Category: Syndicated

Why teach? Because magic.

Teaching is magical...and painful, and heart breaking, and stressful and exhausting and life-changing and in some moments, absolutely frustrating. But mostly magic.

There is a thing about teaching that keeps bringing you back. You can't put your fingers on it and you search for that reason while you are sitting at your desk, papers past your ears, way beyond the hours you should work for a healthy lifestyle.

The magic lies in the days with the kids who don't care, whom it seems you will never reach. The same kids who run into you years later and apologize for being that kid and tell you that they never forgot that you never gave up, even when they had. For the kid who refuses to do homework, or show up who you worry about even when they are not even your own child. For the day when they finally come in and ask for help. Even if it is for a few minutes, they came in and cared about something. The magic is in the student that stares at you blankly and questions you on everything and frustrates you because you feel disrespected. You go home at night, still furious when one night you realize, he was asking all the right questions, just in all the wrong ways.

And lastly, the magic is that end of the year moment when you all know it's your last day and you see the heartbreak in your students eyes when they realize they won't see you next year. It's that moment when you unexpectedly reached a kid everyone else had given up on. It's that magical moment that comes at least once a day when one of your students, if not the entire class, teaches you. And together you learn and together you grow and together you create why I teach: magic.

The answer to life, the universe, and Why Teach?

The answer to life, the universe, and everything (but “Why Teach?”) is 42.

The answer to “Why Teach?” was summed up perfectly by my friend and colleague Mark: “I teach for selfish reasons.” So do I, and my reasons aren’t much different from the ones he so articulately explained in his recent blog. Teaching is fulfilling, learning is an addiction (and you can’t have one without the other!), and both give my un-spiritual self a reason to be. I’m going to let Mark speak for me here and direct you over to his blog for further reading.

A related question that I’ve been thinking about lately is “Why literature?” Why read it, why study it, why teach it? Again, there are so many smart people out there who have voiced their opinions on why literature matters and I don’t want to just repeat them because you’re probably familiar. Reading makes you more empathetic—yep. Reading makes you smarter—indeed. Reading is good for humanity in general—if it makes you smarter and more empathetic then this must be true, so yes.

But are any of these reasons going to make you want to pick up Crime and Punishment on your days off? Probably not. Think about how much less appealing reading literature for these reasons is, then, to a teenager. Telling them that reading will make them a better person, more able to cope with the hardships of life, more understanding of people next to and far away from them, more knowledgeable about geography, history, science, philosophy, bunnies, why people hate and why people love—is like telling them they should WANT to eat vegetables because they’ll be healthier and live a longer life. What you’re asking them to do is to commit to a daunting and possibly unpleasant task for an abstract reward that *maybe* they’ll start to notice in a decade or two, assuming they’ve done a bunch of other stuff that also goes in to making a person better, smarter, or healthier. Basically, imposing even your valid reasons on a person as a way to coerce them into doing something they ordinarily wouldn’t do is a pretty ineffective approach. Alternatively, you could go with the “Or Else!” method. Eat your vegetables or you don’t get ice cream! Read Huck Finn or you fail! They would be more likely to do it, but less likely to voluntarily want to do something similar again.

People need to find their own reasons to want to read. I see it as my responsibility as a teacher to provide my students with the opportunities and the tools they need to decide for themselves why literature matters. So far, the best way I know how to do that is to give them options and to encourage creativity. In this way, students can show me Why.

And we’re back to the selfish reasons why I teach: teaching has endlessly creative potential. I can’t sing, can’t dance, can’t draw, I’m sort of good at following a recipe, I can barely crochet a scarf—I would have been a terrible guest in a 19th century drawing room. And even though my difficulties with writing have become almost phobia-like, I’m an excellent close-reader and I use that skill to inspire my teaching. In a way, classrooms are my canvas. Teaching is MY outlet for the creative energy we all have inside of us, that desire that drives a person to do a thing or to make a thing well and to be acknowledged for it.

