I Meant to Tell You before I Forget: a creative writing experience

I love teaching "I Meant to Tell You" themed poems. I first heard this lesson from a teacher during a demonstration on copychange poetry while facilitating the Ozarks Writing Project's Summer Institute. I quickly purchased my own copy of James Stevensons' children's book, I Meant to Tell You,  and modified this into a more organic and natural narrative writing opportunity for my students.

This lesson is easily adaptable for all grades levels.  I enjoy teaching it in my English IV class with seniors, particularly at the beginning of their last semester of high school. Seniors in America are often just beginning to think about "what's next?" I try to get my students to not only think about what's next, but also what is now, and what was then? I want to guide their thoughts toward the people who have helped them along the path of their first 18 years, and help place value on the relationships with family, friends, and significant adults in their lives. This lesson guides students through a series of memories and creates a platform to share their connection with someone close to them.

It varies in how I present this lesson. Sometimes I read Stevenson's book as an opener, lead the students in writing, and then follow that with previous students samples and my own poem about my grandmother. Sometimes we begin with the freewriting questions and then provide the samples afterwards. It generally takes two 48-minute classes, or one full 90-minute block.

Ms. Daugherty and Grandma Susie, Valentine's Day, 2007

With all writing, we begin by freewriting, but before we do so, I share my personal writing story and a photo of my Grandma Susie. "This is the mother of my mother" I explain to the students, "and after my mother died when I was 10, this woman became one of the single, most influential and significant women in my life." I go on to talk about the poem I wrote to her for Mother's Day, 2008, based from this writing we are about to do, and I let them know that her death in 2011 is still a painful grief for me to bear. "The death of a beloved is an amputation" wrote C.S. Lewis in A Grief Observed, and I surely still feel physical loss with the passing of this woman.

As we start, I ask students to think about and write down the names of the closest people to them, These are the people who have made an impression or an impact on them; people who, if were not in their lives, would leave a significant hole. My grandma was one of those people for me. I follow that by posting one question on the board at a time, and then offer students three-four minutes of private, quiet writing time. I also let students know that everything they write during this session is private, not to be shared with a partner, me, or the class.

Work sample from a student
during focused freewriting. Eventually
this student may choose to continue
this into a formal piece of writing.

After questions have been answered, sample poems have been shared, and students have had a few minutes to talk about writing possibilities, writing time is provided. Options are available. Students can use the copychange structure, or any genre within the narrative mode; I encourage creative non-fiction, memoir, essay, or narrative poetry. (A note about the copychange: if you're worried this doesn't produce authentic writing, keep in mind this is a strategy that provides students with the skeleton model of a poem. Mimicking others is not uncommon. Walk into any museum and notice how many art students you may find sketching portraits. Also know the copychange style is sometimes a block for me as a writer. It feels like a worksheet; that I have to get it perfect before I write it down. I share these feelings with my students and show them examples of how I overcome it by starting anywhere on the page and writing in the margins)

Be sure to write with your students. Share in the messiness of crafting together words.

Below is my I Meant to Tell You about my Grandma Susie. I had the privilege of reading this aloud to her. It was framed, placed on the mantel, and eventually read at her funeral.

Dear Grandma, 

I meant to tell you, before I forget:

I remember growing up with you always there.

I remember we used to spend time at Bull Shoals Lake

When you and Grandpa would camp at Pontiac.

You always picked the prime spot--under oak groves overlooking bluffs

And always near water hydrants and bathrooms.

We would play games after dark by lantern light.

We'd clean the checkered tablecloths from the stickiness of fresh cantaloupe and watermelon

And divide up spoons and cards, or sometimes dominoes.

And then you'd bathe us in bug spray and bury us under sleeping bags and blankets in tents.

When I was little and spent the night at your house

You'd sleep in Rick's twin bed beside me,

I asked "Did you lock the door?"

You said "I never lock the door! But tonight I did."

You told me it was because there is something precious in the house.

I looked up out the window from the bed, afraid of approaching thunderstorms.

You said, "Grandpa will take us to the basement if it gets bad."

I fell asleep snuggled with stuffed animals and you.

By morning, you'd be back in your bed next to Grandpa.

I woke up early and crawled in beside you to watch the Smurfs.

Grandpa brought us bacon and juice.

A Saturday morning breakfast in bed.

The first time I remember you visiting Gainesville

You brought strawberries in a picnic basket.

We made homemade ice cream on the back porch.

You sat on the redwood deck with Mom, and Dad, and Grandpa, and our dog, Lucky.

You talked and laughed and I brought you lightning bugs in canning jars.

I learned who you were from Susie's Flowers and gained an adult respect and love.

You gave away so much.

You hugged old friends, and made news ones before they walked out your door.

I wanted to become who you are.

I hope I am who you were.

You always said, "She teaches in Willow Springs," to your customers.

You didn't let anyone leave without them knowing my accomplishments.

But mostly, you bragged that I was Carolyn's baby and Lionel's daughter.

I remember you were there when mom was sick, I think

You knew it might be the end.

I remember, once, how the nurses wouldn't let me in to see her in intensive care.

Together, we watched the doors slowly close and heard them latch, locking me out.

And I cried into your chest.

You hugged me tight, and between kisses on my forehead whispered

"I wish I could take her place."

I never knew a love so strong.

One day at the flower shop after a busy Valentine's Day

You hugged me tight.

You told me you couldn't have done it without me.

It was a while ago...

But I remember growing up with you always being there.

And all the things we did together.

I meant to tell you that. 
Love, Casey
Mother's Day 2008

Six Roles for the Teacher, Five Roles for the Student: A Gentle Reminder from My Syllabus

It's DECEMBER! And that famous Seuss quote gets stuck in my head, repeat on "my goodness how the time as flewn." Because it has. The first day of school floor wax is dull, scratched and stripping away. Desks are in disarray. Pencils aren't sharpened. In fact, the pencil cup has only a battling few bruised #2's, lead broken, erasers peeled off. The end-of-semester weariness isn't just apparent in the stamina of our school supplies. Students straggle in late. Teachers make extra pots of coffee. Administration gets snippy about paper usage. IT'S TIME FOR A BREAK!

