What kind of schools do we want our children to attend? It is a perverse world that wants to pay to test the hell out of our kids (with invalidated and unsubstantiated "assessments"), but it won't provide the resources from which to learn (like books and classroom supplies) or even conditions that are safe (like toilet paper, soap, leaky ceilings). #fightforfunding #saveourschools #shutdownchi #realchitownrising

What kind of higher education opportunities do we want our children to have? In a state once celebrated for its accessibility, the state that most accurately represents the country's diversity, universities are being forced to close, furlough their employees, and demand payment from students in lieu of the grants already awarded but no longer funded. All because of a governor who has made it a mission to destroy social services and education opportunities for those who just need a hand to help them up so they can continue putting in the legwork. All because of policies designed to siphon even more money to the richest one percent (like himself) while suppressing the rest of us. March for our kids, the children that will abandon the state that is abandoning them. March for the students who are constantly told through testing that they must work harder to get into college, that they must have a four-year degree, and must take out exorbitant loans to pay for it. March for those who will be left with incomplete degrees and communities without jobs. Speak up today to let Springfield and Chicago know that the status quo is not acceptable, that we won't allow ourselves to be taxed to bankruptcy without anything to show for it. Fight for fair funding TODAY! #fightforfunding #saveourschools #realchitownrising #shutdownchi #firerauner #recallrahm

In the Dark of the Night by John Saul

In the Dark of the Night by John Saul

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

One of the things that John Saul does so well is make the supernatural seem real by inserting fantastic elements into an utterly believable story and makes it a thrilling ride. In this book, Saul explores teenage angst, summertime romance, class warfare, anxiety, small-town gossip and big-city politics, family dynamics and, oh yeah, the psychology of serial killers and the legacies they leave behind.

In the Dark of the Night is not for the squeamish. The body count ultimately rivals that of Carrie while the creepiness surpasses It. Thomas Harris would see a little of his Lecter in this chilling tale.

After getting a taste of the idyllic summer life at the Pines in previous years with his friends Kent Newell and Tad Sparks, Eric Brewster and his family finally has the opportunity to rent a house on Phantom Lake for the season. But their home is no ordinary cottage--it's a mansion whose previous owner, Dr. Hector Darby mysteriously disappeared ten years ago after the town's only other unspeakable tragedy. Eric begins to explore the unusual property before he and his buddies make some unreal discoveries. Macabre nightmares follow.

What makes In the Dark of the Night work so well is the way how effectively Saul captures each character through dialogue and actions. Other books I have recently read have been bereft of such details, but Saul scatters the seeds of suspense inside a seemingly ordinary adolescent struggle between Eric and local boy Adam Mosler over the affections of Cherie Stevens.

I highly recommend this book for those who like dark thrillers about serial killers.

View all my reviews

Review of The Sundance Kids

The Sundance Kids: How the Mavericks Took Back Hollywood by James Mottram

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


This would seem to be the definitive book on independent filmmaking from 1989's sex, lies, and videotape to the mid-2000s.Using Steven Soderbergh's prolific and varied body of work as the foundation for the Sundance movement, Mottram looks specifically at the works of "mavericks" like Paul Thomas Anderson, David Fincher, Spike Jonze, Alexander Payne, David O. Russell, Sofia Coppola, Kimberly Pierce and Wes Anderson to explore how the traditional Hollywood narratives have been upended. Of course, Mottram provides an extensive look at Quentin Tarantino's and Robert Rodriguez's works, as well. I especially enjoyed his examination of Charlie Kaufman and the screenwriting process. This book is a must-read for any contemporary film enthusiast.

The book is structured as a series of essays and articles framing each year's "class" from the Sundance Film Festival and the subsequent progression of each member. Soderbergh gets considerable focus as the "godfather" to these filmmakers by virtue of the splash that sex made in 1989. His career rises and falls and takes risks like none other, confirming the subjective nature of the movie business. Mottram is careful to note how Soderbergh's artistic endeavors seem to supercede the need for profits by the studios. It's fascinating how he shows that small films can, however, prove more lucrative than big-budget flicks.

This is the kind of work that makes one want to revisit each director's library of films, from Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums to Fincher's Panic Room; Payne's Election and About Schmidt to Russell's Three Kings; and everything by P. T. Anderson.

There are just two concerns of significance with this book. First, Mottram's apparent displeasure with the Motion Picture Academy awarding Oscars to some of the bravura acting performances at the expense of those found in films by the Sundance Kids. One cannot fault the Academy for those sleights without acknowledging the discourse regarding Hilary Swank's win (for her performance in Pierce's Boys Don't Cry) over Annette Bening's legendary work in American Beauty. Swank's performance was good, to be sure, but Mottram conveniently overlooks the fact that there have been a number of exceptional performances in independent and studio films alike.

My other complaint, however trivial, is that the Coen brothers are notably excluded from the majority of the book. There is simply a passing reference to The Man Who Wasn't There and little mention elsewhere, despite the fact that the Coens were arguably the most successful creators during the period covered in the book and certainly have provided a great deal of influence on the Sundance generation. These concerns aside, I would definitely select several sections of the book for use in a film studies class. For now, though, I will update my Netflix queue--I've got quite a few films to watch.