I posted some of the wonderful work that students created in the section of Great Books I taught last semester, it’s up on the “Scholarly Pursuits” page. Spoiler Alert: we wrote a book!

TTFN


Why Do I Teach?

Education is a gift and a privilege that should be shared with the world. I believe that everyone can utilize education as a resource to suit their specific needs, supplementing and amplifying realworld experience in order to advance their knowledge and accomplish their ambitions.

We stand at the edge of a precipice. In a world deeply intertwined by the web, information has become more readily accessible. Connecting yourself to ideas, researching new developments, becoming a recognized critical voice, and adding that voice to an ever changing discussion is essential as students and as educators.

I believe that people can gain more from giving that from taking. I have learned that education is a gift that needs to be valued by students. In order to be truly valued, this gift must be built around the needs of the student rather than the ideals and standards of the University.

I wish to sell ideas and knowledge. I do my best to present information in a way that suits my audience. One hour class at a time, I captivate and relate in order to establish and manage student goals. My profits will not be measured by dollars and cents, but rather accomplishments and comprehension. I teach because students deserve the opportunity to have access to knowledge. I teach because I believe the search for knowledge is never ending. And I teach because I have the power to give others the keys to the world.


What’s it all about?

Photo_ideas_water_drop_photography_DCM121.feature.getty_89853115 I believe that ideas have power. These ideas are shaped through our words. The form that we choose to utilize our message is within our control. The mediums which we choose to communicate our message, our form and our ideas are ever changing. Learning to communicate through these changing mediums is essential in order to make an impact upon the future. I live to learn and I learn to live. My love of knowledge is an endless thirst. And though I may wander the desert for eternity in search of my oasis, I will savor every drop of water that takes me one step closer to my fountain of truth.

Why Not?

College was not quite on my mind after high school and I wasn’t sure if I ever want it to go. This began to change in the spring of 2007 when I became interested in film production. Well a good friend of mine who was going to school at UCLA,  knew a guy who was working on his film thesis. I got in contact with this guy, and I was brought on board as a production assistant/grip. Following the completion of this project and I began to work on other film productions, commercials, and music videos that summer.

I was very fascinated with this art and really enjoyed working with these creative people but then I realized why am I not a student and I should go back to college and study film production. The people I worked with, highly encouraged me to go to college and study film production and just go to college. Driving home was my reflection time and I had to find something to stay amused while stuck in traffic bumper to bumper on the four-o-five (LA traffic). Those long hours stuck in traffic led to the big questions: Why not? Why not get an education? I thought about going to college over and over (thinking about film school). Then I realized I didn’t have to have a set of vocational goals. My biggest fear was taking classes that I’m was not interested in (GE classes) and writing papers. Also, I didn’t really know how to write a solid college level essay and I found writing very stressful. But I knew writing was essential if I want it to explore my ideas and write scripts.

August rolls around and I find myself seating in Dr.Magee’s English 59 class at Fullerton College. I’m sitting there thinking what am I doing here. I should skip this class and just go to my film classes. Before I could do that, Dr. Magee begins to talk about how everyone leaves his classes loving the art of writing and no one in his classes ever failed. Well this was a good start and, I stayed in the class. I wrote my first paper and I recall thinking how awful that paper was. I get my paper back, Dr. Magee gave me feedback and said I should see him if I needed the extra help. I reluctantly go to his office hours to get the help I needed writing my papers. After completing my first year of college, I realized how much Dr. Magee and other professors helped succeed academically. The following year I enrolled in all GE classes (including English 101 and a literature class) and I didn’t take any film classes. After many visits to the writing center and to Dr. Magee’s office, I began to ponder why not study literature instead of film. Two semesters ago I couldn’t even wrap the idea of me pursuing a degree in literature or even going into teaching. After reflecting and thinking that working in the film industry is not as rewarding as being a teacher and helping others achieve their academic goals. I decided to pursue a career in teaching. This was the turning point in my educational career and I came to the realization that education something I enjoy and it’s a great experience.

