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Showing posts from 2014

Image Becomes Identity

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I've been wondering about some of the people I see daily.  From my local coffee shop to the grocery store and the gas station, there are familiar faces with whom I exchange greetings.  We all have these folks on the border of our lives.  Out of context, they can be maddening.  That moment when you recognize a person but can't quite get the reason or the place.  I've found that grocery clerks fill this role well when seen out in public without an apron on or away from a cash register.  My meanderings have settled lately on the concept of back story.  I may know something about who these cashiers and baristas and fuel pumpers are now, but what their past holds is equally as fascinating to me.  There seems no way, short of taking the initiative to sit down with someone and simply say, "Tell me about your life, thus far."  I've long fantasized doing that, and on occasion have had the opportunity.  Unless we know back story we judge...big time.  At least many peopl

Blue Mountain

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The headline of the article caught my eye.  "It's Best Not to Play Santa to a Teacher."  What is this about, I thought.  Turns out it was a small piece urging parents , their students, and even teachers not to give holiday gifts to their teachers.  I bristled.  Some new kind of teacher bashing?  Now teacher's shouldn't get any gifts from students because it sends the wrong message.  What next?  But a quick read through changed my mind a bit noting that there might be pressure on kids who would love to show their appreciation or fondness for a teacher, but just can't afford to do so.  Point taken.  The author also mentioned that the best "gifts" are a personal note, which everyone can do.  I agree.  But it seems a bit over the top that some school districts actually have policies banning any form of appreciation gift to any employee.  It's codified.  Wonder if it's ever enforced?  If only they could focus their egalitarian efforts on other thi

Raking

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This Bill Moyers quote is obviously a promo for Mother Jones magazine.  Yet, Moyers brings up a fascinating point about the role of journalists today.  The irony, of course is that with all our fancy technology, the democratic values the U.S. was founded on seem to be leaking slowly out of the airship of state.  Today, with the release of data outlining the CIA's role in employing torture techniques in the new post 9/11 security paranoia, our democratic values have taken a mighty hit.  I'd venture to say that we are at a critical juncture as a democracy; the road ahead doesn't look promising. Writer/theorist Henry Geroux has eloquently discussed this trend, this slippage in his book The Violence of Organized Forgetting .  What's so troubling is how the mass of the American people can be transfixed by the distractions of a market economy with it's emphasis on constant consumption.  The stupor is thick...and getting thicker one would think.  They don't hear t

Mortal Night

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I just finished Dr. Atul Gawande's bestselling book, Being Mortal .  This important look at the way our health care model deals with end of life issues suggests that we focus on the home part of nursing home and ask different questions to those whose days are limited.  But before I turned the last page I had an unplanned field trip to my nearest hospital, briefly facing my own mortality in the back of an ambulance. I had now warning or pain.  I read for an hour or so that evening and felt fine.  Early the next morning I felt slightly nauseous and ended up on the floor of my bathroom after vomiting blood.  Definitely surreal because what I puked was nearly black.  When my blood-pressure dropped dramatically, I went over and that prompted the 911 call and the remainder of that day and the next in the hospital.  I'm not only mortal, I'm lucky because a series of tests revealed only a very small ulcer and no other abnormalities.  In a few weeks, they'll send the little cam

Condition

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Teaching provides many opportunities to collect artifacts.  Here's one I've been meaning to share.  I consider it an art form of popular culture.  Sadly, it's now probably extinct because of the way textbooks are distributed.  But...there was a time, when a teacher was responsible for collecting and distributing books.  Lots of record-keeping here.  Some may still do this, but my experience recently says all students go to the textbook room and check out their own books with computerized ID cards. Anyhow, one of the rituals back in the day was to determine the condition of the book, record it on the little form stamped inside the front cover, and then add date and teacher's name. Students, being the clever beings that they are, would often embellish the choice of descriptors.  For years one of the most common forms of written classroom folklore was found inside books that had been checked out. In deconstructing my classroom of 25 years, one of the last things I did w