View all my reviews

Review of The Tortilla Curtain

The Tortilla Curtain by T.C. Boyle

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


In The Tortilla Curtain, author T.C. Boyle brings us a modern retelling of Voltaire's seminal work Candide. The story focuses on two diametrically opposed couples and the changing demographics of suburban Los Angeles--namely, the varied consequences (positive and negative) of undocumented immigration. Just as Candide was enduring one malady after another while bumbling toward El Dorado, so, too, does each husband in his respective journey.

This is a thought-provoking satire that challenges what white suburban xenophobes believe about "illegal aliens" who enter the U.S. through its Mexican border. It is fascinating to see how Delaney, a self-proclaimed New York liberal and environmental activist, steadily turns against the Mexicans thanks to chance encounters with Candido. While he is suffering relatively minor misfortunes comparatively speaking, Delaney finds his life gradually becoming more and more disrupted by the actions and influence of Mexican immigrants, or so he perceives. But were immigrants responsible for the coyote that attacks the family dog?

The real hero of the story is Candido, who, like his namesake, is subjected to a Jobean-level of tragedy and misfortune and yet maintains (at times) "the best of all possible worlds" optimism that keeps him moving forward. Not only does he unwittingly trigger Delaney's downward spiral into rage by becoming a hood ornament, Candido manages to persevere through homelessness, robbery, relocation and the constant, looming threat of La Migra. He loses some sense of personal pride when his wife America is forced to climb out of the canyon to work while he recovers from the accident. Any stroke of luck is followed almost immediately castastrophe, each bigger than the last. Candido proves remarkably resiliant and prescient and ingeneous and resourceful, and yet is impossibly hapless, too.

America broods, as she is expecting Candido's child and has no one else she can rely upon in el Norte. After a series of calamities befalls the couple, America yearns to return to Mexico, where she could at least live with her father. Time and time again, however, she regains her husband's (misguided?) optimism and still wants to have that idyllic home and American Dream existence.

Boyle uses Delaney and his realtor wife Kyra's Arroyo Blanco development as a metaphor for the "protectionists" who want to keep out "the Mexicans"--meaning all Latin American immigrants--by building a gate and then a wall, just like the efforts to build a physical barrier along the Mexican border. Of course, the Arroyo Blanco wall proves a mere obstacle for those it is meant to keep out, while it succeeds at restricting the lives of those who live within its confines.

Overall, this is an enjoyable and darkly entertaining novel, one that skillfully takes a pointed look at racism while reflecting on the fact one's happiness is derived from his perception of his world. Definitely a book worth reading--I would definitely entertain the idea of using this book in the classroom.







View all my reviews

Remembering

It was two months ago today that we lost my grandmother, Milly Lambe. In honor of her, I have uploaded pictures from an old album of hers.

Getting paid to teach rather than paying for the opportunity

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to teach a class for the first time while on the payroll clock. Granted, it was little more than babysitting a few social studies classes, but there is definitely something to be said about earning a paycheck after so long working on this new career. As I told students while I was student teaching, I liked the idea of teaching so much I was paying (a lot of money) for the opportunity. Substituting yesterday was the opportunity to actually get paid instead. Will it be much? No. Did I really enjoy the day? No, but I did survive without too much collateral damage. It's fair to say that I learned a few things, not the least of which was that I'd much prefer a long term position to the daily guessing game of not knowing where or what I was teaching.

Today, I received excellent news: I don't have to submit to the daily Rubiks puzzle for at least six weeks. Starting on Monday, I will be back at the school at which I did my student teaching, with a full slate of English classes. Tomorrow, I am meeting with the teacher for whom I am covering, getting lesson plans and a pretty good sense of what is going on. It is a school I know well, and I'm happy to report that it was the English department head who made sure that I was on the short list of those to contact for the substitute position. My guess is that a successful stint will almost certainly lead to a full-time position in the fall. At the very least, I will be better able to schedule my life, balancing out the completion of my class, other interviews and responsibilities with my office position. There will be long days, but I survived it while student teaching, so I can do it now. Guess I now have something new to talk about at next week's college reunion!

The Pursuit of Happyness

Successful entrepreneur Chris Gardner writes a compelling autobiography that is far more scintillating and dramatic that the film version with Will Smith. That’s not to say the movie didn’t follow the book or that it lacked heart, but the substance of the book lays a much deeper foundation for the struggles that Garner would eventually overcome.

One such element is the description of Gardner’s childhood in Milwaukee during the sixties. He details a life of desolation among the city’s poor neighborhoods and the struggle to survive daily ordeals. When Gardner discusses the actions of his stepfather, one can almost hear the stepfather’s voice and the misery he would inflict on young Chris and his family. Older and trying to eke out a living in 1980s San Francisco, the elements and distance and level of poverty all set the scene for Gardner’s journey into fatherhood.


The characters come alive as the dialogue jumps from the page. Young Chris, at that point aspiring to be an actor, asks his mother for money, only to get a lively response: “Well, why don’t you just act like you got five dollars?” his mother gives sage advice like this that reverberates throughout the book. Gardner does a pretty good job of keeping his character believable, letting the stories tell themselves. While the accomplishments are amazing, they are believable because Gardner injects everything with humility, acknowledging his mistakes and not exaggerating his exploits.

Throughout The Pursuit of Happyness, Gardner deftly invokes passion while layering the steps that would establish his desire to be a father whose son was his top priority. His determination is riveting, drawing the reader to feel heartbreak when his describes being homeless while trying to take care of his son Christopher and earn his keep at Dean Witter. We learn about his studying medicine while in the Navy and how his aspirations to become a doctor hit roadblocks. We journey with Gardner when he meets his birth father and we gain insight into his eventually successful career managing investments. It’s a gripping tale and an excellent choice for teen readers.

