Spring Vignettes

(Note: My first attempt to spell my title prompted Macintosh Pages to suggest “Spring Vinaigrettes” as the closest match. If only this were the food network...)

Books

I finished Brooklyn, the “One Book, One Chicago” selection, about three weeks ago. I'm looking forward to a public library book discussion close to my neighborhood. It felt so good to finish a non-school-related novel for myself. I felt like I hadn’t done it in ages. Thirsty for more, I tackled Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections and, after many late nights this past week, finished it four minutes ago. I triumphantly threw it to the floor, pondering all that is a novel. I come away with much to consider, but at the forefront of the wake left by this masterfully-written novel, I find myself pondering the navigation of transition from one huge chapter of life to the next. I also find myself realistically grateful for my family––if you’ve read The Corrections, I think this is easily understood.

Spring Time

Broken glass is the first sign of this season of renewal. I noticed the barefoot-nightmare before any other sign, at the first hint of warm weather. Before the grills roll out or the lawn furniture, or the seasoned Chicagoan Eskimos downgrade their parkas for jackets, I was walking around pools of glass shards glinting the early morning sunlight all along the sidewalks in my neighborhood. The trees have caught up, though, and the new buds provide such a sense of relief and cautious joy from the relentless drudgery of Chicago winter.

Discipline

Ms. Dean is a traditional disciplinarian, favoring sets (multiplication tables up through twelve, three times each) and tough love for student offenses. She has better control of the class than any teacher I've seen in the school, so I'm hardly criticizing her. For the sake of continuity I have been using similar methods for the very few students who were (past tense I hope!) in the habit of challenging/outright disrespecting me. It is, as a fellow blogger has eloquently noted, not very effective, at least not in the long run. While I mean no disrespect to such disciplinarians, I am looking forward to my own classroom where students will realize that math is not a punishment but a right and a privilege. Anyway, I’ve been building relationships like mad, and I have several students totally with on board with me (student-teacher allies, I might call our relationships) and my crazy singing, dancing, math-ing, and vegetarian-ly correct grammar.

Vegetarianism

It’s a pretty great life choice for me. Several of my students exclaimed when they found out, “I ain’t never seen a vegetarian before!” I guess there’s a first time for everything. My 6th grade class was shockingly fascinated in my meatless existence and asked me a whirlwind of questions that each deserved paragraph answers (in the least!) but I fielded all with carefully accurate brevity so my class would not turn into a nutrition class or an environmental sustainability lecture. One of my students, fascinated to the point of action, tried a vegetarian diet for a week. I encouraged him to talk with his family about the decision so that they were in support of this new lifestyle trial (just like I...didn’t) and he reported later that he and his mother made salads and, one night, spinach lasagna together. The overall experience was “hard but good.”

Improvement

This deserves much more than a vignette, but for now, I’m focusing on asking specific questions to specific individuals, playing to their strengths (to build confidence) and weaknesses (to challenge them). This takes a lot of knowledge of my students, and I have to ask students with their names first so that “no one” (aka only 4 instead of 14 others) shout out various answers before the student has a chance to think. I’ve been doing a lot of explaining to the whole class, and having individual conversations with repeat offenders or shameless know-it-alls, about the importance of letting students think on their own and answer their own questions. “When you shout out it takes away the opportunity for the people still thinking to come to their own conclusion, and we ALL need to be able to think for ourselves. Agreed?”

At the same time, I’m encouraging certain hermits and recluses to lend their voice to class lessons. After class today I snagged one. “I was really hoping that you would contribute more to our discussion today.”

She looked away, thrown off and a little embarrassed that I brought it up. “I don’t know. I don’t like to be wrong.”

“I completely understand that...but sometimes we learn the most from our mistakes. And when you’re having trouble––and you’re real bright (she is)––I’m positive that there are other students who are probably struggling with the same thing, so when you bring it up you benefit yourself AND the rest of the class.” It was my version of a sincere pep talk.

“I guess...” She smiled a tiny, tiny bit as she thought about this. As she left quietly I got the impression that she was surprised and happy that I simply recognized her existence in my class.