jump to navigation

The Homework Myth July 6, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Teaching.
Tags: , , , , , ,
9 comments

 

reesewriting

 

 

 

I’m beginning to question the whole “homework reinforces learning and teaches responsibility” crap argument. Recently, I stumbled upon a Q&A with Alfie Kohn, author of The Homework Myth, that was published in the American School Board Journal.

Okay, I’ve still got to do my homework on homework (as in, buy and read the book), but according to the interview, there are NO studies that show that assigning homework in elementary school (grades K-3) improves achievement.  I know what you’re thinking.  At least it promotes self-discipline, right?  But according to Kohn, there’s no scientific evidence to prove this is true either.  Hey, is that my pig that just flew by?

I’ve always assigned homework.  Your reading log must be signed by a parent every night.  ”I don’t care if your parent is passed out on the couch,” I’ve been known to say.  ”It’s your responsibility to put a pen in their hand and move it around!”  Students who come to school without a parent signature are benched for morning recess.  Okay, it’s only 15 minutes, and they can still use the bathroom, but it’s the thought that counts.  I’ve had students weeping over the loss of that 10 minutes of runaround time.  We spend maybe 15 minutes a day correcting homework and another ten minutes talking about the homework that’s to be done that night.  It adds up.

For the record, I’ve spent two years designing and fine turning homework that incorporates the week’s spelling and vocabulary words, and English Language Conventions (read Skills) that we’re studying that week.  But I’m not sure this homework actually helps the kids who need help the most.

I’ve taught a cluster of English Language Learners (ELLs) for the past two years.  The other half of my students are English speakers, and last year I even had one boy who read at a 7th grade level.  They’re all over the spectrum. In a perfect world, I’d be differentiating homework.  But to be honest, I don’t have the time.  I could ask my student from Mexico to practice her English sight words every night, but there’s no one at home who speaks English. And when I looked at the homework one of my Korean students turned in, I could see his father had translated it word by word and then written the spelling sentences for him.

I’m hearing more and more that it’s not “practice  makes perfect,” but “perfect practice makes perfect.”  So how does homework promote that?   Or should it?  Do students really need to work a second shift?

I do remember one homework assignment that yielded results.  Our vocabulary word was “exist” and I had students ask their parents (or whoever was in charge) about things we have now that didn’t “exist” when their parents were in the third grade.  Oh, the list we made!  Cell phones, iPods, Invisalign braces –  the list went on and on.  Of course, one girl’s father told her toilets didn’t exist, but I chalked that up to him growing up in rural Mexico (or maybe he just didn’t understand the question).

I also sent students home with plastic straws and paperclips and had them construct right, isosceles, and obtuse triangles, which they had to “hand in” the next morning by sorting them into the correct piles.  If only homework was always that interesting.  

Once my students got the hang of Accelerated Reading (AR), I let them take home books from the class library so they could  take the on-line quiz the next day.  Talk about motivated readers!  And my students can alphabetize their spelling words and draw a line between a vocabulary word and its meaning, but still…

I’ve only had a few parents over the years who asked for more homework. They tend to congregate in the GATE clusters.  When parents do ask for more, I tell them their child would be better off watching the Discovery Channel or baking a cake.  Some look relieved.  Others are confused.

The week my students took THE TEST (the one that will determine who’s getting left behind), teachers were told not to assign homework.

A collective sigh of relief echoed through the hallways.  No dashing down to copy homework only to find the copier was broken.  No dashing down to find the copier had been commandeered by one of those upper grade teachers, who are always in the midst of printing out 35+ packets.  Waiting to use the copier is a lot like standing in line at a Methadone clinic waiting for my fix turn.  Fifty some teachers, two copiers.  You can do the math.  If life was fair, there’d be a technician chained to the copier 24/7.

To avoid this, I have all the homework on my computer at home and print it out on Sundays.  Did I mention that Sunday has become my least favorite day of the week?

In my Master’s program, we had to pick a topic to do an Action Research project on over the next year.  My cohort’s topic is…homework!  No sooner had we decided on our topic than our district revamped its homework policy. The new guidelines cite the importance of daily homework to “reinforce learning” and report that “homework promotes responsibility.”

Okay, the jury’s still out, but it should be interesting to see what our research reveals.  In the meantime, if you don’t have that parent signature on your reading log, you’re benched.

True Blood July 2, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Entertainment.
Tags: , , , , , ,
2 comments

After reading Twilight, with its endless descriptions of Edward’s chest, I swore off vampires.  Later, when my book club read Three Cups of Tea,  I even threatened to make a Venn Diagram to compare and contrast adjectives used to describe Edward’s chest with those used to describe the mountains in Afghanistan.  

But,  I have to admit that I enjoy watching True Blood on HBO.  First, it’s got a mighty fine theme song by Jace Alexander.  And how can I not love a show that, with all seriousness, has characters spew lines like “Clearly, she’s no fan of the fang.”  

I’ve written before about Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) and used the vampire analogy.  So last week when a character said, “He used me up and sucked me dry.  It was like I was his snack machine!” it was music to my ears.  Yeah, I’m a fan of the fang.

Baby Doll Brawl – From Bach to Iggy Pop June 28, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Entertainment.
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
1 comment so far

rollerderby

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Girls, fishnets, track slapping, heart stopping ACTION!  Could there be anything more American?  Red, white and bruise!”  How’s that for a promo? That’s how I came to be standing in one very long line on a hot Saturday afternoon in East Hollywood outside The Doll Factory.  Just the night before, we’d driven to Claremont to hear my niece play Bach on cello in a picture perfect setting.  What a difference a day makes.

“We’re roller derby virgins,” the woman ahead of me announced.  She had a husband in tow and a couple of kids.  No visible tattoos.  Not at all what I’d expected.  ”Me too,” I volunteered. “Do you think this means we’re going to be sacrificed to a volcano?” From the rumbling coming from inside The Doll Factory, this seemed a distinct possibility, as the DJ had the bass cranked up.  
This was my friend Kelli’s (aka Kocoa Krunch) skating debut with The Baby Dolls, the up and comers in the L.A. Derby Dolls.  I’d been hearing Kelli talk about roller derby for almost a year.  At 39, she’s a little long in the tooth to be an up and comer, but she’s also got long legs that stretch to Cleveland, her hometown.  An actress (and sometimes substitute teacher), Kelli may be the only person I know who can pull off wearing silver lame hot pants.

The Doll Factory is an airy warehouse.  Instead of a mirrored disco ball, there’s a mirrored roller skate suspended over the banked track.  For $10 you get standing room only tickets and a trip to the porta-potties outside. We’d sprung for the $20 VIP tickets so we could sit on bleachers and use the VIP bathroom.  (It’s VIP because there’s only ONE toilet.)  

Inside it was loud – like being  trapped inside a pinball machine.  There was a Vendor Village where you could buy everything from pizza to organic enchiladas (Hey, it’s L.A.!) and the Beer Garden where you could swill Tecate while watching the action on a big screen. During the Skate Out, when the players warm up, they really crank up the music.  But it set the mood, which was fun and raucous.  And somewhere in the middle of Iggy Pop’s Lust for Life, my stuffed up ear from my summer cold blew out.  Suddenly, life was good  - and much LOUDER.