Henry Aaron's Dream by Matt Tavares

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


There are a lot of books about Jackie Robinson, but this book has an interesting perspective--it looks at how Robinson's breakthrough to the Major Leagues was a seminal moment in the life of Henry Aaron.

The illustrations are incredibly rich with detail. I have at least two favorites: there is one in which Tavares has Aaron looking at the lineup posted in the dugout with his name in the leadoff spot; another has Aaron sliding in to second base, ahead of the tag being applied by Jackie Robinson. With the first, I recognized some of the players listed for both teams, an element of authenticity that reminds me that with specificity comes credibility. In the latter, I could not help but wonder whether people watching that play in the exhibition game had any idea of what lay in store for Aaron's career. I doubt that any would have believed that he would go on to become baseball's all-time home run leader by the time of his retirement.

Henry Aaron's Dream is much more than a baseball book--it is a marvelous recapturing of attitudes during the Civil Rights movement and a lesson in perseverence. It also reminds us how important it is to have role models and inspirational figures that lend substance to the dreams we pursue. One can only imagine the seismic impact of Barack Obama winning the presidency, the importance of breaking that glass ceiling for African Americans. We are another day closer to no longer referring to people as "the first person of color" to do this, or "the first woman to" do that, and so on. I find it intriguing that, when growing up, I never gave any thought as to Hank Aaron's race. The books always talked about about Robinson and his Dodger teammates (especially Roy Campanella), Larry Doby, Roberto Clemente, and guys like Minnie Minoso and Buck O'Neal. But Aaron's story is integral to understanding race as it impacted baseball, American sports and American culture in general.

This book gives the reader an importance glimpse as to Aaron's development prior to reaching the Show, and I think it is a must-read for baseball enthusiasts, as well as those who are studying African American history. I believe it merits consideration for all ages, although I should note that there are two uses of n-word that could spark trouble if not appropriately addressed. While the use of the word does lend authenticity to the story, it likely spells the end of read-aloud opportunities without changing the word. Some others may believe differently, but I'd suggest a 'courageous coversation' in regards to the implications of the word if it is read aloud.





View all my reviews

A Northern Light by Jennifer Donnelly

A Northern Light by Jennifer Donnelly

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Set during the early part of the twentieth century, A Northern Light features Mattie Gokey, a bright sixteen-year-old-girl trying to balance her education with caring for her four sisters and father after the death of her mother. Her older brother Lawton has also left the family and Mattie struggles with taking care of the house and feeding everyone, particularly during a difficult Northeast winter.

While incorporating some of the events surrounding the death of Grace Brown—the inspiration for the Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy, as the book’s cover points out—the story remains focused on Mattie’s coming of age and her relationship with her teacher Miss Wilcox. Author Jennifer Donnelly does a tremendous job of illustrating the period, giving a sense of the family’s desperation and determination to succeed in spite of the elements. Mattie represents a glimpse of the challenges faced by young “independent” women, including the difficult decision of whether to continue schooling or to get married to Royal Loomis; the fact that she cannot choose both is a sure sign of the times.

How historically accurate is this book? The sensational case of Chester Gillette has been documented in Adirondack Tragedy: The Chester Gillette Murder Case of 1906 by Joseph W. Brownell and Patricia W. Enos, among other accounts, and proved to be one of the first “trials of the century.” Grace Brown was pregnant as the time of her death, and the letters that were given to Mattie in A Northern Light were based on the actual letters between Grace and Chester. Donnelly has placed Mattie at the Glenmore hotel, where Grace and Chester were staying Grace was found dead.

The book does not center on the tragedy described above. Rather, we see the efforts Mattie makes with her studies and the difficulty her father has in letting her go to work at the hotel. Mattie needed to work in order to earn money for her train ticket to New York, but her father wanted her to continue her role as mother to her sisters. Nothing is clear-cut about her decision to leave her family—Mattie likes Royal Loomis very much, but she knows that if she passes up the opportunity to go to Barnard College, she will never again have another chance.


Though there are times when the story drags a little, the richness of the characters and color of the period do keep us interested in Mattie’s plight. Her sisters, particularly Lou and Beth, are a riot, and the dialogue is snappy and endearing. Donnelly also uses an interesting device in a having a single word serve as the heading for each chapter, representing Mattie’s quest to learn a new word each day. We read along, curious to learn how the word represents that particular chapter.

This novel would appeal to junior high school and early high school students, especially those who enjoyed Little Women. It would be a prime selection for independent reading, though I could see it potentially being used in a local history class in Upstate New York. Donnelly includes notes after the book to clarify which factual elements she chose to use artistic license. For example, she writes that the letters given to Mattie by Grace Brown included all of the correspondence between Grace and Chester, but that in reality, only the letters Grace received from Chester Gillette were recovered at the hotel; her letters to Chester were found in his room when he was arrested for her murder. The historic roots of the story give it a little more credence, helping to establish the period for the young reader. That Mattie and her family are fictional does not take away from the fact that they are still representative of the period. The important thing when considering historic fiction is that the truth doesn’t betray itself. If the reader can detect blatantly false items that disrupt the historic continuity or the continuity of the story, then she will no longer be able to yield to that “suspense of disbelief” that characterizes a good story no matter the medium.