I transferred to Chico in the fall of 2009 and I graduated in the spring of 2011. After spending four long years in college, you can imagine my relief and happiness of finishing school forever. I moved back to Los Angeles and worked as a substitute teacher and as an after school film teacher at a middle school (Film club). Working in K-12 classroom settings was a very rewarding experience. Teaching was very exciting but I miss being a student and I knew I needed to get a teaching credential. Well I thought why not go to grad school and become more knowledgeable about my subject. Then in the fall of 2013, I am back at Chico State as a grad student. Being here is very exciting to me and I’m very grateful that I got this opportunity to continue my education and keep growing as a scholar. I’m excited to be here and looking forward to completing this program and becoming an inspiring teacher and keep living the dream.

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Why (oh why) teach?

The question of the hour, dear reader, is why teach? And as someone in the middle of grading a stack of papers while trying to finish their thesis, my first reaction is to say “good [expletive redacted] question!” But after a moment of cooler contemplation, I feel like I can offer up an answer of sufficient insight and, hopefully, readability.

I teach for selfish reasons.

I teach because of the overwhelming feeling of fulfillment that comes over me when I see a student do something they had not previously been able to do. This moment is what makes it all worth while, the moment when you can see irrefutable proof that you are actually doing something, and helping someone to do things of their own. It would be easy to frame this as an altruistic motivation, but I think that would be taking something away from the true feeling of the matter. While there is certainly an altruistic element to it, I like to think I would help others even if it didn’t make me feel good, one should not ignore the sheer magnitude of gratification that comes along with helping someone to reach an “Aha!” moment. Rather than frame the teacher as a saint, tempting as that may be, I instead posit the idea of benevolent self interest. If you can make a career out of helping people and feeling good about yourself, that can’t be too bad…

I teach because of my love for learning. I’m the kind of fellow who, when at a loose end, will go on a wikipedia binge and read everything I can find on the history of Norway as an independent country. Spoiler alert, they had to fight Denmark, like, a million times. I once spent the hours between midnight and two AM learning everything I could about the Blakiston’s Fish Owl (who walks from place to place so much that he trudges out a trail in the snow from his nest to the river where he hunts by jumping on fish) and, by way of geological association, the Russo-Japanese war of 1904. The point of all this is that one major fringe benefit of teaching freshman composition, is getting to study vicariously through my students, and learn about 30 weird new things with every new stack of papers.

I teach because it forces me to improve constantly. There is a point in the pursuit of any skill where you feel like you have achieved some fraction of mastery, like you really know what you’re doing. And then you try to teach someone. Suddenly they are asking you all the “why” questions for things that you do naturally, and you are forced to go back and think, why do I do it that way? Is there really a benefit or necessity in that? This can be a frightening moment, but it is also the moment where your mastery truly deepens, as you begin -out of necessity- to develop the rationale and theory behind your actions. You might know intrinsically to make a certain action in a certain situation, but teaching will force you to develop the understand of why that situation requires that specific action, and what it is about those elements that allows them to work together in such a profitable way. The old adage goes, “if you can’t do, teach” but I would reject that in favor of “If you’re not teaching, you’re not doing.” True mastery is not just the ability to perform, it is the ability to bring others up to your level, to have a deep and constantly evolving understanding of performance that you can pass on to future generations.

Finally, I teach because I’m not spiritual. You’d never get me to call myself an exi-staaaahn-tialist, but I feel the gnawing pressure of the void as much as the next 20th century French novelist. Teaching is a way of finding meaning and purpose in a world that can just as easily be empty and meaningless. I may not have a spiritual overlord to give my life purpose, but I can find some meaning in doing whatever small things I can to make the world a better place for those that will walk its surface when I am gone. I am not saying that being taught by me makes someone’s life better (although of course it must), but I do hope that I can have some small impact in developing a students sensitivity and awareness, perhaps effecting a sort of grass roots movement of change by doing so. That last sentence is incredibly pompous, but I do believe that the only way to change the world is to change the way people think about the world. You can occupy wall street until the cows come home, but until people decide of their own volition that some things are more important than net profits, there will be no change. Hopefully through providing a space and an opportunity to think, to develop awareness and sensitivity to the world, I can also provide a space to encourage a change in individual thought that might, eventually help move our society towards a change in values. And hey, it beats going to church.