Elliptical Voyage

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If every piece of writing has a thousand faces, then a poem must have a few hundred, at least.  So many incarnations possible. Here's one: Elliptical voyage   Music Inside my head  Lends Creedence to the rainfall  With eyes closed I'm running Back in time  Back to brown leather and red flannel  Back hair and blues music  Echoing Moving past Neil Young, Dylan's acoustic set,  Harmonicas soothe the Glare of neon idols Is this nowhere?  Does anybody know where The darkest night  Has a few bright stars... Baby,  Let me Follow you down.

Gifted

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A friend of mine just won the "Teacher of the Year" award for the state of Oregon.  Most deserving he is too.  I first met Michael about six years ago when a student teacher I was supervising was placed in his classroom.  We bonded instantly.  He now gets to meet the President, the Secretary of Education and banks a $5,000 check as well.  Sometimes they get it right. Got me thinking, however about the time when I won a similar, local award.  Not quite as prestigious, but certainly very gratifying for someone like me that doesn't handle accolades well.  Nevertheless to be singled out as one of my district's candidates for what was called the annual "Teaching Excellence" award was very humbling.  I'd been nominated by a colleague (and former winner of the award) so it was even more gratifying.  I received a wooden plaque with engraved lettering in gold, and a check for $500. I wish there hadn't been a competition for the award.  I'm not sure how

Mental Construct

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I said good-bye to someone I recently met.  I said good-bye because this person no longer exists.  She was completely in my mind.  The image, and all that went along with it, were based on misconceptions.  Here's the context. A few weeks ago I began to mentor a couple of first year teachers.  Since one of the two was someone I never really met, and didn't know well, I assumed I knew she was.  That assumption came from a memory I had when we were actually in the same room together at the beginning of the previous school year. It was an orientation meeting where all the new student teachers meet their supervisors for the upcoming year.  Somehow, I held on to this image as if it existed. So here we are, a year later and this person is now a first year teacher assigned to me.  We spoke on the phone a few times, and I've gotten to know this young teacher in these early attempts to build trust and learn a little about each other.  That kind of trust and knowledge is essential if

More Complex

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I realize that it is not enough to simply post these dramatic and engaging drawings with nothing more than a brief explanation.  It occurred to me also that in posting these pieces here that they could easily be reproduced.  I agonized over that for a time but in the end decided that if any young teacher, given today's climate, ever reads this and can clearly see how multiple intelligence theory applies here, then it will be worth the risk.   Like thousands of former students of mine, I lost contact with James and it would be difficult to track him down to secure permission.  The drawings were a gift to me, so legally, I'm covered, but that doesn't lessen the dilemma here.  In any event, what is important now is to offer some additional comments on the topic here: visual learners.  To do this, I ask any readers of this blog to comment on what you see in the drawings.  I'll share a few thoughts and then post a couple of additional pictures. The concepts of Adlerian psyc

Complex

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One day, right in the middle of the introductory psychology class I taught, a student ran through the classroom door and then just stood there.  I recognized him as an autistic Special Ed. student who was usually accompanied by an aide.  My class recognized him too. "Hello," I said, "welcome to our psychology class."  He said nothing, but instead ran over to a small bookcase behind my desk in one corner of the room.  My students and I were spellbound.  After a few minutes, he selected a small pink volume from the top row of the shelf.  Without a word, he ran out the door.  I recognized the book as Eudora Welty's One Writer's Beginnings.   Thinking I'd better check with the Special Ed. teacher a few doors down I reached for my classroom phone.  Just then his aide came in, quickly apologized and left.  I never mentioned the book and my students were asking if I ever expected to see it again.  "Guess, we'll find out one of these days," I said