Roller Derby is an American sport (the only other being basketball), so we were asked to stand while Jes-sicka Rav-edge sang the national anthem (and did a bang up job).  Two periods.  Lots of action.  Kelli had a very vocal contingent and her husband, Kap’n Krunch, got a shout out.  She spent some time in the penalty box, but since I’m a newbie, I figured that was because she looked too good in those hot pants.  But I have lots to learn. Kelli’s team, the Meteorfights, came from behind to beat the Scars and Stripes then took a victory lap around the track. 

A sampling of the skater’s names:  Marina del Rage, Queen Elizadeath II, Wanda B. Onya, and May Q. Holla on the Meteorfights and Tilda Whirl, Eat-It Piaf, Got MILF?, and Helen Surly Frown on the Scars and Stripes.  Everybody has a name, including the referees (e.g. Charlie Frown), who in their black and white striped shirts, were referred to as “zebras.”  The official photographer wore a shirt emblazened with “Stalkerazzi.” I think the only person on the track who didn’t have a name was the EMT.  He needs to get crackin’ before the bones do.

Since everyone I know seems to have The Cold, I thought I’d put up the cure (not to be confused with The Cure).

Playground Posse June 22, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Teaching.
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
6 comments

 

badgetset

 

 

As a “highly qualified teacher” it’s only fitting that I’m expected to do Yard Duty for 15 minutes twice a week. (Andy Warhol had the math wrong – It’s 15 minutes of fame 2 times a week for an entire school year!) This job is just too important to be left to amateurs, although my posse includes minimum wage employees.  

This year we got to “choose” the days we wanted had to do yard duty along with the times.  I signed up to do the “before school” shift, not because I’m an early morning person, but to get it out of the way.  

I lucked out and got assigned to the climber and back basketball court. Whew!  I managed to dodge the most dreaded of all Yard Duty assignments – Supervising the restrooms. That’s where the real action is.  But assignments change each year, so I’m not counting my chickens.

When I’m on yard duty, I’m basically back on Sixth Grade Safety Patrol. Throw in a little Mall Cop and the LAPD’s “to protect and to serve” motto. You get the picture.  A lot of school districts hire people just do to Yard Duty aka Playground Supervision, but not my district.  This is not a job that just anyone can do. 

Case in point.  When my husband was in art school, he got a lunchtime job working as a Playground Aide at the local public school.  He was fired after two weeks when he kicked a kid in the butt, after the kid spit on him.  Unlike my husband, I take pride in my ability to maintain a cool demeanor when spittle is dribbling down my face.  A police officer once told me, “I couldn’t do the job that you do – not without my gun.”  That’s why us teachers get paid the big bucks.

Monday Morning.  ”Hey you!”  I yell.  ”It’s Monday.  First graders only on the climber!”   “But I AM in first grade,” the boy protests.  I look him over.  This kid is HUGE.  Freakishly huge.  But several other first graders assure me he is indeed in first grade.  Geez Louise.   When Tyrano-boy runs across the bridge, the entire structure shudders.  I decide to keep an eye on him.  ”I’m watching you,” I say, just to let him know I’m nobody’s fool.

I spend an inordinate amount of time standing at the bottom of the slide repeating the mantra.  ”We don’t go UP the slide, we go DOWN it.”  I say this so often and to the same kids, that someone suggested we just have a recorded message.  Hey, I came up with an even better idea.  You know those metal spikes that puncture your tires when you drive the wrong way? 

I also do a lot of conflict resolution which usually culminates with rock, paper, scissors or an insincere, “I’m sorry.”  Every day it’s the same kids who get in trouble.  Hmmm, I wonder.

And there’s always a small group of junkies students who huddle under the climber snarfing Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.  NPR did a great segment called Kids Love Hot Cheetos But Schools Hate Them.  We teachers know the signs.  Red encrusted lips and the insatiable need to drink water.

At my old school,  I was on Yard Duty on day when I got a report of illicit activity in the girls restroom.  I slipped into the girl’s restroom and could hear the telltale rustling of the bag in the last stall.  There I found three Latino girls standing on the toilet sharing a Family Size bag of Hot Cheetos. “You are so busted!” I said.  I like to use that line of Kevin Spacey’s from American Beauty.  In fact, I like it so much, I actually look for opportunities to use it.

Wednesday Morning. “Hey you!” I yell. “It’s Wednesday. Third graders only on the climber!”  Since I teach third grade, I can easily sort these kids out. Third graders have typically graduated from Flamin’ Hot Cheetos to cell phones.  

Personally, I don’t have a problem with kids having cell phones, as long as they keep them in their backpacks.   But kids seem to have this need to show their phone to friends.  They Show and someone Tells.  That’s when I step in. “Oh, you are so busted!” I announce, as I confiscate the phone.  What they don’t know, is that when I walk away, I can’t help but smile.  Hey, I’m nobody’s fool.

C is for Chaos June 19, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Politics.
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
add a comment
grafitti

The writing is on the wall, but can you read it?

 

 

When I got up this morning (Ahhh, first day of summer vacation) my husband was reading the newspaper.  ”It seems like it’s on the verge of exploding,” he said.  I thought he was talking about my school district. Turned out he was talking about Iran.  

What a colossal mess the state of California has made.  And who’s going to pick it up? Us. The people. And teachers, of course.  We’re good at picking up messes (primarily messy parenting).  

Friday, after teachers had packed up their classrooms for summer vacation, emails arrived from our union.  The RIFs (Reduction in Force notices) keep a comin’.  Bottom line: Thirty-four MORE elementary teachers in the district are to be RIF’d.  Also included in the cuts are a smattering of English, History, and PE teachers at the high school level.  

My district isn’t huge, so that’s a lotta people.  People who have children. People who have rent and mortgages to pay.  People who are still paying off their student loans so that they could become a teacher.  An updated seniority list is to be released next Wednesday, so everyone’s on edge.  It reminds me of the classic movie Lifeboat.  Supplies are running low and everyone’s looking to see who’s going to be thrown overboard next. (What’s that scent you’re wearing?  ”Chum?”)  The sharks are circling.

For the record, my job is not in jeopardy, but those of many of my colleagues and friends are.  It’s not like the students are going anywhere.  If anything, we’re starting to see a slow exodus of students arriving from private school whose parents can no longer foot that bill. 

I always tell people that when it comes to school, I expect chaos, so I’m never disappointed.  That said, I’m disappointed.  In the state.   In the city. In my district.  I don’t have enough fingers to point.  

We’re not the only district in trouble.  The Los Angeles Times ran a story today about how teachers in that district have “accepted a new contract that includes no pay raise for last year, this year or next year, but will allow them to take formal contract grievances public.” According to the story, “more than 2,500 UTLA members could be laid off as of July 1.”  Ouch!

Freezing salaries opens yet another can of worms.  I start a master’s program (along with two other teachers, one who’s been RIF’d) next week. I’ve already paid $1400 for the first quarter’s tuition.  I don’t mind telling you that I’m getting my master’s for the salary bump. If salaries are frozen, where does that leave teachers like me?  