Tuesday, September 23: Group B

Today’s quote was beyond perfect. After taking way too long to draft my previous post (my first real attempt at analyzing my notes so that I will eventually have something to write for this thesis thing), it is very important for me to remember both why I started and why I need to keep pushing towards this transformation. If I want a productive writing life, I have to make it happen. So thank you, Pinterest, for the lovely quote found below.

I would also like to point out that a dance class takes place next door to this classroom and 50s swing music blaring in the background is beyond distracting to listen to while attempting to transcribe.
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It’s not about perfect. It’s about effort. And when you implement that effort into your life…every single day, that’s where transformation happens. That’s how change occurs. Keep going. Remember why you started.
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In this class, it has become a norm for students to pull up anything they may need help with each day on the teacher’s computer as they walk through the door. This way, the mentor can skip the “what’s everybody working on” portion of the class period and get right to the workshop part of the class.

Today, Students B and C each had drafts of a paper to workshop so the Mentor split the class in to two groups:

Mentor Intern
Student A Student B Student C Student E
Student D Student F

I will focus the content of this post on the Mentor’s group for two reasons: first, I know that this is this Mentor’s first attempt at workshopping in this way and second, I was simply closest to this group.

After straightening out a few kinks with the Google Docs and Internet connections (and Students C, E, and F teaching the Intern how to log in Google Docs on a borrowed iPad–another cool example of students taking on expert roles and teaching something new to the Mentor/Intern), the Mentor allowed the students to divide themselves in to groups. Student C chose to work with the Intern and Student B chose to work with the Mentor. The other students simply divided themselves accordingly.

Before allowing his small group to begin reading the draft, the Mentor asked Student B to explain the assignment:

Mentor: “So, [Student B], let’s–let’s tell us, um, where you’re at with this and then what we can do for you.”
Student B: “So, basically you have to include two authors in your quotes so I can’t compare and contrast. So I did one author that I agree with, one author that I know that I can compare and contrast with [....] I need like evidence, like, some like stats from, like, outside resources.”

By asking Student B to explain what he needs help on in this assignment, the Mentor has both determined Student B’s understanding of the assignment and allowed the student to direct his peers to points in his writing that he feels are weak. This simple gesture gives Student B authority over both his writing and his practice as a student and a writer. It also allows the Mentor to step back from his usual role as the “more experienced peer.” In all honesty, the Mentor has no way of knowing what the assignment is asking and where the Student feels he needs the most help. This seems obvious, but, in my experience, it is almost instinctual for less experienced mentors to lead all discussions in the space.

In an interesting move, the Mentor then re-asked the same question of the Student and received a surprisingly generic response:

Student B: “Am I, like, going in the right path?”

Mentor: “Ok, so he wants to know basically, then, is he doing a good job making the argument? [....] So let’s read this and let’s see if, one, we can follow what he’s writing, and, two, if, by the end of what he’s written, we know what his argument is.”

This vague response is in direct contrast to his previous statement in which he points out a very specific gap in his research: statistics to support his claim and then the Mentor restates the student’s response to the group. This move effectively put the Mentor back in charge of the discussion and I am not confident that this was the Mentor’s intention. I imagine his intention was to ensure clarity. A minor bump in communication, but interesting nonetheless.

After giving the group time to read the draft, the Mentor asked for feedback and diligently typed all of the students’ comments as they came up. This is another move that puts the Mentor in charge. Instead of asking the students to type their own comments in the margins, the Mentor unconsciously inserts his own language into each student’s verbal comment as he writes.

