owp05

Web Review

Here is my top 5 list of useful sites:

1. The Black Plague-  This site offers some primary source material for teaching about the plagues impact in Italy: http://jefferson.village.virginia.edu/osheim/intro.html (Institute for Advanced Technology in the Humanities) 
2. Africans in America- A history of African slavery that offers primary sources in both text and graphic form: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/aia/part1/index.html
3. White Southerners' Defense of Slaveholding-  History is written by the victors.  So much of what we learn about slavery in America is presented from the abolitionist point of view. This site offers more primary source material, in this case from the perspective of a Southern apologist for slavery:  http://www.vcdh.virginia.edu/teaching/vclassroom/proslavewsht3.html

4. Movies- Need to know something about a movie? The running time or rating?  Maybe you can’t remember if you have the correct title.  Almost every movie made is covered in this site:   http://www.allmovie.com/
5. Transparency Now is a site that explores media literacy and critical analysis of popular culture. I recommend the article that discusses the culture war in America.  I have used the piece on the Truman Show in my film class.  http://www.transparencynow.com
6.  Puzzles-The bonus site is one that lets create word puzzles for free.  You can create crosswords, word searches, and many others: http://puzzlemaker.school.discovery.com/CrissCrossSetupForm.html

Stupid Human Tricks

Writing is like stopping a spinning fan blade with your tongue, scary, potentially dangerous, but exhilarating after you have done it. 
    I came into this project with a set script: writing is hard, and I can’t do it.  I was half right.  Writing is hard, even if you are doing it right. For years, I have tried to produce perfect, complete works.  Finally, I comprehend that writing is a process, and that process is indefinite.  I could revise forever because there is no single definition of excellence. One of the phrases from this workshop that resonates for me was Nat saying, “Art is never finished, it is just abandoned.”  This reverberated further when Ingrid quoted a fellow poet, “ If you don’t know how to start, lower your standards.”
    This class is like doing a trust fall.  Sharing your writing to such an esteemed group is like standing on the table, turning your back to the group and just letting yourself fall backwards.  You have to let go of your fear that they won’t catch you.   You can’t control the outcome, you can only trust. 
Two things I must remember from this workshop concern fear and sharing.  If this is scary for me, how terrifying it must be for my students.  But the process can’t advance without sharing.  Sharing is where improvement happens.   Sharing is where the rewards come.  I was surprised at how badly I wanted others to hear my work.  I found myself glowing when Ingrid said something nice about my poem or when someone commented on my blog.  This lesson applies doubly to me.  Each of my peers has shown me some new twist that can improve my instruction.  I have to remember to trust others and ask for their lessons.  They will probably be thrilled to share their work and glow when I say something nice. 
    I am both full of pride and humbled by this workshop.  I am proud that I can produce something that is valued by my peers.  I am in awe of the stunning talent in this room humbles me.  Oregon has some very fortunate children to be taught by such brilliant and talented people.

Storm Warning!

"Red sky in morning, sailor take warning,
Red sky at night, sailors delight"

    Reading Lisa’s story about her first trip to a Spanish-speaking country made me think about the places I have been. Her account awakened my memories of the stress, confusion, and excitement of an exotic destination. So much about ourselves is revealed when we are taken out of the familiar; when we are decontextualized.   Travel, when done correctly, involves an inward journey simultaneous to the outward one.  These trips serve as markers for who we were, and mileposts on the journey to who we are. 