And then my fear comes alive. Break!? Wait. What?! Only 10 classes left?! No. It can't be. I haven't covered this? And I haven't covered that! Am I even on track or will we fall flat? (Sorry Seuss fans.) And now I feel it. I've been trapped in the rat race of daily classroom chores: planning on-the-spot mini-lessons and detailing clear structure for better management. I have lost focus on the overarching answer to the goal "what are we learning?"

We've just reached a milestone in English IV: submitting our final Senior Project papers for grading.  As their teacher, with this deadline comes a lot of thinking ahead. Yet it's so important to think back. Are we on track? Have we met learning goals? While reading submission letters for their papers, many students noted how helpful going through an extended writing process was. These students have never committed a full quarter solely on writing one piece--moving between drafts, conferencing with each other, writing peer reviews...over and over again. And while consciously I worry about quote-getting to all the curriculum-end quote, my intuition while reading their letters, and my understanding of the roles we play in the classroom, make me fully aware that we are, indeed, on track.

While together my students and I write classroom protocols and expectations the first week of school, I still (must be the teacher in me) list out in my syllabus (be it they are buried on page 3)
the roles I expect as the lead learner in the classroom. A commitment to not only what I promise my students, but also what I seek from them. 

• Ms. Daugherty’s role: 
• I will…
• provide you with deeper insight to improve your growth as a student; 
• help you diagnose and respond to your own learning needs;
• help you write learning targets and goals;
• lead the class in creating common scoring guides;
• offer guided instruction in class to help you improve on future assignments;
• and provide descriptive feedback to you through written notes and conversation.
• Student’s role: 
• I expect you…
• to self-assess your work;
• to track your own progress through detailed records;
• to contribute to setting goals;
• to act upon feedback and assessment results to do better next time;
• and to believe that you can achieve a high level of personal learning. 

And while we may have rushed through our poetry unit, and may not have gotten to Macbeth, these gentle reminders of our roles in class exceed the boundaries of content. These roles emphasize to me that learning doesn't matter if we cannot stop, respond and react to what has been accomplished, which in turn guides what we accomplish next. Isn't this the essence of learning? With that focus in mind, for the last 15 minutes of our final this semester, I plan to stop with my students, review our list of roles, and reflect on just how far we've come. Who knows what possibilities may be next.

Do Not Have a Plan for This, It Will Only Cause Anxiety: Fulbright Orientation Day 2

When I was finally dozing off to sleep last night after 1:00 a.m., I was amazed at how shockingly quiet it was. Then 6:00 a.m. arrived and the street below came to life with all the enthusiasm only an orchestra of garbage trucks and work vehicles can provide. I stayed in bed until after 7:00, trying for cat naps, but finally gave up and gave in to some yoga, which only consisted of an 8-minute flow of various modifications/challenges to sun salutations. I moved to two songs only: Snow Patrol's "Just Say Yes" and Bruno Mars "Just the Way You Are."


I gathered my iPad, Fulbright folder, and camera bag and headed downstairs to the Senate room for breakfast: oatmeal, slivered almonds, sugared pecans, a dab of soy milk, an orange, and a spoon full of scrambled eggs sprinkled with Tabasco. I sat alone because all the tables were full, and I of course, was eating at the last minute (8:35, and it closed at 8:45.) Karen (teacher from Alaska) and I arrived at nearly the same time. She has an excuse though since she's still working on Alaska time, which is four hours behind the east coast.

Our work space today in the Senate room. Can you see everyone wearing jackets!? So cold!!

We met at 9:00 to meet with the Chief of the Teacher Exchange Branch of the U.S. Department of State, Jennifer Gibson, who was a no-show due to an emergency at work. Awesome. I hope it was something James Bondish but with teachers. Hopefully we will get to meet her soon. She was followed by a beautiful woman named Edi, who did show, and she is the Vice President for Professional Exchange and Community Outreach. What I find fascinating about this experience is the respect and honor each person shows toward the Fulbrighters (I've learned this is what we call each other--Fubrighters--and we have already discovered we are "family.") The first thing each presenter did today was thank us for being there, thank us for being teachers, and congratulate us on the accomplishment.

Soon Craig Storti from Communicating Across Cultures took center stage for a session on The Art of Crossing Cultures. I think this was one of the most phenomenal public speaking sessions I've ever heard. He was so insightful, funny, and thoughtful with this words. A storyteller at heart. We took a cross-cultural quiz: did you know that Norway ranks the highest of "most trusting of other people" with a score of 59? The USA ranks in at 41. The country that least trusts other people is Brazil. Storti reminded us that people are not out to frustrate us, and that all the behavior of others, though possibly illogical to us, is always logical to the individual based on their values, beliefs, and assumptions. Much of the time was spent poking fun (loving fun) at Americans. One of my favorite things he said was that the starting point for Americans is not reality, but reality plus. We never view things realistically, and will walk away or immediately try to cheer someone's gloom, because "we shouldn't be depressed, we should always be eternally happy." We role played through various conversations and then had discussions on the importance of face, the locus of control, management styles, rank and status, and communication styles. He reminded us that we don't learn from the easy, and he gave us tips on how to work through cultural differences, and to stay focused on what brought us to become Fulbright Scholars and to be working in the country we are living. He closed with this cute clip. 


We worked our way toward lunch, which was a wonderful green salad and a plate of new potatoes, carrots, and steamed broccoli. Oh, and about four dozen chocolate covered strawberries and mini-cheesecakes.

Lunch was probably one of my favorite times today.

Mark, Becca, Steve, and Stacey. My UK peeps.

We had to sit with Fulbrighters from and going to the same country as us. I really got to know Steve, Becca, and Stacey. Stacey is going to London, but Steve, Becca and I are in the heart of England, Yorkshire County. Conversations were fun, and I've learned that Steve and I will get along splendidly. We placed two bets at lunch, both of which I lost. Not a good start. He's researching philosophy and how it's taught in the UK. He teaches in Boston at the high school next to Harvard. Becca is taking her two children with her to Leeds. She is from Tennessee and will study how the UK prepares students with special needs or disabilities for the living and working in the modern economy. I wish Stacey were going to be with us. She is so fun and is the Technology Coordinator for the Arkansas School of the Deaf in Little Rock. She will be surveying deaf educators in the UK on how they use mobile technology to serve deaf students. So neat. I cannot stop talking about or reading about the work of all of my colleagues here at Fulbright.