While the other mentor began the discussion portion of the class by asking students for positive feedback, this Mentor began the discussion by asking students to explain Student B’s argument:

Mentor: “So, after reading, let’s start with the basics: what’s his argument?”

The first student to comment (Student A) instantly mentioned a surface level error. The Mentor responded by stressing the importance of looking at content before worrying about surface level errors and, to appease that student, was careful to leave time at the end of class to allow students to fix those distracting surface level errors.

The students had little to say about the content of the draft so the Mentor asked each of them to try researching to help Student B to find an additional source or two. The Mentor offered what we call a “Pro Tip” to his students by explaining his personal method for finding sources online. He suggested opening multiple windows in Google and using different search terms:

Mentor: “violent tv shows,” “violent tv shows benefits,” “violent tv shows helpful”

The students were instructed to copy and paste any relevant sources they found into a Google Doc and given minutes to search through Google. This is something that I also practice in my 30 space. I’ve found (and I think the Mentor found) that it encourages students to bring in their work at all stages of the writing process. Every stage is important and every stage has its own set of challenges.

A trap that many new mentors fall in to is to be too specific about the kinds of writing are allowed to be brought in for a workshop. This Mentor is experienced enough that he has been able to stress how difficult writing is at every stage of the process and small moments like this one can help students still feel secure in the moments when they are stuck. Everyone gets stuck and, in English 30 spaces, there is a team of people who are more than willing to help. That is one of my absolute favorite parts about English 30. The communities that get built in these small spaces have the opportunity to give students a confidence that they often lack in their skills as writers and readers and students in the university.
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“The beautiful part of writing is that you don’t have to get it right the first time, unlike, say, a brain surgeon.” – Robert Cormier
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Monday, September 22

I would like to preface this post by stating the obvious: transcribing is difficult and time consuming and not my favorite thing on earth. But by the end of this semester (hell, by the end of this week), I’m gonna be really good at it. Practice makes perfect, right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Nerds like us are allowed to be unironically enthusiastic about stuff. Nerds are allowed to love stuff, like, jump-up-and-down-in-your-chair-can’t-control-yourself-love it. When people call people nerds, mostly what they’re saying is “You like stuff.” Which is not a good insult at all. Like, “You are too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness.”” – John Green
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Mentor
Intern 2 Student 9
Intern 1 Student 10
Student 3 Student 8
Student 4 Student 7
Student 2 Student 5
Student 1
As the class period began and students began to quiet down, the Mentor initially addressed the class by announcing that he was having a terrible morning.

Mentor: “I lost my keys, and then, like, I burned my eggs, and then, I was just like, Jesus, what is going on? The 49ers lost again, so I was just like, my world is crashing down around me right now! And that professor we were talking about? On Wednesday? That I don’t care for, I have him tonight so it’s just like, this whole concoction of shittiness (shittyness? shitty-ness?) going on in my life right now that’s kind of….but it’s alright, we’re gonna get through.”

The nine students present looked concerned and the Mentor stopped being the “Teacher” and instantly became a human being, a fellow student who is struggling his way through college. For a moment, the Mentor was so frazzled that he couldn’t remember the prompt for the quick write, but, luckily, it came to him.

Mentor: “So, yeah, um, two part question: you can either write about what your strengths and weaknesses are with regards to writing or you can kinda tell me about your practice. Like, as a–as a student writer. Like how you go about–like, when you have an essay, what’s the first thing you do?”

After giving the students the two possible quick write prompts, the Mentor immediately gave the students an example of how he might respond to the quick writes:

Mentor: “Like for example, like, my weakness is, like, I hate revising. Like, especially with poetry. If I ever have to revise a poem, I just, like, say, ‘oh, it’s not good enough,’ and I just write a new poem. Cuz I don’t wanna revise it, so, I hate revising.”

