Yesterday, I had an important topic to discuss with my students: Beauty. I go through the same conversations annually*, hitting similar points each time through. Normally, I really enjoy the conversation on beauty as it's something that I think is really important. Not only is there more to discuss than "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" or, just as tediously, "beauty is only skin deep", but despite such platitudes, there's still a lot of emphases on what it means to be beautiful. That takes time to break apart and to look at critically.
Neither class, it seemed, was interested in pursuing the conversation (ironically, as it turned out) beyond a superficial level. Disappointed in my performance--and, admittedly, the assembly schedule messed things up, too, which was a minor factor, though a factor nonetheless--I decided to not repeat yesterday's schedule. We have a lot of things that matter in the course right now: We're studying the French Revolution, reading Les Miserables, and watching a (rather poor) adaptation of the same. They haven't even hit the Terror and I'm supposed to get them through Waterloo…which only barely helps them understand the world that Hugo is describing in his book. You'd be forgiven if you wondered why, with only four days of work left to me (for scheduling reasons), I could be so far behind. Well, it's simple: There's a lot of interesting stuff to talk about in the book. While it isn't my favorite novel of all time, Les Miserables is always enjoyable. There're a lot of worthwhile lessons packed into the overflowing pages that even our abridged version can scarcely contain. There's just a lot to talk about, and I don't like shortchanging the profundity of the conversations so that the factual stuff can be there, too. The sad thing is, after yesterday's dismal work, I was only too glad to pass the learning onto the glowing rectangle. We watched a large swath of the film adaptation of Les Miserables, then spent the remainder of the day watching a documentary about the French Revolution. Yipee. I'm not the kind of teacher who regularly uses movies/documentaries as curricula, but rather one who likes to supplement what I'm teaching with these extras. I do this, of course, because I like to look long and hard at the principles a piece of text is trying to convey. Normally, my students are eager to come along, seeking extra connections and interrogating their own ideas. This week, not so much. The one advantage to having the students do so much passive "work" is that it gave me a chance to read--a constant need for me and the students, as our abridgment of the story is still 600 pages long--and refresh myself on what tomorrow is supposed to be like. In this case, the day wasn't a waste, but I can't help feeling as though I've let the students down. I know that learning is ultimately on them--it's one of the few things that I agree with from Demille's writings on education--and I can't take responsibility for their failures. That doesn't change the fact that it leaves me more than a little upset at the state of things. Tomorrow will likely see a return to the text--a chance to explore another aspect of the world of Les Mis--and, I hope, a greater investment on the part of the students. If not? Well, I still have about an hour to go on that documentary… --- * No, I don't get tired of teaching the same thing every twelve months. I find that the familiarity of the content, mingled with fresh perspectives of new students, and the fact that I haven't taught that particular lesson for a year makes for a good mix. What I can't handle is doing the same thing multiple times in a day. Because of how my school runs, I teach a total of four classes, though two of them are two periods long. I used to teach three classes, each two periods long. I couldn't handle that kind of repetition. I found that I stopped caring about the conversation after a second pass, so I eventually asked to have two smaller classes--Shakespeare and creative writing--to counteract burnout. ==== Hey, friends. I have been releasing essays on my website for a couple of years now at a pretty steady rate. I'm happy to do so, as it benefits me as a writer and (I hope) you as a reader. I also think that, as a writer, it's okay if I believe that my work has some value monetarily as well as emotionally. To that end, I've created a Ko-Fi account, which is basically a way to give an online tip to a creator whose work you appreciate. The idea is, you can buy them a cup of coffee. (That's what the of the website sounds like, if you're curious.) I'm not charging for any of the content on my website; instead, if you'd like to toss me a cup-le (see what I did there?) of bucks to show your gratitude, that would be cool. I'd totally appreciate that appreciation. If you don't? No problem. We can still be friends. As always, thanks for reading! Great Conversations