After lunch we sat with our country teams and listened to a panel presentation of previous Fulbright DA Teachers. Oh, and we also learned today that the U.S. Department of State has changed the name of this award, and this is the transition year. So, it is officially called the "Fulbright Distinguished Award in Teaching" as opposed to the "Distinguished Fulbright Award in Teaching."

The room where we met today was at least 55 degrees. I could see my breath. I drank 19 cups of coffee before transitioning to tea at the 3:15 p.m. break, and took a much needed step outside of the building to get a few minutes of sunshine.

From 3:30-5:30 we talked about our Capstone Research Projects. By 4:40, my eyes were glazed. I worked with Steve and Michelle (she returned from Argentina in 2012.) I remembered why I love teaching--because I move around all day. Sitting is not for me, unless I'm here:------------------->

I ate dinner tonight with Jode, and she and I planned a yoga meeting in the nearby park at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow. Dinner consisted of Caesar salad, spinach lasagne rolls and mushroom-stuffed grilled tomatoes. And more cheesecake.

I opted out of the bus tour of a few well-known D.C. sites, and instead cabbed it ($17) to the Washington National Cathedral. My cab ride took me right past the British Embassy. It was about 10 minutes away, but I missed the last ride up the observation tower. Sad for that. I was one of 10 guests in the building total, so Chris and Clay gave me personal tours of the outside and inside. I was fretting a little about not going on the bus tour, but this was exactly where I needed to be tonight. A little spiritual grounding often comes in a sacred space, and this is why I appreciate these old cathedrals because I do feel a sense of respect for an entity greater than us.

The National Cathedral has some phenomenal history, and Chris took me outside to show me damage from the earthquake two years ago, AND the Darth Vader Grotesque.

The Darth Vader Grotesque. Read the really cool history here.

I went inside and browsed through the stories the stained glass windows told; the Space Window actually holds a piece of moon rock from the Apollo 11 mission, and a some of the pews were carved in England during World War II: one depicts a lion (England) holding a snake (Germany) in its mouth. The head of the snake is the face of Hitler. Just before close I sat down in  pew to participate in a closing of the day service. It was me and one other gentleman. We read prayers and psalms in unison. I went outside after and walked through the Bishop's Garden. Dusk didn't allow for pictures, but I was at the point that I didn't want to take any more. The space was becoming more to me than an image could represent. 

I cabbed it back ($14) and had to stop at the concierge to tape a twenty dollar bill together that I somehow manage to rip exactly in half during the cab ride. I wrote and sent two postcards and drank a glass of red wine. It's nearly 11:00 p.m. and I'm wiped out from Day 2.

My tour guides Chris and Clay standing in front of the Lincoln statue and the story window of the turmoil the US went through during the Civil War.

You can't see in this picture, but above this hang the flags of all 50 states, and each week a flag is brought and the state is prayed for on Sunday. The 51st week is DC, and the 52 week is the nation.

Just me and this gentleman in the closing services. We read Psalm 31 together in unison.                                                   "Into your hands I commend my spirit, for you have redeemed me."

Breathe in Opportunity; Breathe in Growth: Fulbright Orientation-Day 1

Why I can't sleep. Too excited to start this!

Got up at 5:45 am, even though I tried to sleep in until 7:00. Couldn't sleep, for both excitement of travel and thinking how I am missing my first day with my students. I needed to sleep because I was up too late listening to the Cardinals victory over the Pirates. Rolled out of bed a little after 6:00 and unrolled my yoga mat in the living room. Did a 15-minute personal morning routine I created to match a few of my favorite songs. I was feeling a little anxious, so I chose a routine to connect and slow down my breathing--this to match my "yoga relaxation" playlist, which includes an old personal favorite, Redemption Song by Bob Marley, but covered by 3 Doors Down. I always open the doors, curtains, and windows during my morning routine because I love the soft feel and sights of morning. I knew it was going to be a good day.

Showered, cleaned out the dishwasher and kitchen sink (nice to come home to a clean house) and packed up my computer bag. I buy gadgets so I don't have to take my bulky old laptop, but it's been a work horse for me the last five years, and I can hardly stand to leave her behind. Techno-wise, I've packed my Asus laptop, my iPad 2, a travel keyboard, a Sony HX300 digital camera, a Canon digital camera, and my iPhone, which I learned yesterday how to unlock and to be able to use in England. Yay! I'll hopefully get on that process tonight when I get to the hotel.

I decided a carry-on was all I would take to DC and save as much baggage money as possible for the flight to Manchester. Although it's only three days, they are work and play days combined, so I had a hard time planning my outfits. I went with one set of yoga clothes, gym shoes, flip flops, blue Cole Haan wedge pumps, my go-to Calvin Klein black dress (this thing goes everywhere with me!), a blue/black checkered dress, a J.Crew grey cotton/linen skirt, white linen pants from J.Jill, a pink (my power color) dress shirt, two scarves, and a J. Crew cardigan. I still think I over-packed. I bought a dirt cheap weekender duffel bag from the Coach outlet that folds up into a small pouch...with all my clothes and shoes, it didn't even fit in the overhead compartment above seat 10D! There's nothing more embarrassing to me than trying to cram in a bag that doesn't fit, and then I realized it would fit at my feet, so I put up my computer bag instead.

I am landing at Hartsfield in Atlanta shortly...will resume this note on the next flight. 11:13 am...actually 12:13 pm.

Arrived at my gate, T-2, at 12:55, this after navigating through D terminal and riding the shuttle four stops, a bathroom break, and a stop at The Coffee Bean, where a purchase of a cafe au lait and a bottle of water cost $8. I was really hungry, but couldn't find a good place to get a quick to-go salad.

I tested out a travel outfit today: a green pair of Eileen Fisher linen palazzo pants, a Black Nike drifit tank (I love these!) and Sanuk wedge flip flops (like walking on a yoga mat!) I also carried my cardigan because I often get chilly on airplanes. I should mention I'm wearing a fabulous Wacoal t-back cotton bra. I am sorry about that info, but it's so comfortable!!! The verdict is still out about whether this becomes the outfit I will land in England in. I love the comfort, flexibility, and deep pockets the palazzo pants offer.

The flight to DC is 1 hour and 15 minutes. We are ahead of schedule. The flight isn't too packed, but of course my row is. Seat 22a next to the window. So far, bumpy, but we just crossed through clouds and have risen above them. The couple next to me brought on a tuna fish sandwich and French fries. I've vomited on plane rides twice before...and both times my seat mate pulled out smelly food. I will update later on the vomiting, but I will say my stomach is churning. There's just something about the lack of fresh air that encourages my wheeziness.