View all my reviews

Sold by Patricia McCormick

A brilliant book about the plight of young girls who are sold into prostitution. The format is superb, a series of vignettes provide glimpses into the daily struggles faced by Lakshmi as she thought she was providing for her family back in Nepal. I especially like the fact that McCormick doesn't explain what things really are--she lets the reader experience them as Lakshmi sees them. How wondrous and unnerving and incomprehensible the journey to India (Bombay, perhaps?) must have been for her, having never seen cars and trucks before. McCormick does a terrific job of establishing Lakshmi's youth and innocence in the beginning, and layering the months of experience on her in a way that makes her far more mature than her years by the end of the novel.

This might be a difficult novel to teach in class because of the sensitive subject matter, but I do think it would be quite educational for students (and teachers!). This would probably function best as a book club selection for mature high school readers, especially girls. I think it would be important to draw parallels between the forced prostitution in the novel and the similar circumstances of child trafficking in the U.S. I would also explore the events specific to the culture and climate of Nepal and how all of that influences the decisions that are made. One could also do a comparison between this book and others like Homeless Bird or Breadwinner (or even Memoirs of a Geisha!), examining the role of girls in their families as they reach adolescence.

If nothing else, this is a must-read, and after reading this one and Purple Heart, I'd highly recommend seeking out Patricia McCormick's other novels--I know I will!

Books, books and more books

I have been doing some reviews of books for a class that I am taking on young adult literature. Below is a review on a book I just picked up this week. Check it out, and let me know if you'd like to see more reviews.

Purple Heart by Patricia McCormick (Balzer & Bray, 2009)

This is a well-written look at a young soldier's life in the Iraq war, with language that is accessible for YA readers. In many respects, Matt Duffy, the protagonist, and his compatriot Justin are just kids, dealing with the ups and downs of life in combat. As the book begins, we learn that Matt has been "on the business end" of an RPG and is being evaluated for TBI (traumatic brain injury). The investigation into "the incident" dominates much of the early part of the novel, shedding light on the hierarchy within the military and the pressures faced by all to get the servicemen and women back in the field ASAP. I really like the way how McCormick contrasts the fears and risks for the troops with the teen worries about driving and school tests.

Overall, I think this is a book that could be used in a mature classroom to discuss the implications of war and the effects felt by all participants. McCormick doesn't get into the politics of the war; rather, she focuses on the circumstances present on the ground and the relationships between Matt and the others in his unit as they make their way through Sadr City. Purple Heart would definitely be a book to consider using, especially in a classroom that could handle some crude language and challenging topics.

View all my reviews at Goodreads.com

Digging Out

As you probably heard, it snowed a little in Chicago last week. Now, having grown up in Las Vegas, the concept of a Snow Day was utterly foreign to me. For Chicago students, especially Chicago Public Schools, there were at least myths that such an event could occur. While I am not in a classroom yet, I used my keen observation powers to notice that students were thrilled to have a snow day. My co-workers exhibited that same emotion. Truth be told, I was happy about the prospects of being able to sleep in--until I realized that I was going to have to start early with the shoveling. At one point I had grand visions of getting lots of homework done, cleaning and reorganizing the basement, and perhaps even being able to spend some time hanging out with my wife and son. Little did I know that I would end up shoveling nearly the whole day, from 8:30 am until 6 pm, with an hour-plus lunch break. I think I would rather have been at work...

The road to teaching has its challenges. I have been sending out applications since I received my certification. Job fairs are lined up, and I recently interviewed to be a sub for CPS. My mantra must be patience and perseverence. My goal was to spend the winter and spring getting hired; layering on a literature class was something I wanted to avoid, knowing the time and work commitment would be immense. Thanks to the visionaries at my university program, however, the lit course I needed to complete the masters is not slated to be available for the forseeable future. I received a call two days before the start of the current term that I could take an adolescent lit course that could stand in for the unavailable course; failure to take the class would be putting my degree in jeopardy, as it, too, won't be offered again for some time. Great. Nothing like having a few books to read every week, and then write reviews and do projects about them. As much as I love reading and sharing my opinions about things, it is clear that time to obtain books and complete said tasks is fleeting, at best, especially as a parent of a very active (and sleep-resistant) toddler. And then, in addition to the snow, I had another monkey wrench thrown into the equation.

Last week, I learned of the passing of my grandfather. While he will be missed, he lived a very long and productive life. At 88, he defied the odds--he lived 25 years after major bypass surgery before his heart finally gave out on him. He had the opportunity to establish meaningful relationships with his great-grandchildren, something very few people can say. The services for him were beautiful, filled with music and celebration. As I said to many, the silver lining was that the funeral served as a de facto family reunion. My dad and his four brothers were together at my grandparents' home for the first time in my memory, and quite possibly for the first time ever. My son, ever the precocious one, took it upon himself to ask my grandmother, "Where's Great Grampa?" My grandmother responded said, "He's gone... He's in heaven...I think." My belief is that her statement was more a reflection of metaphysical uncertainty and less the idea that my grandfather, her husband of well over sixty years, was headed in a different direction.

Add in all the driving required (especially with nearly two feet of snow on the ground), and I find that sleep is as fleeting as time. Yet somehow I must make sure that I get all my books read. Sure. Fat chance on that one. Especially when my toddlet keeps insisting I read Thomas the Train books instead of my required materials for class (even the picture books and fairy tales!). Hopefully, I'll manage, and this will be just another station on my journey to teaching.