Cozumel, Mexico, 1991
    Cozumel is a small island in the Caribbean, off the coast of Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula. This idyllic location gives no indication of the many defeats it has witnessed.  It was home to the Maya who used the islands’ limestone to build their pyramids. Later, it was a stopover for Cortez on his way to conquer Montezuma and the Aztec Empire.  Now its abundant sea-life, turquoise waters, and white sand beaches make it a destination for divers, deep-sea fishermen, and honeymooners. When I arrived on the island I was just twenty-five, newly married and ignorant of the demise of the empires that preceded me.  Would I have taken it as an omen had I known? I remember only snippets of the trip, like individual scenes in a movie preview. It was my first trip to a non-English speaking place. I remember the awe I felt when I checked into our room and felt the cool pink marble under my feet, heard the gentle sound of waves breaking below our terrace, and smelled the peculiar musty smell of rot that pervades everything in the Caribbean. Each morning the sun would rise and paint the clouds red, a sign that hurricane season had yet to end. I can still feel the warm wind in my hair as we sped around the island on our rented scooter.  I recall the ferry ride to Playa del Carmen and the taxi ride through the jungle to the Mayan ruins of Tulum. They are the only ruins that are right on the beach.  I was standing on centuries old stone alters that had witnessed human sacrifices while European tourists in Speedos sunbathed on the beach before me.  On the taxi ride through the jungle back to the boat the radio was playing “Little Drummer Boy” in Spanish.  It was only October 8th.  The whole experience was surreal.
I can remember how it felt to sit in the back of that taxi, in that strange place, and I can still remember that sharp smell of decay. Perhaps it was the tropics that were to blame for the failure of my marriage. The very environment that draws people to the Caribbean eventually destroys everything that man tries to build there.
                                                                    ….

    A decade later, much had changed for me. Nearly everything I feared had come to pass.  I had been abandoned; my parents had retired and left to travel full-time, my closest friends had graduated and moved away, and my marriage had collapsed under the weight of our mutual immaturity and selfishness. I quit rock climbing, as I did not trust myself in life-or-death situations.  I had found myself dangling, a hundred feet in the air, contemplating letting go.  I had to endure the long process of coming to terms with what I saw as a profound personal failure. As with the death of a person, I had to pass through the stages of grief to reach acceptance. Recrimination, reflection and finally realization of my contribution to the euthanizing of our relationship filled the next several years. After much work, I regained the courage to take risks; a return to graduate school, a new career, and most importantly a new love entered my life.  I returned to the tropics a new man.

Sugar Beach, Costa Rica, 1999
    We drove north for several hours as the Pan-American highway snaked through the mountains before we turned off onto a smaller secondary road and headed for the pacific coast. As we passed through the rainforest, our progress was monitored by the monkeys.  We crossed over streams on rickety bridges, while Cayman, a relative of the crocodile, swam underneath. Eventually the road turned to gravel, and then finally to dirt.  The last ten miles took thirty minutes, as the road deteriorated to a twin ruts, passable only with 4-wheel drive.  Finally we were there.  The white stucco building was perched on a low hill overlooking the private beach.  A huge green parrot stood guard at the front desk, while the grounds were patrolled by a Cameroon (sort of a cross between a lemur and a raccoon).  The open-air dining room overlooked a small lawn and a path, which gently led down the hill to palm-frond shaded tables in the sand. There were only six rooms, each with a front porch flanked by pairs of palm trees with a hammock strung between.  Between the rooms and the ocean was a turquoise tiled pool.  The pool was filled completely to the brim, so the surface of the water seemed to extend to meet the ocean.  I learned this is called a zero horizon effect.   
    Sugar Beach was the most romantic place I have ever been: swimming in the warm ocean, surfing the gentle waves, lounging in the hammocks while a gentle breeze swayed the palms. Our nightly sundown ritual was the perfect vacation moment. Each evening we would gather on the porch of the dining room, sip piña coladas made with fresh coconut milk, and watch the sun be swallowed by the pacific. The sky would glow the most incredible orange color, and then slowly fade as the sounds of the night rose up to greet the darkness.  The warm thick air wrapped around me like an embrace. 
    It would be an overstatement to say that I knew my marriage was doomed while I was on my honeymoon to Cozumel, but every memory of that trip is tinged with feelings of fear and foreboding.  Sugar Beach stands in sharp contrast to that as every memory brings feelings of peace, hope, and joy. Now, six years later, it is still red skies at night.