This is not a script with a happy ending  - Not for those teachers laid off, or for those left to manage herds of children come September. 

My son Taylor forwarded me the following email.  Food for thought.

In a small town in the United States, the place looks almost totally deserted. It is tough times, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit.
Suddenly, a rich tourist comes to town.
He enters the town’s only hotel, lays a 100 dollar bill on the reception counter as a deposit, and goes to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to pick one.
The hotel proprietor takes the 100 dollar bill and runs to pay his debt to the butcher.
The butcher takes the 100 dollar bill, and runs to pay his debt to the pig farmer.
The pig farmer runs to pay his debt to the supplier of his feed and fuel.
The supplier of feed and fuel takes the 100 dollar bill and runs to pay his debt to the town’s prostitute that in these hard times, gave her “services” on credit.
The hooker runs to the hotel, and pays off her debt with the 100 dollar bill to the hotel proprietor to pay for the rooms that she rented when she brought her clients there.
The hotel proprietor then lays the 100 dollar bill back on the counter so that the rich tourist will not suspect anything.

At that moment, the tourist comes down after inspecting the rooms, and takes back his 100 dollar bill, saying that he did not like any of the rooms, and leaves town.
No one earned anything. However, the whole town is now without debt, and looks to the future with a lot of optimism.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how the United States Government and the State of California are doing business today.

Computer Says No June 15, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Entertainment.
Tags: , , , , , , ,
3 comments

My friend Bev in England introduced me to British comedienne Catherine Tate when she posted a link to one of her sketches on Youtube. (You’ll find it in comments on Seeing Red.)  Tate has appeared on Little Britain and The Catherine Tate Show.  Whooies know her as Dr. Who’s most recent companion, Donna Noble.  

When I mentioned Catherine Tate to my English friend Lesley (who I think could do a spot on impression of Tate’s cheeky Lauren Cooper character), she told me her favorite bit from Little Britain is “Computer Says No.”   Comedian David Walliams plays Carol Beer, who provides the world’s worst customer service.  In the first season, Carol worked at a bank, then at a travel agency, and most recently at a hospital.  These sketches are so well known in the UK, that “Computer says no” has become part of the lexicon.

In each sketch, every inquiry from a customer is answered with the “computer says no,” which is followed by a cough.  There are probably a dozen variations of this on Youtube, and in each one the cough comes at a different point, which always keeps you guessing.

Lesley, who manages the local library in Framlingham, England, relayed this story.  A 95-year-old woman came into the library and asked if a book was available.  Lesley typed in the title and couldn’t help but say in her most deadpan voice, “The computer says no.”  The woman paused for a second and then said, “Aren’t you going to cough?”  Enjoy.

The Party’s Over June 13, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Politics, Teaching.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
4 comments

 

donkey2

 

 

The notice was put in the teachers’ mailboxes today (Friday afternoon).  The bottom line – Due to the state of California’s severe budget crisis, the gates of Hell have been thrown open. We’d already been told that class sizes in September were going from 20 to 22.  But today we were informed that class sizes could go to 25, or as high as 31.   Oh, and that there could be layoffs of teachers as late as August 15th. There was no Happy Hour today.   The mood amongst teachers was bewildered, even somber.  

My first year of teaching was in 1997, when the state had just reduced the class size in grades K-3 to 20 to 1.  Oh, the stories the veteran teachers could tell – of teaching 35 of those wiggley, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom!” first graders.  And they were still standing (the teachers that is).  I’m afraid that 20 to 1 is all I’ve ever known.  I did a stint of student teaching in the fourth grade where the class size is typically 30+, but those kids are big and can sit in a chair (okay, most of them).  It took me three weeks just to memorize all of their names.

I’m not worried about my job.  This is my fifth year with the district, but other colleagues, who are also my friends, aren’t so lucky.  When the first round of RIFs (Reduction in Force notices) went out on March 15, teachers lower in seniority were put on notice.  In years past, this was always a formality, and they were hired back come September, when the classes filled up.  But these are strange times.

According to the local paper, 160 students at a local Christian school are leaving due to their parents’ own budget crises.  I’m pretty sure those kids will be coming to a school near me,  and it will have the word “public” in in. But, how this will sort itself out is anybody’s guess.

It didn’t help that the news came after a long day of trying to pack up the classroom while keeping the students busy engaged.  I believe I am the only teacher in history to accomplish this without showing the students a movie.   A group of boys constructed an Amazonian forest in a huge cardboard box, while another group of students was busy “stitching” on their burlap flags. Stitching is not to be confused with “sewing,”  which is a girlie pursuit.   I fashioned “needles” out of paperclips and the kids went to town and did a surprisingly good job.  Only later another teacher informed me that there were in fact real big plastic needles the kids could have used.  Oh.  I’m big at reinventing the wheel, 

I only mention this because none of these activities would be possible with 30 plus kids in the room.  Someone literally might poke their neighbor’s eye out with that paperclip due to lack of elbow room.  Come September, space in my classroom could be disappearing as rapidly as the rain forest in the Amazon.  

This gives a whole new meaning to June Gloom in Southern California.

Photo credit:  The Unruly Birthday Party  by Jan Marshall.

Seeing Red June 5, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Personal.
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
9 comments

ginger

 

 

Better dead than red.  That was my mother’s take on red hair.  So it was my misfortune to have been born with red hair (as was my mother’s).  There are gorgeous photos of my mother in college, but alas they’re all in black and white.  So, there’s not even any hard evidence that my mother ever was a redhead.  

My mother always felt that her red hair made her stand out, something she was loathe to do.  As a child, I watched her mix the magic solution that changed her hair to a color that can best be called basic brown.  

She mixed two shades of Nice ‘n Easy hair color to get just the right color for me.  I called it “House Mouse Brown.”  Can hair actually look beige?

Many people assume that with my red hair and green eyes, I must be of Irish ancestry.  But my ancestors were from England, Wales, Scotland, and Germany.  Scotland actually has the highest proportion of redheads with 13 percent having red hair and 40 percent possessing the recessive red hair gene.  Even my father had reddish sideburns that emerged in middle age and remained red long after his hair started going gray.

While my hair was strawberry blond, my younger brother’s hair was carrot red. My mother tried to talk my brother into dying his hair too, but his defiant “stage” outlasted mine.

What I didn’t know (and what my mother didn’t tell me) was that for centuries “red hair was thought to be a mark of a beastly sexual desire and moral degeneration.”  Hey, that’s me to a T!  To learn more, check out Redheads: Myths, Legends, and Famous Red Hair.

In college, I let my hair revert back to its natural color.  And I finally quit trying to straighten my hair.  I had a virtual mushroom cloud of golden red curls and, for the first time in my life, I was okay with my hair.  In fact, I actually quite liked it.  

My friend Lesley in England is a gorgeous cheeky redhead, and she’s joined a Facebook group called “Ginger – It’s not a hair colour, it’s an ethnicity and a way of life.”  That’s where I got the photo above. I had fun reading through the group’s invitation to “live the ginger life.”  (I’m still adjusting to this “ginger” thing.  It didn’t help that they did an entire episode on South Park on “gingers.”)