Note to self: I need a watch.

When I land I have decided to take the DC Metro to the Capital Hilton Hotel. I generally take cabs on work trips, but I have decided to save the cab fair since I'm landing in plenty of time before dinner reception tonight. Plus, the metro is easy to navigate and I need to start thinking about public transportation since it will be my only mode the next four months.

2:05 eastern time: 37,000 feet. Winds from the northeast

37,000 feet, but just a few inches above a down comforter.

15-20 mph. The captain has informed us this will mean a bumpy descent. The clouds look like a comforter an intergalactic giant could peel back and nestle down on earth to nap.

I plan to get on the metro at DC National, catch the blue line toward (forgot, but once I see it I'm sure I'll remember) and ride eight stops to MacPherson square. Once there, exit out toward Vermont Street, take a left toward K, and a right on 16th...or is that right then left? Too bad I left my notes on the kitchen counter. I will find it soon enough.

All the Delta employees have been so kind.

Let's just say I've checked to make sure I have a barf bag.

2:32...all electronic devices need to be stowed.

Now 3:22...at the blue line stop waiting. The metro was so easy to use and find from my gate. I remembered to run back into the house to get my metro smarttrip card from the last time I was in DC. I had $3 on it still, and I loaded $5 more. I was happy to remember the card since the initial cost is $5. I've used the same Smarttrip card for three trips to D.C. now.

7 minutes wait for the blue line. My view.

I came up out of the metro and crossed the street. Passed a Cosi and a Pret a Manger. I was so hungry, I wanted to stop in, and I've been craving Pret a Manger since Cindy's trip to London in June. I just love their sandwiches and baguettes. I realized pretty quickly that I was walking in the wrong direction. About face for a half block, and then right onto 16th street for the side entrance of the Capital Hilton Hotel.

My Capital Hilton room in panoramic view.

I checked in, super quick, and made it to my room. Fulbright has also paid for us to have the Internet, so that was a pleasant surprise I had already planned to pay for it when I arrived. I unpacked my bag and went to the 2nd floor to check in at registration. I met two of the people I have been e-mailing with since last December. It's nice to put faces to everyone's e-mail addresses. I got my bag of goodies, dropped them off in the room, and went for a stroll around the hotel and a few blocks down 16th street. I didn't take my camera because I was just wanting some fresh air and movement. Came back to the room and did a 30 minute yoga routine to open my hips and lower back. Traveling seems to tighten everything up. Here's the routine from yoga journal. At about minute 17 or so it got a little challenging for this novice yoga student (the spot in low lunge, twist, and grab your opposite foot--my hamstrings ALWAYS cramp when I do that. Maybe someday they will release.)

The Fulbright Goodie bag, which includes insurance AND a Visa card. :)

After yoga I had just enough time to change, freshen up, and head downstairs for dinner. I used to be able to walk into a room full of strangers and start conversations with anyone, but as I age, this is getting more difficult. I think that desire has left me, but I still have enough in me to meet and greet, and I first met a 2nd grade teacher from Alaska. She was a genetics scientist until eight years ago when she and her husband moved near Denali National Park and became teachers. She's going to Finland to study the research practices of teachers. I am HIGHLY interested in her work. Once I opened up to her, I realized that I was in a room full of amazing and interesting people. I began to mingle, and mingle, and mingle. I met science teachers, math teachers, language teachers. I am definitely in my element to talk shop, and I LOVE teacher shop talk.

I also had the chance to meet Steve, who is also heading to Sheffield Hallam. I think we are going to get along just great...neither of us have found a place to live or even have a hotel reserved for the first night. I suspect we will become fast friends.

17 US Teachers and 15 International Teachers at dinner.

The reception tonight was hors d'oeuvres of cheeses, fruit, crackers/breads, vegetables, and a variety of dipping sauces (hot mustard, spinach cream, etc.) A wonderful leafy and dark green lettuce salad started the meal, followed by baked chicken over spiral noodles and fresh tomatoes. I ordered vegetarian, and got a huge pile of fresh steamed broccoli over the noodles. It was just what I needed. A glass of red wine (a blend) to accompany and a cup of coffee to go with chocolate covered strawberries and a fruit pastry to end the course. More conversation, pictures, and now off to bed. I am exhausted tonight. Just after 11:00 p.m. here in D.C. Breakfast at 7:30 a.m.

I wonder how my students in Republic are doing. 

Also, I landed safely without vomiting. :) 

Yippeee! Made it.

My Proudest Moment Is Right Now

I wanted to tweet this, but I couldn't break it down to 140 characters. So I'm posting a quick note to my blog to remember that even in 2011 in rural, suburban, and urban areas we have kids who are breaking the cycle. I am inspired by this one, who writes in her Senior Valedictory Exhibition "my proudest moment is right now. I am the first to graduate from high school in my family. When I started, I was super nervous and didn't think I could make it. At times, I thought it would never end. But here it is; this is the last day, and I did it. It was a rough road, but I am ready to continue it. I will probably hit some more bumps along the way, yet I am ready to face them. I know I will be taking baby steps rather than leaps, but I will make it. I just want to scream to myself "I am proud of you!"
 
This was not something so uncommon in the rural schools where I spent the large majority of my teaching career. But now, I teach outside of a large metro area, and I was surprised by this. I did not know this about this young woman, and I spent a year with her in English IV. I admire even more greatly her work ethic and her attitude in class. She will make it! A few years ago one student wrote to me and his class "there's more to me than I let on." I have to remember this about every student!

Waiting for Super(hu)man to Change Education

I have to say I was disappointed in Oprah. And I know I'm also opening a can of worms by expressing that. There are definitely teachers who should not be teaching...no profession is exempt from this syndrome. And I must admit, there are many times I was an "inadequate"...and I would even call myself a BAD (embarrassingly bad) teacher at some time during the last 17 years of my career, and am I ever thankful I wasn't fired. Instead, I learned, grew, and worked through my inadequecies because I am in the business of learning. I know there are many, many teachers who are great teachers who have had lessons, units, quarters, semesters, or maybe even years of inadaquacy--but there are so many who change and grow and develop into an effective teacher. I would go has far to propose it's this way in every profession--from "not so good today at my job" to "wow--I rocked it!"