Review #4

Graphic Organizers and Activities for Differentiated Instruction in Reading
By NancyL.Witherell & Mary C. McMackin
© 2002
When I hear graphic organizer, I think of mind maps or concept maps.  This book is full of worksheets that have graphic elements but still rely on students’ language ability.  The worksheets require students to write in the appropriate answer, but they write it in a balloon rather than on a blank line.  Aside from that criticism, this book offers three different levels of difficulty for eighteen different assignments.    I didn’t think there was much difference between the levels. However, many of the worksheets,  I mean graphic organizers, do look useful.  I would definitely use some of them in middle school (the lessons are for grades 4-8).  The cost of the book is $14.95, not the most bang for your buck.  If you do encounter the book in your school, give it a look.

If Maslow Taught Writing

If Maslow Taught Writing: A way to look at motivating in the writing classroom,
By Ada Hill and Beth Boone,
National Writing Project
©1982

If Maslow taught writing, we wouldn’t have to.  But he is dead so we do.   This thin volume  (62 pages) asks how the theories of Maslow should be applied to writing instruction.  The authors didn’t want to restate all of Maslow’s ideas, and neither do I.  If you are not familiar with them I suggest you go here (http://web.utk.edu/~gwynne/maslow.HTM) to do some further reading.  The authors main point is that Maslow’s hierarchy can be used as a tool for coaxing reluctant writers out of their shell.   By understanding what level students are at (i.e. basic, ego, or self-actualization), you can structure your instruction in a way that meets their needs.  For example if a student is unable to meet their basic needs, they aren’t going to write.  By meeting some of those needs they will be able to do the assignment.   Students that are on the love/acceptance level should be allowed to work in groups. Self–actualized students will engage if they have control over what they write. The authors provide a matrix to determine what levels students are at and propose sample assignments to meet the different students needs.  They don’t advocate custom tailoring assignments to each student but offering three or four options for each assignment and students will select the version that best meets their needs.  I will use their matrix and then observe and see if what they predict holds true.  The suggestions the authors make are reasonably simple to implement.
The authors’ arguments seem plausible, and there is little risk for trying their techniques.  They emphasize using your intuition in determining what a student needs.  I recommend giving this book a look.

Mind Maps

Review #2
Mapping Inner Space-Learning and Teaching Mind Mapping,
By Nancy Margulies, M.A.
„1991
    This is a thin book and appropriately so.  The main thrust of the book is that many people think in images as opposed to words.  In fact, you don’t even have to read the book to get basics of mind mapping.  You can read the comic book. The author has a twenty-six-page comic that explains the concept, offers drawing tips, and a small library of symbols.  If you do read the book, you will get more information including a larger dictionary of symbols, some sample lessons, and some recommended applications. 
     According to the author, most formal schooling takes place using only the language portion of the brain. Many students don’t have highly developed language skills and never comprehend much of the material to which they are exposed.  Concept mapping or webbing should be done mostly with symbols, thereby bypassing students’ underdeveloped language centers and engaging the whole brain.
    I happen to be one of those that think in words, so representing complex concepts with only symbols is very difficult for me.  I thought that mind mapping would only benefit my nonverbal students, but I was wrong.  The tools provided by this book are useful to all, regardless of their facility with words. A person like me, who thinks in sentences, will profit from having to convert these ideas from words to symbols.  Each time one has to manipulate information, one understands a different facet of it, connects it to other things, and increases ones ability to recall the information.
    The mind-maps that are used as examples certainly contain a lot of information and relay it in a clear way.  I think the skill of creating these graphic organizers would require a great deal of scaffolding at first or students would be just as bad as they are at taking textual notes.  With enough practice, I do think that this tool could increase student comprehension and improve their recall of information, not to mention that they are fun and look cool!