I keep my hair cut shorter now.  I tell my hair stylist to think of my hair as a native shrub – low maintenance.  There are entire weeks where I simply run my hands through my hair and that’s that.   But now I know – Better red than dead! 

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And eat men like air.

                    Sylvia Plath

One Bad Apple May 30, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Teaching.
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
4 comments

3393095184_c7cdb181ba_m

 

 

The Los Angles Times recently ran a story about how difficult it is to get rid of teachers, who’ve been deemed, for one reason or another, to be incompetent, but have tenure. Yes, I have tenure, and yes, the first two years I taught,  I made sure I flew under the radar and didn’t make any waves because I wanted that tenure.  That said, I’m a damn good teacher.  

Actually, the majority of the teachers I’ve worked with, and work with now are good, if not excellent, teachers.  Here’s the bottom line.  Teaching is TOO much work (without commensurate pay), to do this job unless you’re passionate about children and education.  (Being a Bleeding Heart or a Masochist can also take you far in this profession.)  But there are those who should hang up their spurs and ride off into the sunset.  I don’t pretend to have the answer to this problem, but I do have a story.  So, I give you Exhibit A, (or shall I say Exhibit B, as in burnout).

I was in the Los Angeles Unified School District’s (LAUSD – Yes, it sounds like LOST and how appropriate is that?) Intern program back in 1997 when California was implementing class size reduction.  Teachers were in short supply, so anyone with a pulse was fair game. After six weeks of intensive training in classroom management, I was ready to be dropped behind enemy lines into a classroom.

My mission – Take over  a modified bilingual class (3 English speakers and 17 Spanish speakers) mid-year.   The teacher, “Dr. B ,” was moving to an administrative post at the school.  I was to observe him for three days (Think – Sitting at the foot of the master.)  Then the class would be MINE.  I was nervous, but excited.  I brought along paper to take notes, as I had so much to learn.  I needn’t have bothered.

Dr. B took immediately took a shine to me.  You should know that when you’re the only adult in a classroom all day, any contact with someone over three feet tall is a cause for celebration.   He pulled up a chair for me to sit in, then sat down beside me.  I thought I was going to see him in action, but he rarely got out of the chair.  There we sat side by side for three days – Sort of like a road trip only there were 20 others along for the ride whose final destination was supposed to be Knowledge.

Dr. B assigned the students a lot of seat work.  Copy this.  Copy that. Recopy this.  Recopy that.  This freed him up to regale me with stories about how he’d worked as a mercenary in Central America. Oh, the stories I could tell you!  I hadn’t realized until then that being a killer for hire was actually a career option.

These were obviously Dr. B’s glory days and he still played the part.   He drove an old Jeep and walked around the campus with an Australian outback hat that made him look like a deranged Teddy Roosevelt (sans monocle).  His hobby was hunting wild boar. When I mentioned I had a pet pig, I saw a glint in his eye.  I have to admit that I actually enjoyed talking to Dr. B.  But, what did I learn from the master?

When it was time for lunch, Dr B would tell the class a good 15-20 minutes ahead of time to get ready. He’d have them line up, but then tell them they were too noisy and needed to return to their seats. “We’ll just have to try that again,” he’d say and then have them line up again.  ”Still too noisy. Let’s try that one more time.”

That’s when he turned to me, and HONEST TO GOD, said,  ”A really good way to kill time is to draw out the transitions.”  I didn’t blink.  Then he rose from his chair and we walked the students to lunch.

Eventually, I dropped out of the District Intern program and left the school. Last I heard, Dr. B’s job as an administrator had been phased out.  So, he returned to the classroom.   And there he sits.

Photo Credit:  Mercenary by kojman47 on Flickr.

English as a Foreign Language May 25, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Language, Travel.
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
6 comments

chucks&tea

 

 

I’d like to think I’ve got Culture – only it’s spelled with a “K.”  So that’s how Lesley and I ended up having a posh lunch at The Swan in Southwold on the Suffolk coast.  

The bartender explained that we could have a drink OR if we wanted to eat in the dining room, we could have two courses AND a drink for a bargain price.  

Lesley literally sprinted to the dining room where I enjoyed gammon (think thick ham) and mash (as in potatoes) and a glass of wine.  Everyone was wearing a suit and tie and looked frightfully proper.  But when you’re wearing Converse aka Chucks in the UK, you can just pass yourself off as eccentric. We had the most lovely lunch and convinced the waitress (who confided her nickname was “The Rottweiler”) to take our picture.

Though we share a common language, I confess that when I’m in England I feel like I’m an English Language Learner.  Just when I’d gotten used to “car park” and “pegging out the wash,” I was inundated with a barrage of new expressions that bear repeating.

Take “Bovver Boots.”  While in Southwold, Lesley and I popped into Daddy Longlegs, where I sprang for a pair of red boots.  There were Doc Martens on the shelf above, but I loved the cherry stained color of the ones I bought. The clerk informed me they were handmade in Spain.  (I asked if a man named Manuel had manually caressed them, and she rather fancied that idea.)

Back in Fram, I put them on to wear out to the pub.  As we walked down the street, Lesley informed me I looked like a “bovver boy.”  Huh?  ”They’re “bovver boots” she replied, and then seeing my blank stare, informed me that “bovver” is the working class equivalent of “bother.”  

When we got home from the pub, us giggling Googlers found “bovver boots” and “bovver boy” in the Urban Dictionary.   I learned that they (and yes, Doc Martens are the ultimate bovver boots) are worn by undesirables looking for trouble.  Moi?  I’m flattered, though to achieve the real bovver boy look, I’d need to shave my hair and wear braces (suspenders).  There’s also a lot of saying “oi” involved, as it’s Cockney slang for “hey.” (Thanks again to the Urban Dictionary.)

I’ll leave you with a few English expressions that will add spice (and not just curry) to any conversation:

I’d like to p%ss on his chips!
I don’t know whether to take a p%ss or to comb my hair. 
AND
I don’t trust her.  She’s got one eye on the pot and the other up the chimney!

 


What’s Buggin’ Me May 21, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Travel.
Tags: , , , , , ,
3 comments

bug

 

 

 

 

The weather in England is fabulous, so what could be wrong?  I’ve been through two, count them TWO, computer adaptors, and I’m now running on the second battery.  T’was not meant to be.  But, I just had to post this photo of a poster I took in the window of a shop at Southwold.

I’m half-way round the world and the first thing I thought of when I saw it was, “Bug Girl (on my blogroll) would love this!”  

Lesley and I had an outrageously fun day in London.  We went to the National Gallery first.  Touring a gallery with Lesley is oh so educational.  She studied Botticelli’s Venus and Mars, in which Venus lounges while Mars is having a snooze, and announced, “They’ve obviously just had sex, he’s smoked a fag and is already asleep.”  I think these cultural exchanges are invaluable.

When I return, I shall post about our romp through The Portrait Gallery, the Tate Modern, and resting on the crypts of some of Britain’s most historic personages.  In the meantime, Lesley and I are conspiring to win the Turner Prize, and there are chickens that need tending.  From across the pond.