Teaching is hard, hard, hard work. It's a continuous development and when teachers are supported in reflecting on their own practices, learning what strategies are effective (which changes daily in this century and with our kids), and in not being evaluated by test scores, then, quite possilby, we could have an "okay" or "good" teacher turn into a "great" teacher.

I have a big issue with people talking about my profession and trying to "fix" the problem who haven't spent a minute, or wait, make that 282 minutes a day with 130 students for 185 days a year in one single classroom. It gets a little taxing and some days I feel like I'm a great teacher, and some days I wonder what in the world even happened today. I'm not saying I don't think we all can't engage in the conversation, I welcome this discourse--even those who are not teachers, but Oprah single-handedly silenced the voice of all the good and great teachers our country has. There was not one teacher on her "expert panel."

I'm going to see Waiting for Superman so I can join the national conversation regarding its content. But I'm a public school teacher and I serve ALL students. Rich. Poor. Hungry. Snotty-nosed. Whatever. I will see to it that every kid has the right to an education, a good education in my classroom, not just the ones who "qualify" for a privately funded education. I do not believe Charter Schools are the answer.

To my readers: This was an impromptu voice posted on my friend Kim's FB wall after she posted that inadaquate teachers should be fired. I had a lot of other things to write this morning before work--specifically regarding the professor trying to ban books in my school district (which I will write about later)...but her status was the first thing I saw, and I sat down to write. I have more to say on this topic, but thanks to my friend (and great teacher, Kim), for forcing me to start thinking through my own thoughts and beliefs about Oprah and Waiting for Superman.

The Promise of Cooperative Learning

One of my students wrote a semi-scathing piece about her teachers starting cooperative learning in their classes this past week. While she read it aloud, she kept looking at me sheepishly, unsure if she was going to get in trouble for chastising her teachers' new approach to learning and how much she despised this new found "cooperative learning." At first her peers acted the same way--looking at me unafraid to show their emotions on the subject, but by the time she finished her satirical piece and showed the drawing that accompanied her writing (administration and faculty with angel wings hovering over the entire school of students leading a Kagan-inspired Rally Robin) the entire class erupted in laughter losing their fear of any repercussion.

I laughed my way through this, too, mostly because I understand this students point of view. (Not to mention she has every right to her own opinion and expression of what's happening in her own learning life.) All of a sudden she's forced to partner and share her work in classes where she was largely doing her work individually. While I'm a big believer in cooperative learning and utilize it in my classroom daily, I realized long ago that 12th graders appreciate guiding words such as "find your partner" and "let's take 15-seconds to think first" over "Stand up, Hand up, Pair up" and "We're going to do a 'Think, Pair, Share' now."

In a strange sort of way, all of a sudden my class has lost validity in the eyes of my 12th graders. It kind of hurts. We read aloud our first poetry this week and afterwards I asked the students to offer up *snaps* to the poet. Where did I first learn this informal way to show quick, unobtrusive appreciation and feedback? The Greater Kansas City Writing Project-2002. Instead though, I was accused of being Kagan-crazed and brainwashed. "What?" I thought to myself,"Does he even have the copyright on "snaps after poetry readings?" Suddenly, my normal routines of collaborative and cooperative learning have been demeaned by the entire school going through Kagan training. "Oh no, don't hit me with another cooperative learning technique" the kids think to themselves. This new student perspective has thrown a kink into my once authentic and honest approaches to collaboration. Now, partnering up to share our work feels forced and not genuine, whereas before the students just thought my class was "different" than others and were inclined to open and share and learn from each other. I was intentionally cultivating a group of learners who were just beginning to learn that we do not learn in isolation.

Incorporating this Kaganesque CL into my classroom is not hard. I am 100% for cooperative learning. In fact, it's only a simple change in the way I word directions to the students. I was explicitly informed there's a "right" way to do things and that "we all need to be on the same page." I really didn't think this would be such a big deal. But to my kids right now, it seems to be. At the beginning of the school year, they felt like I was treating them as adults and with respect, but now, many feel like their knowledge and expertise as learners has been demoted by several grades. Where we once simply found a partner, we now "Stand up, Hand up, Pair Up." Where once we decided our own roles in our learning groups and defined them together, we now have "Sultan of Silly" and "Synergy Guru." Where we once had Gallery Walks (or sometimes Gallery Passes) that began with student-led discussion of what it means to walk through a gallery observing, thinking, reflecting, and responding, we now have "Carousel Feedback." I can't say I like the name changes either. It makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong if I don't say it the Kagan way. But for the sake of my job and for being part of and supporting the community of teachers in my school, I will do what's expected as we dive into learning what Kagan CL brings to the classroom.

The bottom line, I guess, is that Kagan provides answers. Answers for teachers who are demoralized and deflated from media and political ridicule. There's so much pressure on teachers for their students to perform well on standardized tests that teachers will largely follow any for-profit company who guarantees lowering the achievement gap and raising standardized test scores. Being told what to do and how to do it to get certain results is so much easier than questioning, learning, exploring, discovering, and reflecting on process. Kagan, in a nicely organized binder and a guidebook to accompany it, provides answers.

I guess this is why I love working with the writing project so much. I'm never given answers. And I never give them. I'm never given lectures on "what the research says." And again, I never give them. Instead, I'm valued as a professional educator and expected to be a curious learner. I'm encouraged to question and research my classroom practices, and then share my expertise and knowledge in conversation with other professionals. It is this tapping into each other's faucets that leads to greater teaching and learning. My biggest breakthrough in learning cooperative learning and collaboration came this summer at NWP's Recruiting for Diversity Institute. I realized that in order to build trust and community, it doesn't really take a coordinated effort in the balloon bounce or the untwisting of the human pretzel. Instead, it's the reading together, the writing together, the working together, and the sharing together that fully engages us as learners and motivates us to invest in each other.

(Author's note: Do I need to add that I think Kagan structures are solid and do provide opportunity for classroom conversation and learning? I hope not. If you got from this post that I do not believe in cooperative learning structures, then you're taking away the wrong thing. This post is not about belittling Dr. Kagan's years of research and expertise. I believe in them and have used them for years. But through the years, I've simply adapted versions that work well with my students. I don't believe Kagan structures are the "end-all-be-all" of education. There is never one right way to teach and learn. This post was simply inspired by a students reaction to her first experiences as a learner in many Kagan-inspired classrooms this past week.)