Aw, Geez, Ronnie, We'll Miss You

Just as I was heading to the train tonight I happened to walk by Holy Name Cathedral, where the public viewing for longtime Cub Ron Santo was taking place. Although I had contemplated going to the viewing earlier in the week, I honestly had forgotten about it until I saw the barricades that were still standing. I still didn't even plan on going in, but curiosity, I suppose, got the better of me. And guilt. Here I am, a so-called diehard Cubs fan, grumbling and rambling about baseball's winter meetings and free agency signings, and I was still reluctant to pay respects to a man who lived for the Cubs and the Cubs through him. In many respects, I lived vicariously through the Cubs, especially while listening to Pat & Ron call the games on WGN, so much so that I feel like a chapter of my life has now closed with his death. Does that mean I've decided to move on from the Cubs? Of course not. It just means that I can look back at a certain period of time, perhaps from May 2000 until maybe the end of the baseball season in 2004 with a bit of nostalgia and wistfulness, even as I've grown through marriage, parenthood, education and employment.

I had to go in for the viewing, and my eyes did all the informing. The giant placards noting that no photography was allowed. The church's magnificent rafters. The smattering of Cubbie Blue throughout the pews. And the casket, at the end of the long aisle, with Santo's number "10" draped over it. On top of the casket, maybe over Ron's heart, was a golden mitt. On the ground to the left was an easel with a large picture from his playing days. There were also a couple of ushers--or security guards, I wasn't too sure--flanking the body, presumably to keep the real diehards from lingering too long. I waited my turn in the short line, watched the guy in front of me cross himself before leaving, and then I stepped forward.

At that point, I almost asked aloud, "Now, what do I do?" Everyone in the cathedral was watching me, or so I felt. I stood there, taking in the moment before hearing in my memory a cacophony of Santo's on-air reactions. "Aw...geez," "Wow!" "I can't believe it!" "Oh no!" and a host of other things he may or may not have uttered. It was always the emotion, not the words, listening to Ronnie. I had pictured him practically leaping out of his legs when Derrek Lee hit a pinch-hit grand slam a few years ago, and I chose to remember Santo for his exuberance rather than his exasperation. Feeling my moment was up, I nodded toward the altar and then to the ushers as I glided out. Even now, more memories keeping flooding back.

In the summer of 2003, it was clear the Cubs were competitive. It was the June series against the Yankees that proved the Cubs were serious. When Eric Karros launched a rocket out to left to give the Cubs the lead in the Saturday game (in which Kerry Wood earned his 50th win), pandemonium nearly rang out. Just a few innings earlier, one could have heard a pin drop at Wrigley when Cubs first baseman Hee Sop Choi lay unconscious on the field after colliding with Wood while corralling a pop up. Leading up to and during the next day's evening game, Ronnie described some of the reactions and emotions from the big roller-coaster win. I can't recall his exact words, but it was always fun to listen to him whether he was up or down.

He hated Alfonso Soriano's hop. You know, the one Sori does when he's catching (or sometimes dropping) a routine fly ball. He'd groan when a pitcher would airmail the throw past first base on a routine dribbler back to the mound. He'd burst with enthusiasm when a ball was driven to the gap or a perfect throw nailed a runner at the plate. And he would have these exchanges with his partner, Pat Hughes, that were, simply put, a riot. 


Ronnie always made sure to plug his pet cause, too. When the Cubs drew their first walk of the game, he would note that, "for every walk drawn by a Cubs player today, Walgreens will make a Big, Big donation to my walk for the cure" of JDRF (Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. I always meant to participate in the walk. Maybe next year.


I only met Santo once, while I was working for my previous employer, a urologist. I was covering the check-in desk during a lunch break when he arrived for his appointment. He was getting an opinion regarding treatment of his bladder cancer. This was back in the fall of 2003, two days after the Cubs won the division title and one day after that moving ceremony to retire his number. Of course, we had scheduled him at a time when no other patients would be around. Icons are people, too, and they deserve to go to the doctor's office without questions from autograph-seekers. I don't think he even said a word when he checked in--I told him to take a seat when I first saw him. "I'll let the nurse know you're here." As much as I wanted to talk baseball with him--and there are many who can attest that I'll talk with anyone on the subject--I kept it professional. I even remember waving his wife in a few minutes later when she arrived after parking the car.


Even now, after he eventually succumbed to the disease, I think about how challenging that must have been for Santo. After a whole career of playing  for and then calling games for the Cubs, he wasn't able to be there for the playoff series against Atlanta, the one (and still only) playoff series the Cubs have won since 1908.  He met his challenges head on, between the diabetes and cancer and heart disease, and the perennial disappointments on the field. During these past few years, as Ronnie began limiting his road trips with the team, I kept hoping they'd find a way to make it to the World Series while he was still alive. No one would have enjoyed it more than he. Shoot, the veterans committee will probably vote him in to the Hall of Fame the next time they meet. Too bad he didn't get in while he was alive, because he absolutely deserved it and would have relished every moment of it. He was a guy we all could love--he showed us how to wear our emotions on our sleeves (for better or worse), and he certainly helped me rekindle my love for baseball. Now, I hope he's clicking his heels, wherever he is. 