Always, Jan

Leaving on a Jet Plane May 16, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Travel.
Tags: , , , , ,
4 comments

jet

 

 

 

 

 

 

Forget what clothes I should pack.   I’m too busy trying to figure out which cables, battery chargers, and atomic reactors I need to take to keep me and my Significant Other (Mac) up and running in England.  Then there’s the cell phone and the digital camera…  So much for getting away from it all!  If you’re feeling a tad envious that I’m jetting off, just reread Time Zone Zombie – Asleep at 30,000 Feet.  Feel better now?

Photo Credit: Leaving on a jet plane by Aky B on Flickr.

London Calling May 9, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Life, Travel.
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
3 comments

 

picture-4

Screen shot of Lesley showing me her date book so I would pick a date.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m off to England, I’m off to see the queen!  No, not THAT old girl – My friend Lesley, a sassy redhead, who could teach the royals a thing or two about having a good time.

“You know this is all quite mad?” Lesley said as we chatted via SKYPE.  But it wasn’t so much of a question, as a statement of fact.  

But some days, I think the whole world’s gone mad.  Fortunately, I subscribe to the  ”Life is short, eat dessert first” school of thought.  So, when I found out I got accepted to graduate school (See Masters of the Universe),  I knew I needed to reward myself before I got bogged down with classes two nights a week for the next year.  And since the classes start only four days after the last day of school in June, it had to be soon –  before the end of school.

Lesley and I met via the internet less than two years ago.  When she invited my husband and I to come to England to celebrate New Year’s Eve  with her family in 2007, all of our friends thought we’d both gone quite mad.  (See Thinking of England)  But, we’re two crazy redheads, and yes, everything they say about redheads is true!  I once read an interview with a man who’d lived to be 105.   He said his secret to a long life was he stayed away from “wine, whiskey, and red-headed women.”  Poor old sot!

After Lesley and her family spent two fabulous weeks with us last summer, we both worried it would be too long until we met again.  So, I couldn’t believe it when she’d offered to pay half my airfare just to get me over there. I found a cheap enough flight, so I’m going on my own dime. I was able to sandwich (as in The Earl of…) the trip in between Testing and Open House, so I’ll only miss five days of school.  The MANDATORY MEETING for grad school is May 15th.  On May 16th, I’m outta here til May 25th.  

We’re taking the train to London for a day to see the art at the Tate Modern and the National Gallery. The rest of the time, I’ll be blissfully enjoying English village life in Framlingham where we plan to sit out front of The Dancing Goat cafe each morning, have breakfast, and watch the world go by.

I’m still deciding whether to take my laptop along so I can blog from the UK. I’ve been known to get “the DTs” (Digital Tremors) when deprived access to the internet for too long.  I’m SO not PC –  as in I don’t do PCs, so I might have to pack my Mac.  Okay, I’m taking it.  You should know that we redheads are prone to impulsive behavior, but we DO know how to have a good time.  

Can’t help but add Mad World from one of my all-time favorite movies, Donnie Darko

Teaching Sex Ed May 1, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Teaching.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
4 comments

sex

 

 

 

“Are you comfortable teaching Sex Ed?”  My interview for a long-term sub job as a 6th grade Math and Science teacher was going extremely well when this question stopped me in my tracks.  I really needed the job.  I really needed the money. “No problem,” I said without a moment’s hesitation.

Middle School is a DMZ between elementary school and High School. Nothing prepared me for Middle School, except my own miserable experience in Junior High.  And just referring to it as Junior High dates me. To be honest, I was less intimidated about teaching Sex Ed than teaching math.  The principal informed me that the regular teacher had fallen off a desk while hanging a project up from the ceiling and was out on disability. (Later, I learned there was more to it than that, but that’s between you and me.) 

I taught one period of math followed by one period of science with the same students twice a day.  The good part was I got to keep the good students for TWO whole periods.  The bad part was I got to keep the bad students for TWO whole periods.   The class was pretty much equally divided between Asians (mainly Chinese) and Latinos (mostly Mexican).  I had my token white student, who had Asperger Syndrome, and could rattle off the box office take for every Batman movie.  And there was one African-American girl named Princess.  Don’t get me wrong.  There were some really wonderful kids, whose parents couldn’t afford to send them to private school.  And there were some really not so wonderful kids, who already had two strikes against them.  Once the hormones kick in, sometimes it’s hard to tell one from the other.

If you’re like Middle Schoolers, you’re already getting restless.  ”When is she going to start talking about the good stuff?”  Penis. Vagina.  I just threw those in to keep your interest.  

During Period 4,  I taught Intervention Math for students who were more than two years below grade level.  This class included two Gypsy boys, who’d moved to California from Chicago when their father was released from prison.  They had never been to school, spoke Bulgarian, and were still learning their ABC’s.  I had another student, Eddie, who was prime gang recruitment fodder.  Yeah, it was grim.  If things got really bad, I could call Ed, the behavior aide, who wore mirrored wraparound sunglasses, and would escort the “offender” from the classroom.  Round up the usual suspects.

After the first month, two girls told me someone had written something bad about me in a book.  ”Does it rhyme with witch?” I asked.  They exchanged looks and seemed disappointed that I wasn’t more shocked.  So, I was less than thrilled at the prospect of teaching these same kids Sex Ed. 

Oh, I forgot to mention one small detail.  In the class next door, there was a 6th grader who was pregnant. Yes, the girl (and she was a girl) was 12.  The father was 19 and the girl’s mother planned to raise the child as her own. (Think “She’s my sister!/She’s my daughter!” from Chinatown)  The girl’s belly was already showing, and some of the girls wanted to have a baby shower. Suddenly, teaching Sex Ed seemed way more important than teaching the kids to calculate the radius of a circle.

There didn’t seem to be an actual curriculum for Sex Ed.  There was just talk about The Film.  And about the all important Money Shot, where the animated penis gets an erection.  But, I had yet to see The Film, so I had no idea what to expect.  Another veteran teacher, who’d taught Sex Ed for years, told me she liked to break the ice by writing PENIS and VAGINA in huge letters on the board.  But, I was a sub.  I really needed the money.  I did not plan to write PENIS or VAGINA in huge letters on the board.  

There were two Chinese-American girls, who sat at the back of the classroom.  Compared to some of the other students, who were 12 going on 21, they were almost childlike and sat two stuffed bears on their desks each day.  I couldn’t help but notice on the day we were to discuss Sex Ed, they’d made blindfolds out of Kleenex and covered the bears’ eyes.  

Day 1 -The atmosphere in the classroom crackled with anticipation.  I thought we’d start by talking about where our attitudes and information about sex come from.  We made a list: Parents, friends, TV, movies, music, music videos, religion, and books (including comic books with those busty vixens who ride shotgun to the superheroes).  So far, so good.  I was actually surprised at how easy this was for me.   

Finally, it was time for The Film.  We should have just fast-fowarded to the “penis rising” shot as the kids were so eager to see the rumored launch, they weren’t paying attention to anything else.   The star of the show finally made its appearance.  The animation wasn’t top notch and the tip of the penis wasn’t even in the shot.  It was like watching a bulldozer slowly lift a load of …?