Running w/Scissors

Review #1- Scott Mayers
Rating :)
Why We Must Run With Scissors- Voice Lessons in persuasive writing 3-12,
By Berry Lane and Gretchen Bernabei
c. 2001
    I was attracted to this book because of the title and the colorful cartoon-style illustrations on the cover.  The notion of doing something so reckless as running with sharp objects just because the powers-that-be advise against it, appealed to the middle-schooler within me.  In fact, I do think that these lessons would work well at the middle school level.      
    Inside the cover I found a book that was clearly organized into nine chapters each with roughly nine lessons each. The individual lessons have catchy titles like “Elvis Was Abducted by Aliens…” and “Everybody Knows I’m Right” and are each focused on enabling students to make the transition from their own informal language to the more literate language of the classroom and professional worlds.  The authors’ main contention is that students are naturals at the art of persuasion.  They just need to figure out how to access the skills they use in informal settings, like when they talk a parent into buying a certain cereal or special game.
    The table of contents has a handy key to the particular writing trait addressed by each lesson.  The lessons seem straightforward and practical. Each two pages is a lesson and are organized under the following, self-explanatory headings:  The Point, Teaching It, Debriefing, (possible) Student Responses, Spin-offs (extensions), and Resources. The end of the book consists of forty pages of appendices that include rubrics, examples of student work, and useful information like “Types of Nose pickers”. 
    I think this book would be useful for substitutes who needed a “bag of tricks” to beef up inadequate sub-plans or to keep on the shelf for those times when an impromptu lesson was needed. Finally, the book also contains effective lessons in teaching the gentle art of persuasion.

Predators

The younger boy was eight, and lacked the most distinguishing features of his brother.  Scott was fair skinned and freckled, with red highlights in his hair betraying his Irish linage.  His features gave no hint of the Indian heritage he shared with the older boy. 
The oldest boy was fourteen.  Jeff was tall and dark with a quick smile, his overly prominent canines the only hint to his true nature.  Although he was handsome and athletic, it was his powerful charisma that drew people to him. Looking into his eyes was like looking into the eyes of a predator, probing for weakness, for invitation to attack.
     The moods of the two brothers as they stood in line at the theater were equally different.  Scott was excited and a little nervous about the movie they were about to see.  It would be his first scary movie and it had taken a great deal of haranguing to get his mother to grant permission to go. 
Jeff was aghast at the idea of having to take his little brother.  This was one of his first outings without his parents.  How was he supposed to look cool with an eight-year-old on his heels?  Somebody would pay for this injustice.
      It took only moments for Scott to realize he had made a mistake.  He had thought he was old enough to see his first horror movie.  He was wrong.  The movie was Jaws, and it was horrifying.  Within moments of the lights going down, the shark had claimed its first victim.  As the tender young maiden screamed her final pleas, the entire audience sank deeper into their seats, eyes wide in fear.  They had never seen the attacker, but they had heard him.  His presence was announced by ominous, lower register, orchestral music.  “Du, du duhn, du duhn du, du duhn, du duhn , du duhn!”  Cello, kettle drum, and French horn announced the malevolent presence with  discordant voices and an ever increasing tempo, mirroring the increase in the victim’s heart rate.Download theme__jaws_.mp3
      Jeff’s first revenge came shortly after the shark’s. Each time the music would warn of the presence of the beast, his brother would tightly cover his eyes, waiting for Jeff to tell him the danger had passed.  Jeff would calmly whisper in a reassuring voice, “It’s ok, you can look now.”   His brother would open his eyes in time to see a disembodied head pop out, a bloody hole where one eye should have been.  The theater would be filled with screams, and the sound one sadistic laugh.
       For weeks after the movie, Scott regretted the event.  He shared a room with his older brother. Jeff had mastered an imitation of the theme music. When the lights would go out, the taunting would start.  “Du, du duhn, du duhn du, ua duhn, du duhn , du duhn!” This would be followed by screams, and that same sadistic laughter.
    Finally, after weeks of that, the torture reached a crescendo. Jeff had gone to bed early that night.  He lay in wait for hours.  When Scott entered the darkened room, he could not see that Jeff was not in bed.  As Scott drifted off to sleep, his hand slipped over the side of his bed.  Jeff saw his moment and struck!  He grabbed the hand and started pulling Scott under the bed, all the while humming that menacing tune.  “Du, du duhn, du duhn du, ua duhn, du duhn , du duhn!”
Years passed, and Scott grew to be a man. Along the way he overcame many of his childhood fears.  But he never outgrew his hatred of sharks, and other predators.