Who Inspired(s) Me to Write...

My 2nd grade teacher let me write a short story, "The Dragon in My Garden", and sent a letter home to my parents about me being a writer. I was hooked. I'm 30 years now into diaries, journals, and blog posts.

Writing gave me a new insight to its value when I started reading my mother's daily journal entries a few years ago, (she passed away 25 years earlier) and I noticed my own writing began to change with it. So did my motivation to write.

Although I never felt stifled as a writer during high school and college, I'm not sure I was ever able to explore my writing thoroughly, and I know I wasn't able to develop myself as a writing teacher until I learned to understand my own processing at the Greater Kansas City Writing Project in 2002.

There's an article floating around on Twitter right now from the New York Times about re-connecting with teachers on Facebook. I can't visit with my 2nd grade teacher anymore, but I'm blessed with teaching during the age of Facebook and just last week a former student posted a compliment on my wall to how I inspired her writing. Fortunately, I get to say back, "it was you, and all your classmates, who continue to inspire my own writing and being a writing teacher." This constant connection and re-connection continues to pull me toward writing and its value in my life.

Generation We

A while back I posted a video about Generation We. This video is from a website that builds on the fact that this generation is trying to renew a hope in their own humanity and in the world.

As a teacher, I hold this hope that the world will be a better place. Or maybe I should say it's different...not better. It's different than any other place I've ever been in my life. But that's okay. My story is not their story. My story is filled with summer days at the lake and a walk to the Pontaic Cove Marina for a Mtn. Dew and a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. But their story...it's different.

Here's a microcosm of the story of this generation.

Right now I'm sitting in a room with ten 17-19 year-old students. (This is perfect because I can actually do the math on this one.) :)

10 students
8 have jobs
6 have cars
All 6 make their vehicle and insurance payments.
9 have cell phones
6 pay for cell phones
2 pay their parents a monthly stipend.
8 have daily chores.
3 live with both their mother and father.
1 doesn't live with either parent

Aside from hauling hay in the summer and working in hog and milk barns, I can't name 10 people from my high school who worked during the school year of 1989-90. I'm not sure about vehicle payments or car insurance. None of us had cell phones. One of my friends didn't live with both his mom and dad.

I get frustrated as a teacher when I hear comments about how worthless and useless Generation We is. That "they don't know what hard work is," or "they haven't had to suffer through war or depression."

I don't know what the changes mean in our society, but I still hold to the thought that this is, by far, the greatest time in the history of education to be a teacher. There have not been any greater changes than over the last two decades...and to be a part of such greatness is inspiring.

Where I'm From

I’ve heard it been said that if you don’t know where you’re from, you’ll have a hard time knowing where you are going. This very idea helps us to think about our roots as we begin to know our place in the world. A few years ago I was introduced to George Ella Lyons poem called “Where I’m From.” I loved this poem and began writing my own “Where I’m From” each year. Today, I use it as a writing assignment for my students and hope it lends itself to a wonderful exploration of their past and sense of belonging in this world.

Click here to listen to George Ella Lyon read "Where I'm From."


My Where I'm From

I am from metal lunch boxes,
From Estee Lauder perfume on the bathroom counter, and tacos for dinner.

I am from the back yard swing set
A splintered redwood deck
A dusty ball court
A place to wash cars in the summer.

I am from heart-leaf philodendrons watered every Saturday,
The old English rose bush whose blooms clung to the bay window peeking inside.

I am from breakfast on Christmas morning.
And being resourceful.

From Susanne Mae and Geraldine and Grandpa J.
I am from workaholics and gardeners
From family men and weekends at the lake.
From “never say I told you so” and “kiss me goodnight.”

I am from church—twice on Sunday,
and Wednesday night bible class.
From Jordan’s Stormy Banks and Canaan’s Land.
I am from Brush Arbor singing and Dinner on the Grounds.
From Springfield, Missouri and Pennsylvania Dutch.

I am from homemade ice cream and Granny’s “Half as Much” pie crust.
Red-eye gravy and Springfield Cashew Chicken.

From dad, skipping class to shoot buckets,
and mom, changing into mini-skirts at the bus stop,
and the two of them stealing kisses in the ’55 Chevy two-door hardtop.

I am from the picture box, bursting at the seams,
old and sturdy,
that makes us laugh on Christmas eve.

Questions....Can you answer them?

Here are a few random questions I was asked throughout the day...that I remember...and I don't think it scratches the surface:

Can I work in your room today?
What would you say if I told you I was finished with my paper?
Why do all wars start with religion?
Why won't people listen?
What did you think about the guitar playing?
Was it good?
How do I cut the part about macro invertebrates and still keep the same idea flowing in my paper?
Will you rap for us in class tomorrow?
What should I do to my product?
Did you like the play?
How do I shorten this?
Do you feel privileged?
Can you show me an example of a really good introduction?
What did you think of the sound effects?
Can you tell me if my Found poem fits with the second paragraph of my paper?
How will I ever pay for college?
If I wanted to get a loan, what do I need to do?
How much does college cost?
I've already been accepted, but when do I need to tell them I'm going to college there?
Do you know where I can get a job?
Do I have to work today?
Who would ever, in their right mind, read the entire book of Gone With the Wind?
Can we take a nap?
Can Eric stay in my classroom third block today?
Would you send Kurtis to the office?
What if I don't pass the placement exam?
Do I double-space the Works Cited page?
Do you have my flash drive?
What do you think Heaven is?
Do you think I should combine these two paragraphs and cut the part about salaries?
Do I double-space individual entries on Works Cited...even within the same entry?
How do I put this information in a graph?
Why does someone think a "bad" Christian is going to Heaven over, say, a good Muslim or Mormon?
What does forgiveness mean?
What do you think about me writing poems to start each section?
What do you suggest I start with in my introduction?
Do I have to combine all the characters right now to write a short story?
Can I use the movie "Super Size Me" as a source in my paper?
Can I go to the bathroom?
Can I get a drink of water?
Can I go to the library?
Can I go to lunch early?
What color is that?
Can we warm-up talk today?
Can we stop writing?
Can you proofread my resume, if you have time?
Do we have to go to school on Saturday?
When are you coming to look at our products?
Will you wait until after Alpha Rho Tau before you take the collage?
Can I write a poem about my daughter?
What did you think about Nickel and Dimed?
Can you come over on Sunday to see my Senior Project?
We've found a way to make $288,000, want to split it with us?
We're dropping out of school, what do you say to that?
Can you print my paper?
Do you want to see my bruise?
Will you write me a letter of recommendation?
Are you telling me "anyways" ain't a word?
What does "Not Yet" on my paper mean?
WHO got the "Approved by Ms. Daugherty" stamp?
Are you sure you know what you're doing?
Can we all just introduce ourselves?
When is spring break?
Can I read my writing out loud today?
Ms. Daugherty, why you lookin' at me like that?
Would you read this for me and tell me what you think about the storyline?
Is there a way to call outside of the school?
Can I check this book out?
Did you like The Horse Whisperer?
Would you cover my lunch duty on Tuesday?
Have you had a piece of cake today?
Are you wanting something from McDonald's?
What could we do for our senior prank?
Can you believe we worked the entire block?
What do you think is right about religion?
If I had two different jobs but at the same place, are those two different bullets on my resume?
Is something wrong, Ms. Daugherty?
What magazines would you like to keep for next year?
What does it mean to write visually?
Am I the "responder" of the paper? Or am I the "author"?
Do I put my name there?
Which title do you like?
Why are you always running out of post-it notes?
How did you get so happy?
At what point do we stop all this nonsense?