After the film, students (some who were still flustered) were to write out questions.  All students received a piece of paper and had to fold it it up, even if it was blank, and drop it into a bag.  That way no one would know who asked the question.  I read the first question, “Do people sweat when they have sex?”  The class let out out a collective groan and looked at the boy with Asperger’s, who they knew had asked THAT question.  ”Well, sex is physical, so it is possible you’re going to sweat,”  I answered.  Okay, one down.  I grabbed some more questions.

“Is having sex really like warm apple pie?” “Why do women like to be handcuffed to beds for sex?”  ”What’s a dildo?” “Will drinking Mountain Dew prevent you from getting pregnant?”  ”What’s rape?” “What makes people gay?”  

Holy sh*t!  Some of the questions seemed incredibly vulgar, but I came to realize that these were the only words the kids knew. Some questions were so graphic, I couldn’t read them aloud, but had to paraphrase them, or just toss them in the trash.  When it came to sex, these kids knew Everything and Nothing.  They’d watched sex acts on TV and in movies, but totally out of the context of a loving, committed relationship.  

This is what I remember saying: 

Because I don’t like apple pie and didn’t see the movie American Pie, that analogy is lost on me.  I do like cherry pie though, so sex could be like cherry pie.

Sex without love is just sex.  It’s like brushing your teeth only you can get pregnant.

I’ve never known any girl who said, “Boy, I wish I’d had sex earlier.”   But I’ve known plenty (including my son’s friend who lost her virginity at 11 when she got drunk at a party) who said, “I sure wish I would have waited so it would have been special.”

If you were a sailor and went off to sea, would you rather your wife keep herself company with a carved replica of “yourself,” or have sex with another guy?

Rape doesn’t have as much to do with sex, as it has to do with violence.  It’s a way for someone to use the act of sex to humiliate another person.  

A good recipe for date rape usually includes alcohol.

The bell rang.  But, it was like the students didn’t want to leave.  Sex Ed was two days long, so we had  another day of Q&A.  As the kids filed out the door, I looked over and saw several boys combing through the trash hoping to nab one of the reject questions.   Eddie, the wannabe gang banger, offered to bring one of his condoms the next day, but I told him that wouldn’t be necessary.  

Day 2 – The students couldn’t wait to get into class and pick up where we’d left off.  

“Handcuffs?” Well, maybe some people find that exciting, but that’s all about make believe (It’s not like I was going to introduce them to S&M), and some people like fantasy more than others.  Just like when you’re a kid and you dress up and pretend you’re someone else.  Remember how you’d pretend to arrest someone and haul them off to jail?  They nodded.  I drew a line on the board.  At one end it said Some People (handcuffs) and at the other end was Most People (masturbation).  Think of it as a Sex Ed graphic organizer.

“Mountain Dew as birth control?”  I recognized the handwriting on that question.  It belonged to a girl who was the top student in the class.  The girl who won the DARE poster contest.  I’d ridden with her in the back of a police car over to the Civic Center when she received the award.   If she thought Mountain Dew might prevent pregnancy, they were all doomed.   “When I was your age, it was Coca-Cola, and that’s just as silly as Mountain Dew,” I said.  ”The only way to be 100 percent sure you don’t get pregnant, is not to have sex.”  

“What makes people gay?”   What the kids didn’t know (and what I didn’t tell them), was that my own son had come out as gay three weeks earlier, so this was a subject close to my heart.  I told them 10 percent of the population is gay.  Let’s see, that would mean that 3 students in the class could possibly be gay.  But I didn’t go THERE.   Children can be cruel and quick to point fingers.  But, here’s what I did say.

“If one day a year, all of the people who were gay had orange eyes, you’d be amazed at how many people you know have orange eyes. People you know, people you respect, even people you love.   But many of them are afraid to tell you.  They’re afraid that you won’t understand that this is the way they were born.  

I was getting ready to pass the bag again when Princess raised her hand. “Can’t we just ask you the questions?” she said, and I realized she was speaking for the whole class.  I nodded.

For the next half hour, students raised their hands and asked me questions that I can’t share with you.  Because what happened was between me and my students.  I answered each question as honestly as I could.   As a parent, I kept in mind what I would want a caring adult to tell my child.  

It was almost time for the bell to ring.  There was time for one more question, and this time I got to ask it.  ”How many of you would feel comfortable talking to your parents about the stuff we talked about?  The students’ incredulous looks told me what I already knew.  I reminded students that their parents knew a thing or two about sex (after all, THEY were here), and that parents often feel awkward talking about sex too.  As the students flew out the door, I saw the pregnant 6th grader walk past.  I’d like to think that had it been a year earlier…

“Are you comfortable teaching Sex Ed?”   Yes!  I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Photo Credit:  May is Sex Month on YouthCast by Youthcast1 on Flickr.

Continental Thrift April 25, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Art, Teaching.
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
2 comments

south6

 

 

 

 I’m still working on my epic post about teaching Sex Ed, but wanted to put up a new post just to show off  share the cool map my students made.  They cranked it out in a day for our school’s  upcoming International Day, and in case you’re geographically challenged, it’s South America.

 I gave my students a pile of what I thought were G-rated magazines (Really, how racy could Family Circle be?)  While I individually tested students’ reading fluency, the rest of the class sat out in the hallway tearing out pictures to match the colors on a physical map of South America in the atlas.  (The finished map is 3′ x 6′.)  

One boy took me aside to let me know he saw something “nasty” in one of the magazines.  I asked him if he could be a little more specific.  (I’m big on asking kids to be specific – That’s probably why one kid thought it was called the “Specific Ocean.”)  The boy mumbled something about a naked woman.  I told him it was probably health related and hoped I was right. But, in third grade, kids are easily grossed out.  I was more grossed out by all the pharmaceutical ads.  

That red strip is the Andes.  I thought about sharing the story of Survived! with my students (a want vs. a need), but didn’t want to broach the subject of plane crashes and cannibalism – at least not before lunch.

Speaking of continents, (How’s that for a whiplash-inducing segue?) I found a rhyme that helps students remember the names of the continents.

                      The 7 Continents

North America, South America, joined in the West  
Europe meets with Asia, and on Africa they rest.
Australia stands alone, floating down below
And Antarctica is the loneliest, where no one want to go.

The best part is acting it out.  Ask for seven volunteers and assign each one a continent.  Have the “continents” line up (left to right): North America, South America, Europe, Africa, Asia, and Australia. Antarctica sits in front of the group.

When we say “North America,” the child who is South America drops to one knee and the continents join by locking arms.  When we say “Europe,” the child who is Africa drops to a cross-legged position. “Europe” and “Asia” shake hands above Africa, then lean over and  place an elbow (gently!) on each of “Africa’s” shoulders.

“Australia” drifts off to the right and pretends they’re floating.  (All teachers have a kid who’s a natural Australia.)  Antarctica crosses their arms and shivers.  The audience loves to get in on the shivering action too.  

At the end of the year, I give students the rhyme, and they can fill in the names of the continents.  Of course, then there’s the issue of spelling. Cue shivering.