End of Student Teaching

Actually, I finished my student teaching internship last Friday. Altogether, I taught Mrs. Moore's world literature classes for approximately 9 weeks, covering three units (grammar basics, Epic of Gilgamesh and The Iliad). For Mr. Scott, I assumed control of the classroom for 7 weeks, handling the pantomime portion of the intro to drama unit and all of the improv unit. The minimum requirement was just four weeks, but I'm not sure how anyone could prove he/she was ready to be a teacher based on four weeks. Some may say the same for student teaching for just 10 or 11 weeks, but I'd rationalize that, over the course of ten weeks, one would have a pretty good idea whether he/she possessed the tools necessary handle a classroom. Somehow I managed to fit in quite a few points of interest.

The last two weeks were no exception:

• The student whose stories seemed to be all over the place (among other things, he claimed he had been searched by Chicago police officers because they suspected he had a loaded weapon in his possession) spent most of my final two weeks in a posh psychiatric facility before returning to the classroom on my final day. I guess he's certifiable.
• One of my best students transferred to another school because she and her family believed that she wasn't safe in the building. Hopefully, her transition is going smoothly. 
• The student who refused to participate in the improv research project was denied again in his quest to transfer to a different class, as he had missed three programming opportunities during his junior year. Mr. Scott had another chat with the student, learning that the student didn't want to work with the gay students in his group. Not that either Mr. Scott or myself believe that is an acceptable position, but the greater irony is that there weren't any gay students in the group which he had been assigned. For improv group performances, I actually succeeded in placing the student with a different group, led by one of the school jocks. Of course, I was all but certain that that plan would fail when the first character the jock assumed in their improv game was a gay hairstylist. Thankfully, everything worked out.
• One of the teachers in the music department quit at the end of the quarter, leaving the school in the lurch--especially when it came time to do parent-teacher conferences the following week. While I understand that the teacher felt out of place in this profession, most would agree that there could have been better timing.

Of course, the parent-teacher conferences were fairly "educational" as well. One female student--bright but failing due to lack of submitted assignments--came in with her father. Mrs. Moore and I knew there were some emotional issues going on anyway, based on the student's irrational behavior and what we knew of her background, but the tension between the girl and her father was palpable. At one point, she told him to shut up, and she said there were troubles at home. More discussion led to tears. I played the encouragement card, noting that she was quite capable of doing the work. I will be curious to know how the rest of the year transpires for her.

In another conference, a mother talked about how she starts work at 3 am and calls her son at 6 am to wake him for school. He couldn't explain why he fails regularly to attend his first three classes, including our world lit class, except that he was tired. He works on the weekends, so that shouldn't be a problem--Mrs. Moore theorized that he is participating in some extracurricular activities that keep him out late.

For the theater classes, I found it fascinating to talk with some of parents of students from Mr. Scott's other theater tech I class. One student is considering studying theater in college, so I recommended my alma mater to the parents. I had few parents for my own classes, except for the middle school students, and even they had less representation than I expected. One couple spent 20 minutes wondering what their seventh grader could do to bring up his grade. After Mr. Scott and I detailed some of the extra credit options and what was ahead in the class, the parents finally left. We could only shake our heads at the fact that the student in question has a 92 percent in the class. If only the students who were failing had so much attention from their parents.

The overall experience was affirming. I learned quite a bit from each of my cooperating teachers, and just as much from the 184 (give or take) students I taught and other teachers and administrations with whom I worked. I gave my appreciation to the principal and one of the assistant principals, as well as the head of the English department, and they all encouraged me to obtain my sub card. Too bad CPS isn't currently accepting applications for substitute positions (at least not officially), but I need to make sure I knock on the door and ask. I don't want a potential opportunity to pass me by. And, as Mr. Scott noted, there are some "crazy-ass subs" at our high school. Returning back to my office job this week only reinforced the notion that teaching is my calling. Can't wait to do it with my own classes. 

Last Week

Tomorrow is my last day teaching all five sections, as I am ceding the classroom control of the world literature classes back to Mrs. Moore. It has been a fun ride, but now we are wrapping up the Iliad unit. Altogether, I'd say I taught the class for nearly nine weeks, though Mrs. Moore still played a significant role in setting up the unit projects and has done more grading than I think cooperating teachers normally would. I have done as much as she would allow, but I can understand the desire to maintain control over the gradebook.

At the same time, Mr. Scott has given me complete access to entering his attendance and grades for the three sections for which I'm responsible. I have learned how to create assignments and update grades readily, and it is valuable to be able to view the students' cumulative grades. Mrs. Moore and I reviewed the final grades for the first marking period today, and the numbers are, simply put, abysmal. There are a number of students earning As and Bs--those are the students doing the work. And then there are the rest, most of whom will have great odds to overcome if they are to even sniff a D. I tried to evaluate what I have done over the course of the term, and I compared the numbers to my theater classes (well, the high schoolers), and came to a reasonable conclusion: it doesn't matter the content area, the approach or the difficulty level--students with the willpower to do the work will do well, and those who don't, fail. While it's presumptuous to based statements on just ten weeks in the classroom, it is evident that the students have been passed along, coddled and allowed to get by simply by doing the minimum.

I have given multiple appeals to the students, reminding them that even striving for sixty or seventy percent success won't cut it--those would be the employees who would be laid off first. Colleges won't look at Ds and willl be concerned with Cs. Students have to expect more from themselves. We've evaluated the work, too, and students even admit that the work isn't hard. So why don't they do it?

It starts when the students are younger. My middle school students hardly ever miss school and rarely miss an assignment. Granted, these kids are almost all overachievers, while the high school students in my classes have likely never fit that bill. That being said, I expect more from the students, and I don't put much credence into the low test scores. They suffer from test fatigue and believe the test results don't mean anything, so the students don't try to do well--they just get through it.