It's not unusual for me to find the post-school hours of a Friday afternoon as being mostly fluff. Since my school gets out early (12:30 instead of 3:30), I have ample time to plan for the upcoming week, tidy up some grading, or otherwise use my time wisely. Instead, I watch YouTube videos and flitter through Twitter. Today, however, I decided to be proactive and leave once I had my week set up (something that, for me, isn't particularly strenuous, as I've been through this curriculum enough times that it's fairly polished). I figured I'd drop off some library books, then browse through the stacks to see if there was anything I wanted to check out and not read before returning it three weeks later--in other words, a normal afternoon in the library. As I was about to leave, I mentioned to my roommate* an idea in passing. She asked a question, so I stalled and sat down. We chatted for a few minutes and, as I was approaching a departure point, one of my oldest friends at the school strolled in. I think he may have had a specific reason to come talk to one of us, but we quickly distracted him with a question or two, and then we were off. The conversation did what all the best conversations do: Meander through the topic, tugging at each person's area of expertise to try to shed light on something deeper. We ranged over ideas of what it means for a piece of literature to be a classic, how it could apply to cinema and video games, what poetry is now compared to what poetry was to the ancients, pedagogy and what makes for a worthwhile Socratic Seminar teacher, where our department is weak and in what areas, how relationships with students is the most important part of our job (but must be tempered by a genuine pursuit of the curriculum), and quite a bit more. While I wish I could copy down all that was discussed, I can't. Not only because my feeble brain can't recall that much detail, but because it defeats the purpose of that conversation. I don't often disagree with Socrates, but I do find his rejection of the new-fangled technology of writing as being ironic and misplaced. However, he was correct in saying that people won't talk as much if they're busy writing. That loss is overpowered by the gain of preservation, but it's true that a real, profound conversation is one that is unrepeatable and irreplaceable. Part of what I try to do with my students is find topics that the kids can sink their teeth into, something that makes them think harder and walk away feeling as though they've improved in some way. This is a rare occurrence, in part because classes are large, and finding something that everyone can attach to is almost impossible. I get to spend a lot of time with the students--nearly two hours a day--and that increases my chances of finding something worthwhile for everyone eventually, but in terms of single moments of lucidity or value, they're sparse. Maybe that's why I was so unimpressed with myself in the Shakespeare class of last semester. It was a casual lecture most of the time, never a worthwhile conversation. We didn't discuss things so much as the students allowed me to talk at them about whatever was on my mind. Yet that's the class where I could more easily hear from the students, since there are fewer than a dozen of us there. And, pushing that idea farther, perhaps the reason that my conversation with a couple of intelligent, well-read friends who could discuss something in a way that was both informed and insightful came because of those specific criteria. When it comes to Shakespeare, students defer to me (even though we have at least three other well-versed Bardolators at the school). That deference leads them to fear (?) speaking up throughout an analysis of Shakespeare. Or maybe they simply want to hear what I have to say on the topic, trusting my insights and gaining their own as we go. There isn't a textual or (less humbly) intellectual parity among the group, which shifts its balance toward me. So, as I've been thinking of this and the richness of today's conversation, it strikes me that it could be valuable for a demonstration of discussion that the students could attend. In a lot of ways, it would be more of a panel--we'd be on display, essentially, for the benefit of the audience--but the purpose would be to model how we as adults and as scholars and as friends navigate a conversation. We would have to be more disciplined than what we did today in a casual hour together, but, if students came with the expectation to both learn something new (via the points of view of the panelists) as well as the understanding that they could learn to be better interlocutors themselves, it could still be worth our time. Then again, who would come? Who would want to spend time listening to three old folks gas on about some random topic? To do this, it would have to be after school--probably on a Friday. Who would want to spend time doing that when there are so many other options for how one starts a weekend? Of all the unusual things a person could do, that's gotta be high on the list, right? Still…I think it would be kinda cool. --- * Because my school is fairly small, almost all teachers have to share their classrooms with someone for some of the day. The two of us teach the same grade, and we equally share the space in terms of the quantity of classes we teach, but we also use it as a way to brainstorm, discuss problems we're having, or trying to figure out better ways to teach the curriculum. She also generously lets me monopolize the back of the room with my massive assortment of random posters. And, if you haven't seen my classroom, I'm underselling just how overstimulating my section of the room is. |
AuthorWould you like to support my writings? Feel free to buy me a coffee (which I don't drink, but I do drink hot chocolate) at my Ko-Fi page. Thanks! Archives
July 2022
Categories
All
|