The Mirror Talks – Reflections on Narcissism #1 April 18, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Narcissistic Personality Disorder.
Tags: , , , , ,
5 comments

mirror2

I never could have imagined that so many people would read my 3-part series Close Encounter with a Narcissist.  Or imagined how many people would leave comments detailing their own often heart-wrenching “close encounters.”   

When I check my blog stats (something us bloggers obsessively do), I like to check the “search engine terms” people typed in before they were electronically dropped off at my blog’s doorstep.  

In this new series, The Mirror Talks – Reflections on Narcissism, I’ll use a “search term” I’ve come across as a jumping off point for a discussion. (Please read the Close Encounter with a Narcissist  series first, or it’s like walking in after the movie’s started.  Shhhh!)  Here goes.

“Will a narcissist ever idealize you again?”

A close friend, who also had a friendship with a man with NPD, wrote eloquently about the idealization phase and gave me permission to share her thoughts. The following is an excerpt (with identifying details omitted).  

“During the initial idealization phase, the Narcissist shines a laser beam of attention on us.  We blossom in its unusual warmth.  Most people don’t pay that kind of attention to us. We find we like it, need it, maybe even deserve it. 

Then when the Narcissist realizes we actually like them, they think we must be worthless, because they themselves feel worthless inside and unlikeable.  The beam of light shuts off.  Then they shoot a death ray to ward us away.  They don’t want an emotional relationship. It’s a tug of war between them needing attention and not wanting any emotional involvement, until we’re smart enough to let go of the rope.  (How’s that for a mixed metaphor?) 

Narcissists just seem to be much better at the initial burst of showering attention.  And most people are starved for some kind of acknowledgement. I know I was.  When I met “William,” he acted as if I was the greatest thing at first. And he was certainly a busy, interesting person.  Yes, I was smitten.  Yet, when I look back we never really even had conversations.  After our initial meeting, they were mostly combat.  Abuser/user.

You know what they say about alcohol and alcoholics.  The first drink is the best high, and you spend the rest of your life chasing it, and it’s never the same.  Later, all you get is sick.  But you keep hoping, you’ll have that nice warm feeling again.  But alcohol doesn’t care about you!  Now, though, when I see him, I don’t feel anything, but I do remember how I used to feel.”

Sound familiar?  When I first read it, I couldn’t help but say, “Yes!”  The Idealization phase is just that – a phase, and there’s no real way to extend it, unless you go into serious game-playing mode, renounce your humanity, and just play hard to get.  It’s the chase that excites the Narcissist.  But that’s not a relationship – that’s high school!   So once you show genuine interest in a Narcissist, the exit sign quickly comes into view.  

There’s no way around this. This is a script with a beginning (Idealization), a middle (Devaluation), and an end (Discard).  I do think that people in long-term relationships with Narcissists (and so many who’ve written comments were married 25-35 years), live in a perpetual Twilight Zone of D&D.  Even though they are not “physically” discarded, they are “emotionally” discarded early on. How can they get back into the Narcissist’s good graces?  It’s simple.  They can’t.

But what if…?   Those who’ve had a short-term “close encounter” often believe it’s possible to recapture that “magic.”  To call for a “do-over” – this time with a different result.  What they don’t understand is that all magic is about illusion. Smoke and mirrors, as in, it’s all an act.   Any contact with the Narcissist after the initial D&D is just a sequel to the original show. And how many sequels to you know that are better than the original  (The Godfather excluded)?

Think of the NS (Narcissistic Supply) a Narcissist derives from a victim, who repeatedly returns for more.   Inside, the Narcissist feels worthless and unlovable, so he/she views any person who continues to be drawn to him/her as inferior, or to put it bluntly – a loser.   All the more reason to kick that person to the curb – yet again.  Elisse Stuart wrote about this in “Narcissistic Curtain Calls.”  A Narcissist might reel you back in one more time, not because they idealize you or miss you, but just to prove to themselves they can.  Then the D&D begins anew.  It’s the sinister human equivalent to the fisherman’s catch and release.

So the answer to the question, “Will a narcissist ever idealize you again?” is NO.  I reached this conclusion in my head, long before I reached it in my heart.  It’s an emotional tug of war, and you can only win when you let go of the rope.

 

 

 

The Zen of Gardening April 13, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Gardening, Hobbies.
Tags: , , , , , , ,
6 comments

slow-progress1

Growing up, my gardening experience was limited to weeding one very small strawberry patch, which was also our dog Holly’s favorite pooping spot.  To this day, I always wash strawberries one more time – just in case.  

In the suburbs, people didn’t actually garden as they were too busy slavishly maintaining The Lawn.  One of my enduring memories is of driving past our neighbor’s house and seeing him sitting out in the front yard after dinner every night with a bucket, methodically digging up dandelions. Night…after night… after night.  What a monumental waste of time, I thought.  You go to work all day in a cubicle (though cubicles had yet to be invented and popularized by Dilbert) and come home to THIS.  But I was young, so what did I know? 

In 1996, we bought our first house and the pipeline of “Better Homes & Gardens” began flowing (Thanks Mom).  I realized that I actually liked getting my hands dirty and watching the bugs and worms scuttle off when I overturned a rock. (See Bugs Don’t Bug Me.)  Rabid do-it-yourselfers, my husband and I broke out the concrete patio, then meticulously reset the broken pieces of concrete in a bed of mortar with a scattering of polished black stream stones.

In the middle of our new and improved patio, we planted two queen palm trees inside a 3-foot high circular concrete planter.  My husband and I personally hand-mixed 42 bags of concrete to pull this off in a day (with only one emergency trip to Home Depot to buy MORE concrete). When I look at the planter now, the only logical explanation for undertaking such a project is demonic possession.  

We planted a variety of plants around the base of the palms.  Strawberries for our pig (above dog pooping level), some bulbs, a succulent, and ivy so it cascades over the top of the planter, which is outlined in bricks.

One night my husband noticed I was hovering over the planter, which I’d come to do more often than not. Night…after night…after night.  I fussed over every incursion by a weed and meticulously clipped away any leaf that dared to go brown on the tip.  What was happening to me?  

I’d started teaching, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that my first three years of teaching, I had horrible classes.  Horrible.  I’d often come home feeling overwhelmed and then have to start calling parents about what their little darling had done that day.  It was incredibly stressful.

That’s when it hit me.  So much of my life was out of control, and the one thing I felt I could control was a little patch of dirt.  Suddenly, my heart went out for that neighbor from my childhood.  After a day at a mind numbing job, he was out picking dandelions most likely for the same reason I was hovering over my “garden” with manicure scissors.  To keep his sanity. To keep his head from exploding a la Scanners.

What better place to clear your head, but in the garden, where you can lapse into the rhythms of nature and use your hands to do something besides double click.  I can’t think of anything more zen than whiling away quality time in the garden, allowing your soul to feast on the beauty of the natural world.

I’m feeling settled as a teacher these days, and my newfound serendipity shows in my gardening, which is sporadic and in spurts. My husband likes to say there’s nothing I like better to do than sit out in the dirt.  It’s true, I’ve no need for those high tech knee pads, as I just plunk myself down and get to work.  I’m a Taurus and that IS an earth sign.  I wonder.