This is a practice that is very familiar to this mentor and I due to the fact that we are graduate students in the same program. Many professors here are in the habit of using themselves as examples when explaining an assignment like a quick write or blog post.

The students wrote diligently for about 4 minutes. Students 2, 3, 4, and 8 were the first to stop, but the Mentor did not notice until both Intern 1 and 2 stopped writing after 5 minutes. He was busy writing and, at one point, took out his iPhone. In this moment, without his knowledge, his students stopped looking at him as the authority figure or leader in the classroom and this was immediately reflected in their silence when asked to share what they wrote.

As a countermeasure, the Mentor used the age old threat to “call on a random student” and, after less than ten seconds of silence (with students carefully looking everywhere but at the Mentor or Interns), the Mentor called on Student 8. Luckily, Student 8 is not a shy soul (probably why the Mentor felt comfortable choosing him) and immediately responded with a smile.

Student 8: “Um, so basically, I hate revising. Because, um, when I’m revising someone else’s paper, I feel like, if I write something down, they won’t like me cuz, like, I write something bad–I don’t know. I feel like I might mess someone’s paper up”

Although the class had moved on, I was stuck on Student 8’s frank statement:

“when I’m revising someone else’s paper, I feel like, if I write something down, they won’t like me cuz, like, I write something bad–I don’t know. I feel like I might mess someone’s paper up”

First of all, I find it fascinating that Student 8 bent his understanding of the word “revision” to include “peer review” since “peer review” wasn’t a term used in the Mentor’s description of the prompt. He is using the same word as the Mentor, but his understanding of the word includes what the Mentor would most likely refer to as peer review. I have no idea what that means, but it’s so interesting.

Second, it seems to me that this feeling of “mess[ing] someone’s paper up” is a sort of residual effect from peer review in high school. It is a feeling that I have come across many times in my past four semesters as an English 30 mentor. So many students are fearful of coming across as “mean” to their peers and are therefore intimidated by those students who are not afraid to offer constructive criticism.

So, I guess my question becomes: how do we alleviate that fear? In my 30 space, it feels absolutely critical to have a conversation about how we will conduct peer review in the space and that conversation stems from each student’s previous experiences with the practice. Many have admitted that their previous teachers (or current English 130 professors) use rubrics to facilitate peer review and do not collect these rubrics, so students are not held accountable for their work. Also, students are forced to print copies of their paper/narrative/memo/etc. but their peers do not write on the copies. They simply read them and write notes on the rubric.

To my surprise, that conversation didn’t happen when I expected it to. Granted, the students have already begun the process of peer review within the space and a few (Students 1, 2, and 4) seem to have little concern with offering constructive criticism to a peer’s work; however, Student 8 made it clear that he still feels that fear and, ironically, it was his day to bring in a piece of writing to workshop.

Using his background as a creative writing student, the Mentor asked the students to begin their discussion with positive comments after they had silently read Student 8’s paper in a shared Google Doc. Positive comments included compliments on his topic, his skill at including quotes to support his argument, his inclusion of the opposing argument, etc.

When asked how the paper could be strengthened, Student 7 dropped in the term “code-switching.”

Student 7: “Code-switching is basically knowing when and how to speak and to who [.....] It’s basically saying, like, how I talk to my roommate or how I talk to my fellow peers, I wouldn’t talk to my boss like that. Or I wouldn’t talk to a professor like that.”

This was possibly one of my favorite moments from this class period because a student who had hardly spoken (she is usually very vocal in class) had the opportunity to demonstrate her expertise in a subject that the Mentor and Interns were unfamiliar. Not only did the Mentor acknowledge her expertise by asking her to explain what the term meant, but she also was able to help her peer further his understanding of his topic and give him an opportunity to expand his argument. It was a pretty cool moment to witness the Mentor relinquishing the reins as the “teacher” or the “more experienced peer” and giving that power to his student.
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Learn to love the process.
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