An Invitation

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The legendary oral historian and raconteur, Studs Terkel, once concluded that "your work is your identity."  This, of course, came after completing the wonderful collection of interviews that comprised his book Working.   Stands to reason that when we change jobs or retire, we often have to deal with an identity crisis.  For teachers, this is all too common. Who will I be when I am no longer Mr. Greene? Guess what?  If my experience is any indication, you will be Mr. Greene.  Maybe not in deed, but certainly in idea and inspiration.  I no longer arise at 5:47 (that's right) and teach a full day.  I no longer experience the anxiety that accompanies a new lesson or parent conferences or grading or even the weekend.  But I do still discuss the direction of the profession.  In fact, I do it too much. It's all to easy these days to engage others in an exchange of ideas.  Whether it's social media, or just casual talk in the grocery story or coffee shop, people want t

"Rufus Rastas Johnson Brown" (Von Tilzer) Ragtime song by Arthur Collins...

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Middle (Named) Child

There is an old, American, popular music tune about a character called Rufus Rastus Johnson Brown.  That name alone should tell you a couple of things about this song.  It was popular in the early part of the 20th century when records were of the 78 rpm variety and the music industry was new.  It was a time of elaborate vaudeville-type recordings and a time when racism was about as overt as it could be. "Rufus Rastus Johnson Brown, whatcha gonna do when the rent comes round..." This genre was dubbed the "Coon song"  for obvious reasons.  Collectors of Black Americana today have assembled a variety of this type of sheet music as well.  It's always shocking, always disturbing, often accompanied with graphics that are too.  When we look at the dates, it's not all that long ago, is it? The Jim Crow Museum uses this type of artifact to educate and remind us about this difficult time in our history.  True, the stuff continues today in more subtle, if not sophis

Two Paper Towels

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One of the realities about teaching that seldom gets any attention is the role of parent that accompanies the job.  As a culture we acknowledge that the classroom teacher wears many hats, from instructor to cop, nurturer to protector.  Parents are usually our allies.  We partner with them in the same way we partner with administrators and other community members.  But playing that role to 35 at a time, and 150 a day can sometimes take a toll that seldom gets discussed in all the well-meaning reform conversations taking place these days. Often this role involves what Dr. Phil calls "a safe place to fall."  Teacher as advice giver, as listener, as role model.  Sometimes it's more like first responder. Certainly in the spate of recent school shootings, we have seen teachers and other school personnel rise to the occasion and play the protector/defender role with selfless courage.  And then there are those physical emergencies.  Actually that seems to be a euphemism.  The e

Surprise?

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I was reading an article by a woman called Julia Galef about a new teaching strategy called Surprise Journals.  The thinking here is that we get locked in to our opinions and beliefs and then seek affirmation from those with similar thinking.  She writes:  "Many behavioral psychology and cognitive science studies demonstrate that humans find it difficult to change their opinions.  In what is known as the "bias blind spot," it is much easier for us to see other people's biases than our own. The "confirmation bias" reveals that we seek out feedback from people who are likely to agree with us: We read newspapers and watch TV talk shows that are probably going to tell us things we already agree with. Galef says that there is much more research about how biased humans are than how to change these biases. "I really wanted to get better at changing my mind...This is not a perfect solution, but it has gone a long way to making me more open and less defensivene

Brown-Eyed Girl

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I remember going for a walk that day.  It must have been before the VISTA training was over because I didn't have a car.  I must have been eager to get outside and off my myself because most July days in Houston, Texas are hot.  Hot as in 100 degrees or more, then muggy then cloudy then gully-washer rainstorms, then steamy, then hot again. I remember it was Westheimer Road where I ended up walking.  Not sure how far out of town or where exactly but I entered a small antique store and began to look around. The usual array of items in a small glass case. Some jewelry, old political buttons, Depression glass...watches.  On the walls various paintings, on the tables, more glassware and dinner sets of fine china.  And then I saw her.  I looked right in her face and was fixated.  The oval frame was cheap but the watercolor painting was deep and clear, and haunting.  The artist had talent.  The brown eyes were lifelike, the yellow bonnet enchanting. I couldn't have paid much more