My Path to Teaching

I graduated from the U of O in 1990 with a degree in history, but a job in Outdoor Retail.  I spent the next ten years working for a company that sold backpacks, tents, climbing gear and other equipment. I didn’t make much money, but I controlled over one million dollars in spending annually. It was fantastic. Companies were throwing free equipment at me.  I was an “opinion leader”, so marketing departments would give me whatever shiny new object they were trying to sell.  This is called “seeding the market”.  People would see me sporting the latest gadget such as the Suunto Wrist-top Computer/Altimeter, or the newest jacket from Patagonia or The North Face and just have to have one themselves.
I would meet with climbers that were just back from first ascents in the Himalaya and other more obscure ranges.  Companies would sponsor their expeditions, and the climber would travel the country giving slide shows and plugging the company in return.  One of my jobs was to make all the local arrangements for their shows.  An added perk was that I was treated to drinks and dinner with the person after the show.  I was even invited to join an expedition to the Karakorum.
While that was fun, leading outdoor classes was even better.  I led groups of college students in rock climbing, mountaineering, snow camping, and other classes as a volunteer.  That was when I felt most alive, most connected to others. These outings pushed people beyond their comfort zones and exposed their weaknesses. As an instructor I had to help solve people’s problems, even when they didn’t tell me they had any. Sometimes it was as simple as adjusting backpack straps to relieve discomfort, or putting mole foam on feet to fix a blister.  Other times it might be giving some warm food to prevent bonking: a hypoglycemic collapse where the cells have used up their glycogen stores and the blood sugar plummets causing shaking muscles, shivering, nausea, headache, and extreme fatigue.
People listened to me because I had information that improved their lives immediately. If a student’s feet lost feeling during a snow course I had to warm them on my bare belly. If the feet weren’t warmed the person could experience tissue damage and lose toes.  Climbers who tied into my rope were literally putting their lives in my hands. Nothing compared to the intensity of working with students in the outdoors.  I knew that I needed to find a way to quit my job and teach classes full-time.   The obvious answer would have been to work for the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS). They had classes all over the world. It was my dream job. 
Then I met Sam.  Sam was a NOLS instructor whom I met on a climbing trip to Joshua Tree National Monument. Sam would lead climbing classes for six weeks at a time in Joshua Tree.  Between classes he would travel and climb at locations such as Owens River Gorge, Smith Rock, Yosemite, or City of Rocks. Sam got to live in the outdoors full-time.  I was shocked when I learned that Sam envied me.  Sam lived in his truck.  He couldn’t do the things I took for granted.  He couldn’t stay in regular contact with friends because he had no phone or address. Sam envied my ability to have a pet, to plant a garden, or have a home.   He had no corner of the world that was his.  Most importantly, he had no romantic relationship.  His transient existence made it impossible. I wanted to capture the intensity of the connection to others that I had in the field and live that way all the time.  Through Sam I saw that it was an illusion.  The reality was that Sam was poor, homeless and alone.
I realized my dream job had heavy price and I wasn’t willing to pay it. Then on a starry night in the Utah desert, I had an epiphany; it was the teaching that mattered, not the activity. What really satisfied me was that  “seeing the lights go on” moment. Everything I did, whether it was selling $700 sleeping bag, training a new employee, or teaching an outdoor class, was teaching.  I came home from my trip and set about getting my Masters in Education.
I haven’t left the lessons of the outdoors behind me, though. Students learn when teaching is relevant, real, and consequences are immediate. Students need lots of scaffolding at first, and frequent feedback. To remember something, they must apply the knowledge.  Consequences must closely follow actions or people miss the cause/effect relationship. 
In the outdoors, consequences are inescapable. Nothing teaches physics like rock climbing.  Acceleration due to gravity is not an abstract concept when you are hanging 100 feet in the air on 10mm of perlon. In the classroom it takes more skill to establish connections between actions and consequences.   The consequences of the Crusades and European colonialism are still being played out today. Students don’t feel that their lives are in jeopardy if they don’t learn about medieval crusades, but perhaps they should. In my teaching I try to take remote and abstract ideas like these and make them concrete.  I show students how all things are connected. 
I have now taught a many different subjects to students from 6th grade through college. I know that teaching is the biggest adventure of all.