...the program to kill handicapped children...

is the title that finally emotionally broke me in my journey to read War and Genocide: A Concise History of the Holocaust by Doris L. Bergen. I had to take a breath before barreling into it, but then came to a complete halt after finishing the opening paragraph:

Like Jews in Germany, people deemed handicapped also experienced the open Nazi aggression of 1938-1939. Hitler and other proponents of so-called racial
purification would have to wait for the cover provided by war to implement
murder on a mass scale, but by 1939 they felt confident enough to take steps in
that direction. They began with the most defenseless segment of an already
vulnerable group: the children.

And there you have it. That's where I finally let loose. A gentle, elderly man sat next to me on the plane and finally leaned over to ask if I was okay. He took out a handkerchief, handed it to me, and patted my leg. I could only show him the book's cover and he understood.

Probably one of the worst thoughts that comes from this is the fact that to a decade of children born in the late 1920's and into the 1930's, the normalization of Nazi power coincided with their child development...so these acts were normal to an "Aryan" child. So if a handicapped child in the neighborhood disappeared from his home to never return...that was normal. When grandpa, who fell to Alzheimer's and was being cared for by his children and grandchildren in their home disappeared, that was normal. When a van drove down the street with "Kaiser's Coffee" emblazoned down the sides and girls outside jumping rope would make jokes about "they are coming to pick you up to die", that was normal. (And just so you know, the back of the Kaiser's Coffee van was full of poisonous gasses that killed the lucky ones who got a free ride.)

I'm not quite finished with the book. I still have a chapter titled The Peak Killing Years to get through.

For now, I am sick and upset and although I have known about this my entire life (like studying the history of the Holocaust was normal to me in school) this book has been so insightful for me. Especially in regards to human nature and Hitler's tactics. He carefully plotted to pit people against each other, and he used natural human weaknesses that every one of us has succumbed to at some point or another in our lives to his advantage.

There are points of light in these moments of disparity, but they are individual...not on the mass scale that Hitler offered up his claim for Race and Space. But the Holocaust Museum in Israel offers up a memorial and lists names of those who found it in themselves to help the weak and vulnerable. They are known as "the righteous among nations."

So, in the midst of this book, I've questioned myself several times. Where do I go from here? What information do I take and what do I do with it? Of the notes I've jotted down in the book itself, I know I want my students to decide what is normal for them...and possibly debate this. I was troubled by the voyage of the ship Saint Louis, who brought fleeing immigrants to Cuba and were then denied entry there...and every port north of there along the Atlantic seacoast. I know, that current immigration laws weigh heavy with me and I want my students to know the impact they could have. And, of course, there's Darfur and Sudan...there's so much we can study and discuss. And there's so much my students can learn about themselves in hopes that if, ever presented in a situation where the weak and vulnerable are being taunted and abused, they will stand up and be known as part of "the righteous among nations."

where will they go from here?...

A milestone for 63 young lives has been reached at Willow Springs High School for the Class of 2007. Only 13 years ago, these seniors entered the new and exciting world of kindergarten. A world full of swing sets and merry-go-rounds. Kool aid, cookies, numbers, and letters. Secrets, mischief, scraped knees, and band-aids. A world where a helping hand wasn’t far away and a shoulder to lay your head on was nearby. A world where tadpoles and puppies made everyone smile, and fishing with daddy on hot summer afternoons at the river made long days go fast. In this world, curiosity reigned, imagination grew, and exploration began.

Today, seniors, you again enter a new and exciting world. Today’s world is a ride down the information superhighway, a step into new technology, and a jump into the unknown. And with this leap, a nauseous anxiety comes with closing a chapter in your life and beginning a new one.

Physically, life is much different. Metaphorically, life is the same. In this world, again, curiosity reigns:

Can I become a doctor? A lawyer? A teacher? The president? Could I graduate from college? Will I pursue happiness? What is life like in China? India? Europe?

And imagination still grows:

What if I added these lyrics to this measure of music? How can I paint Frankenstein as American Gothic? What types of dance express my freedom and my personality?

And finally, exploration is just beginning:

Where do I go from here? What challenges will I face and which will I conquer? How can I revolutionize the next 10 years? What changes can I make to the music industry? The arts? The medical field? The scientific world? The political stage? How will I affect my family? My community? My nation? My world?

What is it, Class of 2007, that will make you rise to new occasions? To continue your curiosity and imagination? To explore like the historians and travelers of our past and find new frontiers? As graduates in the 21st Century, I encourage you take a leap into the unknown world and write your symphony along the way. How will you make a difference? And what will you accomplish?

As a final assignment in my English class, students write a valedictory farewell speech and share it with their classmates. Through the emotional goodbyes and sincere thank you's, students also take the opportunity to say final thoughts about themselves or their lives. One graduating senior bravely spoke for what I think many felt: “There’s more to me,” he calmly said, “than what I let on.”

What more does the Class of 2007 have to offer? How deep does your surface go? Where will your intellect take you and how will you use the opportunities you have presented to yourself through your hard work and dedication to your education?