The other reason my seniors are not doing the work is that they have too much going on outside of school. They have jobs and sports and familial responsibilities--at least one has a baby at home to care for, and many fill in parental roles for their younger siblings. We have tried to be accomodating by giving students time to do work in class and giving them plenty of notice on more time-consuming projects. Some take advantage of the time, others don't.

I had my final evaluation last Thursday. My university supervisor came back to see the theater class presentations, which were a mixed bag of results. I tried to make sure the strongest presentations went first, and I ended up being a little disappointed with how the students did overall. Perhaps that's because my expectations were so high. Some groups did work really well together; others, well, I think I covered that on a previous post. Now that all groups have presented and the papers have been graded, I am proud that I took the leap of faith and went big for the research project. But after seeing the overall grades, I can understand why Mrs. Moore is struggling in her decision to pursue the big, exciting project she has planned for the spring, or whether she wants to stick with simpler, paint by numbers-type assignments. With such a high failure rate despite manageable, relatively easy work, how can one expect students to succeed with a more challenging project?

My feeling is that we must keep pushing. Students who are challenged consistently will work to overcome those challenges; apathy sets in otherwise. If I can continually push myself to keep the options limitless for students, I believe there will be success. And if nothing else, I'd rather be able to say I tried with my best, rather than settling for just getting by. Isn't that why I'm changing careers to be a teacher?

Nearly eight weeks in

It's hard to believe how quickly the time is flying! Last night I had the last regular class session for my university seminar. We covered a couple of items, including applying for certification. Is it starting to feel real yet? I feel like I’m ready. Give it another week, though, just to be sure, and together we’ll evaluate my progress. Why one more week, you ask? I have my final observation from my university supervisor next Thursday, and the theater students should be presenting their improv projects. Honestly, I have no idea what the outcome will be.

I could have played it safe for the unit, just sticking to improv games and briefing the students on the history on improvisation in theater. Instead, I have gone big. Thankfully, Mr. Scott was on board from the get-go, and it certainly has helped to bounce ideas off him as we progress. For the unit, I created six teams for each class, each team corresponding to a well-known improv theatre troupe, i.e., Second City, The Groundlings, et al. Each team has to put together a research paper and presentation on their company. I thought it would be a fun way for students to really gain appreciation of the art form, particularly with its strong Chicago roots. Throw in bonuses for integrated technology and collaborative work, and I think I’m hitting all the marks with the project. Part of the struggle is getting enough time for the students to work on computers during class time, since the students are from varying grade levels and don’t have the same lunch periods or much ability to work together after school. They should be doing some research outside of class, but I have to be realistic about how much they are able to do. I assembled the groups in mixed abilities, with even gender arrangements and broken up cliques. The idea is that the groups will also work together for their improv sketch performances, so the collaborative work should yield good results. If all goes well, students should be submitting their papers and projects on Monday, giving me time to at least peruse everything before the presentations.

I have had a couple of small fires which I have had to diffuse. In my first period class, the group studying Second City was fighting because one girl said the other had to do the interview requirement. The first girl was trying to say that she could do her own research for the presentation, and everyone else could do the paper—I had to explain that it was important for each of them to take sections of the project and assemble the same info for both the paper and the presentation. Thankfully that seemed to work.

My other situation involves a student whose first language is not English. I think it may be Polish—we do have a significant Polish population at my school—but I’m not certain. He has refused to work with his group, and he pretty much stated that he thought the theater class was stupid. The only reason why he was still in the class, he said, is his counselor would not let him transfer out. Ironically, he had asked for bookwork and other assignments to augment his reluctance to perform, which I said he couldn’t do—he has to participate just like everyone else or face the consequences. With this project, I had tried to get him to work with his group, but he maintained his refusal, even after I told him that he would likely fail the class if he didn’t do well on the project. When he pulled the same thing again today, I gave him a new assignment: he will have to do his own paper and presentation on Keith Johnstone and his Gorilla Theatre. I don’t have faith that the student will complete the work, but at least his group doesn’t have to plan for the contingency of him actually participating. When I gave the group the news today, at least one of the students had no idea he was even part of their group. If he does do the presentation, it could be interesting for the rest of the class. I haven’t yet figured out what we’ll do for the improv performances, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

Three weeks from tomorrow is report card pickup and my last official day as a student teacher. I will likely go back the following day, which is a regular class schedule, just to see the students and aid in the transition back to my respective cooperating teachers. Hard to believe it’s coming up that soon. Aside from not getting my usual paycheck, and the crazy commutes, I’ve really enjoyed this experience. Even the staff development meetings and bureaucracy—it’s a welcome change from the medical billing world. Hopefully it won’t be long before I have a classroom of my own.

Second evaluation is in the books

Today was a busy day. I had my midterm evaluation with my university supervisor, the only evaluation for world lit, and all things considered, it went well. Not exactly smoothly, from my standpoint, but I managed to have things go well enough that my grade certainly benefitted.

While I was presenting to my students how to create a Voki (an avatar) for use in their Epic of Gilgamesh projects, I found I had a terrible time trying to embed the finished product on my page. Each attempt seemed to bring me no closer to a finished product. The last thing I wanted to do was confuse students, but in the end, with a brief reminder from Mrs. Moore, I was able to demonstrate for the students what they needed to do. My university supervisor gave me credit for not getting flustered, so that definitely scored well. In all I think I received exceeds student teacher requirements for the bulk of the evaluation. Now I just have one more evaluation left, in three weeks. That one will be for theater. I'm looking forward to it.