Not long ago, my husband wandered out back looking for me.  Not seeing me, he stood still for a moment until he could hear me.  I was sitting in the dirt behind a giant perennial, pruning.  Clip.  Clip.  Clip.  My jeans were encrusted with dirt, as was my face.  He took in the view. “You know, back in the pioneer days,” he said, “If you’d been kidnapped by Indians, you’d would have SO gone native.”

You know, I think that’s one of the nicest compliments my husband has ever paid me.

Kvetching About Testing April 11, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Teaching.
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
3 comments
testing1

My favorite book about high stakes testing. The cafeteria serves students salmon because it's good for their brains. Available on Amazon.

Spring has sprung, and as teachers know, April showers bring May flowers testing. Yes, it will soon be time for The TEST.  For students in California, it’s the CST.  High stakes testing that will determine our school’s API (Academic Performance Index), an academic Scarlet Letter that we’ll have to wear in public for an entire year.  Public stoning is a possibility, though for most of us, it’s more about self-flagellation.  Yes, it’s “No Child Left Behind” (or only a few children and hopefully one of them is not yours).  

All of the learning and teachable moments that I’ve shared with my students since September pale in comparison with their performance on The Test.  It is the ultimate trump card and though I’ve taught my students every test-taking strategy on the planet (at least on mine), in the end they’re flying solo.  Unlike in Second Grade, where teachers can read the directions aloud, in Third Grade, students read the directions by themselves.  (Despite all my admonitions, I cross my fingers that they’ll bother to read the directions!)

We have only three more weeks to “prepare” our students for testing.  On our first day back from Spring Break, we’re spending part of our Professional Development day making motivational posters to inspire students.  This is the closest I’ll ever come to being a cheerleader.  Rah rah. 

I don’t believe for a minute that all this emphasis on testing is a reliable indicator of what children have actually learned or are capable of.  Yes, testing provides a measure of accountability, which is necessary, but really! Even my principal, at a recent staff meeting, worried out loud that all this emphasis on test results could lead to “unethical behavior,” or as one teacher shouted out, “You mean, teachers might cheat!”  

The temptation to cheat is a legitimate concern.  Especially with talk about putting students’ test scores in a teacher’s record (as in, “This will go down on your permanent record.”)  Then there’s that talk about financially rewarding teachers based on their students’ test scores. If that were the case, who’d want to teach my class? (Many students who are chronically playing “catch up” because they’re learning English.)

My students have come so far since September, but like a proud mother, I might be a tad biased. Our school librarian still laughs every time she remembers how my new boy from Korea turned to me when checking out a book and asked, “What’s my last name?”  Should I be worried?  Hell, yes! It might say “Miracle Worker” on my coffee cup, but it’s my students who move in mysterious ways (which might explain why they so frequently fall out of their chairs).

A week of testing awaits in May, and once the “offices” (manilla folders stapled together to discourage wandering eyes) go up, I can only cross my fingers, and look to the heavens.  I’m still hoping that April showers WILL bring May flowers.  


Jonathan Winters LOL April 7, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Entertainment, TV/Film.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
3 comments

cropjonathan

For the last four years, my husband, Richard, has been working on a film about the legendary comedian Jonathan Winters.  This has been one interesting ride.  While Richard schmoozes with Sarah Silverman and Jimmy Kimmel, I’m at school on yard duty and confiscating Hot Cheetos.  

Sometimes I do get lucky though and come home to find leftovers from one of Richard’s infamous lunches with Jonathan at Piatti’s in Montecito.   Then I get to forgo Lean Cuisine for a day and chow down on Pappardelle or Pollo Parmigiana.  I also settle for leftover stories about the day’s shoot.  After a long day in the trenches of public education, I can use a good laugh.

I grew up eagerly anticipating The Jonathan Winters Show.  He was the real deal – a total original.  Hand him something – anything, and he could do a shtick with it, and a damn funny one at that. 

Through a chance meeting in Santa Barbara, Richard and his partner, Jim, met Jonathan, who is also an accomplished artist.  What started out as a documentary about Jonathan and his art, evolved into a “mockumentary” with a supporting cast of some of the funniest people I know.  But then I think Ryan Stiles (from The Drew Carey Show) is a poker-faced scene stealer.  

Certifiably Jonathan includes clips of Jonathan’s original comedy routines from his show and from The Jack Paar Show.  I still laugh every time I watch these. You could call it a “heist movie,” as the plot hinges on Jonathan having his sense of humor stolen.  A stellar cast tries to cajole Jonathan and advise him on how to go about regaining one’s sense of humor.  If nothing else, it’s a film for the times we live in.

When I finally met Jonathan, he was wandering though my house wearing a cavalry hat and looked a bit like a long-lost Kamikaze.  The title of the film. Certifiably Jonathan, was inspired by Jonathan’s commitment in a mental institution.  Jonathan, who is bipolar, is candid about how his childhood and this disorder have shaped him as a human, and ultimately as a comedian. They always say that all comedy springs from a dark place, and Jonathan’s been there, done that.  Yet he still has that twinkle in his eye.

It was while making the film that we met Nora Dunn (SNL, Entourage) and her brother Kevin Dunn (Transformers, Samantha Who), people I now count as friends and are way fun to hang with.

What amazed me most was that at the screenings, it was the 20 somethings, many who’d never heard of Jonathan Winters, who laughed the hardest.  The film is brilliantly edited (and no, my husband, the producer and editor, didn’t tell me to write that), and Buddy Judge’s score is perfect AND quirky (Now there’s something I’d wouldn’t mind on my tombstone).  Jonathan is indeed certifiable – as a comic genius who paved the wave for a generation of improvisational comics to follow.  You can see the trailer and find out how to order a DVD on the Official Certifiably Jonathan website.

Dexter Bobblehead April 3, 2009

Posted by alwaysjan in Entertainment.
Tags: , , , , , , ,
3 comments

dexterbobble1

Whoa!  As one who’s used to straddling the boundary between good taste and – well, fun, I couldn’t help but get excited when my personal trainer, Louis, showed me his Dexter Bobblehead doll tonight.  Louis also shares my addiction to all things Dexter (see Why I Love Dexter), so we have lots to talk about besides deltoids.  (I think that’s a muscle group, but he could be talking about Altoids for all I know.)

The box says “America’s Favorite Serial Killer” and “Some might say he’s making the world a better place – one murder at a time.”  And what’s Dexter holding behind his back?  No need for a spoiler alert cause I’ll never tell. This is the OFFICIAL bobblehead produced, no doubt, by hardworking children in China, who are wondering what sport this “Dexter” guy plays.  But as the package warns, this is only for those 18 and older.

To find out more, go to BIFBANGPOW.com    You can also order Dexter’s sister Deb’s bobblehead, or opt for the Dexter action figure instead.  (duct tape and trash bags sold separately).  Call me sick, but it beats those Bratz dolls! At BIFBANGPOW, you’ll also find a sh@tload of pop culture merchandise.  Buoy the economy by buying a Rod Serling action figure or check out the Twilight Zone stuff.  (Cue Twilight Zone music).  Wow, I can just picture Rod Serling narrating what’s been happening with the economy. I wonder how this episode will turn out?