'll post all the graphica, data, and selected input from the surveys (it's all anonymous, so don't worry about your name showing up, I have no way of knowing that when you take the survey).

How Do You Define Literacy?

While reading through my education-related feeds, I came to an interesting post on "The English Blog" written by Jeffery Hill. He teaches overseas and blogs about learning, writing, and speaking English. I do not deal as often with learners of English as a second language, but his post brought up an interesting point. His quote from a local radio program got me thinking:

"The ABCs are apparently no longer as easy as 1-2-3. Recent federal studies indicate that the average American teenager's vocabulary is less than half that of the average teenager in the 1950s."

This comment made me recount my recent lessons in English literacy through my undergraduate and graduate studies at Missouri State. Naturally, I read the post carefully a few times again and composed a response to outline my thinking:

"I think the valuable question we need to ask ourselves here is, "how important is knowing specific words to literacy?" Does knowing what "abscond" means help people to do business better? Does understanding what "ad hoc" means help you write a better poem or essay? Communication and composition are specific only to the environment that their authors occupy. People learn what they need to in order to accomplish their goals. If teens today know less words than their parents, then is it a crisis or a sign of shift in literacy? Maybe this generation is redifining the word."

After I posted my reply, I sat back in thought. Did I really think that a lack of vocabulary represented a shift in literacy or was I simply playing devil's advocate to this easy-to-accept commentary on the lazy youth and their social media addiction? What research could I find to support my statement?

I turned to E.D. Hirsch Jr. and his best-selling book on cultural literacy in America. In this book, he has lists of words, dates, and phrases that "literate" Americans should know. Do you know the significance of 1066 CE? How about absolute zero or amicus curiae? These are supposed to be common terms that Mr. Hirsch requires of you. Maybe you happen to know when the Battle of Hastings was because you were a history or an English major in college, or because you were on the quizbowl team in high school, but otherwise why should you know it?

Of course, I would tell you that learning about the importance of historical events would enrich your life. If you know that the Normans defeated the English in 1066, then you may come to learn that this military event changed the face of the English language forever. Many of the French words present in our vernacular today were introduced by good ol' Billy Conqueror via the sword and arrow.

That being said, would you really say to someone who didn't know the significance of this date, "I'm sorry, but you are illiterate" ? I hope not. What kind of message would that send to people? I think Hirsch has only the best intentions in mind as he writes that you should know what "aeschylus" means. He is saying that you should want to be smarter (and I agree). He says only 2/3 of our society (in America) is truly literate. Is there really a "network of information that all competent readers possess" or is literacy something more than common or shared knowledge?

I think that literacy has more to do with conveying and understanding ideas than with specific words, phrases, or concepts. If you don't understand covalent bonding or absolute zero, but you can define curricum vitae and synecdohe, are you more or less literate than a person who can do the opposite? It sounds like the first person teaches science and the second English, but I would say neither are illiterate for having very specific gaps in their knowledge.

While it would be wonderful if we could count on every American to be able to discuss the importance of stereoisomers in optical science upon pulling out a pair of sunglasses, I don't think it's necessary to be considered literate. For most of the third of America that Hirsch sees as illiterate, I would imagine their chief concerns are more to do with basic needs than their intellect.

Hirsch has a lot of great data to back up his thoughts on literacy, and I agree with a lot of it, but he uses a lot of anecdotal evidence too, like in the introdcution. Ben Stein recalls his experiences with California high school students, claiming that in many years not one has ever been able to tell him the dates of any US war, any of the first ten presidents, or where Chicago is. I find that very hard to swallow. As a teacher in a sub-rural Missouri public high school, I could easily find ten students in five minutes who could answer all three of those things clearly.

There is validity to the arguments though. Students are pump and dumpers when it comes to reading, learning, and testing. Students usually can't tell you who that World War I started in 1914, or 1917 for the US involvement, because they only chose to remember it for "the test." It is the challenge of the teacher to help students build knowledge connections so retention of information is easier. I think Hirsch comes to this point as well, that of making connections; I think we're starting on opposite ends of the same spectrum though. He gives a determined set of information that people need to digest to be literate--a product to be obtained--while I think the process is where literacy is built.