Five weeks down, five-plus to go

While one may think of this as five weeks into the latest Bears season (a surprising 4-1, with anyone's guess how the rest will go), it is hard to believe that I am already five weeks into my student teaching assignment, with little more than five weeks left to go. As Mrs. Moore might put it, I've gotten to see a lot of things so far. Nothing else has been quite as "exciting" as having the principal in the classroom for two consecutive days during the first week of school. My range of experiences, though, will prove more than informative as I transition into this new career.

Teaching three sections of theater and two sections of world literature, I see an array of students. It's only seniors in the world lit classes, but one section is inclusion. Some students are doing really well in the class, and some aren't exactly trying. This next week of assignments (post-progress reports) will go a long ways toward determining who will pass and who likely won't. We have an important study guide project due Friday and a unit project due Monday--not to mention a set of journal entries; there are a ton of points on the table this week, and failure to capitalize will be devastating for the students. At the department meeting, we were informed that a "D-F list" was to be circulated, and teachers are supposed to offer remediation strategies in order to help students pass. Mrs. Moore's philosophy, and I tend to agree, is that seniors should be able to come up with their own remediation strategies. The reality is that if the students have done their assignments, they are passing, and if they haven't been doing the work, they are not passing.

For the theater classes, I have two sections of high school students, each with a very different dynamic due to its placement in the daily schedule. The first period class has a high rate of tardiness and a greater resistance to participation. My fifth period group is much more energetic, but they get too talkative. On Wednesday last week, I had to end an imagination exercise and sit everyone down for a writing assignment due to their collective lack of respect. They did a much better job of participating on Thursday.

The other theater section is nothing short of crazy. We have some middle schoolers at the high school, and my sixth period section is really two groups of students: one that meets M-W-F and one that meets Tuesdays and Thursdays. There are 35 students in each grouping, so it's fair to say there are still a bunch of students I cannot yet identify by name. Same for Mr. Scott. On Thursday, the students did the Edward Albee version of the lesson plan--it was just absurd. As Mr. Scott has said, sometimes you can fight the wave of energy, and sometimes it's better just ride that wave wherever it takes you. Thursday was one of those days.

Five weeks in, I can honestly say I expected more resistance from students and for the overall process to be more difficult. Have I written out all of my lesson plans in the appropriate university format, complete with the state standards which I'm hitting? No, but I have mapped out the lessons for each respective unit, basically using the "backwards" design prescribed. I have appropriate assessments and allowances for remediation. I know what my overall objectives are and know essentially what I hope to accomplish with each day. Some days have gone better than others, which isn't unexpected. What is my biggest success? I can manage a classroom. That being said, these are mostly good, nonaggressive students. Could I handle more combative students? I believe I can, but until that situation presents itself, I just have to hold onto that belief. In the meantime, five-plus weeks to go...

In Midseason Form

Yesterday was finally the initial observation from my university supervisor. Thanks to the crazy testing schedule, professional development days and other scheduling conflicts, I was worried we'd have had to push the observation too far back. We still have a midterm and final observation to go, but at least I have the first one under my belt.

The way yesterday began, I was regretting that it was the day for my observation. I had been reluctant to schedule it for a Friday, but it sure beat the alternative of having a shortened period to work with. The observation was scheduled for my fifth period theater class, and Mr. Scott and I had worked out the plans to incorporate some bookwork with the introduction to the new chapter on Mime, which I expanded into the theme of movement. Because of the schedule, we still had some show and tell performances to wrap up as well. In first period, the students were sluggish. I'm not sure if students were just out of rhythm because of the testing on Thursday or what, but they weren't buying what I was selling.
After the performances and the discussion about the chapter, I took the students to the stage area to play Machine, a favorite theater game. I'm not sure whether it was my directions or the fact that the students were resisting participation, or maybe it was some combination thereof, but the game bombed. There was virtually no energy for a game that depends entirely on physical movement. I was glad that I had the chance to rework some things before the later observation.

My second period world literature class didn't feel any better. We had listened to the audio of parts one and two of The Epic of Gilgamesh on Wednesday; yesterday, I was explicating the story from the beginning, and students put up walls of resistance. You'd think I was trying to extract teeth! While we were listening to the announcements before dismissing the class, Mrs. Moore tapped me on the shoulder to suggest we do a quiz next week. I guess we'll see how effective that is in forcing the students to become actively engaged. At any rate, I did not have high hopes for the rest of the day, including the observation.

Finally, fifth period rolled around, and my supervisor was able to talk to Mr. Scott prior to the class. We had a brief discussion as well, in which I told him about our lesson plans and how the classes had been going so far. I was able to organize the students pretty quickly when it came to finishing the performances, and then we did well with the bookwork. This time, I added a bridge activity before the Machine, and that helped. That, and I think the students were a little more awake. It still wasn't great, but it was more effective than that of first period.

After the period was over, I met with the supervisor, and he had nothing but good things to say. He liked my classroom management and how well I used the time, and he thought I involved the students well. We touched base on my world lit class, and then he was gone. Not bad. Especially considering how the day began. Not that I was that concerned heading into the observation, but it is nice to get confirmation from an outside observer that things are going as well as I perceive.