You have a lifetime to answer that.

Learning is like breathing...

“Learning is like breathing.” I tell my students this on Thursday, April 26, 2007, just hours before they are to begin one, if not the, biggest academic nights of their high school career. In what I like to think is my own little pep talk before the big game, I lead students through a relaxing breathing exercise and discuss how very similar breathing is to learning. All academic school year our Willow Springs High School seniors are inhaling—through research, reading, writing, and creating—and “at some point,” I tell them, “if you don’t exhale, you will explode.” Smiles creep along their faces, but most understand the metaphor. After a year of taking in, students enter Senior Project Night accomplished and prepared to share knowledge they deem important. “It’s your time,” I explain, “to exhale.”

Senior Project Night gives our students the forum to display work completed through the year. The Senior Showcase jumpstarted the evening’s activities in Grimes Auditorium, a display of all projects and products were on hand for parents and community members to observe, and students were present to discuss their projects with those who attended the event. “I’m so impressed with the passion our students have about their products,” noted School Board President Chris Rutledge as he walked through the maze of student work. “What’s happening is our students are intimidated with the magnitude of the project and find themselves honing in and focusing on something they are interested in…and when you pour hours and hours of research and time into something, we begin to recognize it as passion.”

Following the Showcase, the evening continued when formal presentations began at 5:20 p.m. at the high school. Sixty-two seniors presented on a variety of topics, from training coon hounds to tanning leather, from writing scripts to writing novels, from building hot rods to dancing the fox trot. And the beauty of this? Students didn’t just tell their audience about their topics, they showed their audience their hard work by bringing in products they created from and through previous research. Although I tried to relax students before it all began, it wasn’t long before the halls and classrooms of the high school were buzzing with excitement and energy. Willow Springs High School was swarmed with over 200 community members and students who came together to pull off another successful Senior Project Night.
Although students do extraordinary work, the event would not be the same without help from over 150 judges, 25 volunteers, and 30 student volunteers.

I would like to thank all who participated in some way to make the night a fabulous success for our students and our community. “Thanks for the opportunity to be involved as a judge this year,” said Faron Adamson, a board member for the Hartville School District and professor for Webster University, “The entire experience is an experience for a lifetime for these students. What a significant and real world project, no matter whether students attend college or head to the work force, these are necessary skills for any 21st Century job.”

One of my favorite quotes comes from Margaret Thatcher, British Prime Minister from 1979-1990. She reminds us to look at a day when we are supremely satisfied at the end. It’s not a day when you lounge around and do nothing, it’s when you’ve had everything to do, and you’ve done it.

Back in September, our students saw only that they had “everything” to do, but at the end, I hope they are supremely satisfied. Senior Lindsey McElyea said , “Now that it’s over, I’m so glad for this opportunity. I grew mentally, and I stretched myself academically, but most importantly, I had a chance to do something for myself and to give back to my community and to families in need, and that means a lot of me.”

chalk

if i stop writing...you stop reading...

Funny how that works.

I'm swamped and haven't spent the time I would like keeping my blog up to date. And a lot of things have happened since March 15, the last blog entry. Every day one or more of my students will make a comment like, "Oh, Ms. Daugherty...that's got to go in the blog!" One of the most humorous recent classroom happenings was when Joe, one of my favorite conversationalist, told me he was getting a new tattoo of Michelangelo playing the drums. So, to me, I envision an aging artist from the 1500's with a pointy gray beard wearing a regalia bonnet and Gothic velvet robes and hosiery from the Renaissance.

Knowing Joe, this all makes perfect sense. He's a drummer. He's an artist. I can see his eclectic tastes in tattoos leading him to make a choice to tattoo one of the most famous artists and sculptors of all time on his body playing his most favorite musical instrument.

No. I couldn't have been further from the truth. Joe is 18. Michelangelo to Joe is a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, and his hero from his Saturday morning childhood.

Knowing Joe, that all makes perfect sense.

I saw the drawing. And I used my own processing skills to put it all together. It was obvious. On Joe's sketch book was a beautiful, intricately drawn Michelangelo...complete with a jumpsuit, turtle shell and mask, playing a set of drums like a patriotic Civil War drummer boy.

I couldn't believe it. The sad thing, no one in the room thought of Michelangelo the artist. With the recent release of the new TMNT movie (that's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for all of you who aren't in the know), and Joe's obsession with the four pre-historic pop culture heroes, everyone automatically thought about the surfer-loving turtle who claims pizza as his favorite food.

Although it was funny, I am sad. I've seen St. Peter's Basilica. I stared at the ceiling in the Sistine Chapel. I stood mesmerized in front of the statue of David. I've walked all over Florence and Rome seeing bits and pieces of Michelangelo's work and never once thought about a green turtle.

This story also relates to a piece of literature I teach in my English classes. Geoffrey Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales is a collection of narrative poems about a group of pilgrims on their way to Canterbury, England to pay homage to a saint. The narrator challenges the group members to each tell a story on the journey, and a winner will be chosen at the end. The Nun's Priest recites a fable about a rooster names Chanticleer and his lovely lady Pertelote.
"Chanticleer!?" My students always quote with disbelief. "Like in RockaDoodle?"
"What's RockaDoodle?" I ask.

And then my students freak out on me and my incomplete life.

There and Back...with a year-long coffee break

After three years of teaching, I was ready to join the ranks of the statistics and leave the professional world of education forever. Bogged down by papers to grade, biweekly deficiency slips to complete, and committee meetings or after-school conferences to attend, I soundly realized this "teaching" thing was not boiling down to my idea of a career. With no classroom, I was tired of rolling around my cart and taking up residence in the teacher's lounge. I found life as the copy doctor, the coffee maker, the custodian, the parking lot patrol, and the lunch room duty attendant less than appealing. I felt as if I was doing everything but teaching. Surely, I thought, there's a better job out there than this? Consequently, I took out what little retirement I had and at 25 became a retired Missouri teacher. Knowing, as just about all retired teachers know, that I couldn't live on my retirement, I rolled up my sleeves and became a Starbucks Barista at the local Barnes and Noble. I now spent my days filling out orders for caramel macchiato's and iced mocha's and working full time on a master's degree. Life was bliss.

And then somewhere between an Irish creme latte and a non-fat breve, Manley called.

...and you'll get the rest of the story later. :)