Sound Behavior

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Most teachers I know have heard the sound.  They know when it is likely to happen, and, truth be told, which student is likely to make it.  Probably Social Science and Language Arts teachers have more experience with it.  Subjects that deal with the human condition are more likely to produce the sound, but it’s definitely not exclusive to the humanities.  All too often the sound is predictable.  In fact because a teacher is often able to predict this occurrence it could actually be avoidable.  But censorship presents other problems. So what’s the mystery noise?  It’s the enthusiastic, often adoring, sound of unbridled excitement when one human being hits another.  You might be showing a documentary on labor strife or the film version of a classic piece of literature.  When raw violence occurs, usually in the form of a slap across the face, or as we’ve recently seen in surveillance videos a knockout punch, there are always a few in any classroom who literally jump out of their

Tackle This

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The media is all abuzz with the story of Baltimore Ravens running back Ray Rice.  New video released today shows just how brutal his violent assault on his then girlfriend, now wife actually was.  That the NFL failed to act in a serious and timely fashion is part of the story.  Today he was summarily cut by the team because there is definite proof that he knocked his beloved unconscious with one punch to the jaw.  All this took place behind the closed doors... of an elevator. Sure he should be severely disciplined...even lose his job, undergo counseling, and serve as an example to other young NFL players who think they are untouchable. But something is missing from all the outrage.  The NFL is and has been getting increasingly violent.  Small wonder that it's players often react violently in every phase of their lives. Until this story surfaced, and then resurfaced with the new video most of the current NFL concern centered around the impact of violence on brain injuries.  Al

Quick Take

One of the most succinct and accurate observations I've heard all week about the rise of ISIS in Iraq and the terrorist threat they represent all over the globe involved the use of a famous quote from John F. Kennedy.  Fascinating how decades later, it applies perfectly to so many uprisings violent reactions, and tyrannical leaders currently on the scene.  I'd love to use this quote as the basis for an essay or better yet, group discussion in classrooms this year. Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable. John F. Kennedy

A Change Is Gonna Come, Sam Cooke, 1963

Seems like things have been particularly difficult the last few weeks.  Hamas/Israeli conflict, execution of an American journalist by ISIS, Ferguson, Mo.  Afghanistan, veterans care at home, natural disasters- mudslides, forest fires, bizarre climate change whether, drought, floods, loss of Robin Williams, Ebola virus, Nigerian girls kidnapped, biased media coverage, ignorance/intolerance, pervasive violence in everything from sports to gaming to "entertainment," Immigration/humanitarian crises... I was telling some young friends the other day to remember what I learned a while back, that no matter how bad things seem, how down/depressed we get, that some things will always be here.  This Sam Cooke tune is timeless and ever available.

When I Die

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With the nation's eyes on Ferguson, Missouri this week, the dialogue, defense, and disintegration of race and racism in America continues.  Every hour of every day brings new and questionable revelations about the incident that caused the death of Michael Brown.  Trying to figure out how and why an unarmed individual took six shots is tricky business. So many of the lessons learned from the 1960s have served me well in trying to make sense of this latest episode of the tragedy that is American race relations.  Granted, so much has changed in the last 50 years, but astonishingly, some things remain the same. Best to distinguish between a riot and a rebellion first.  Both elements are at play here.  Also important to recognize who and where some of the protesters are, and are from, and what views they represent.  There will always be those elements who desire confrontation, and those who will depart with the slightest sign of conflict. In the end, the personality of the real Micha

Backstory

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The small university where I supervise and mentor beginning teachers is hiring a new teacher.  A professor, if you will.  It's a process that invites all members of the Ed. Dept. to participate by attending a formal presentation of the candidate's research, followed by an informal interview type discussion.  I'm not sure who makes the final decision, but I know I can provide feedback from my perceptions and that it will be considered by the dept. head and the other faculty. There were three candidates, and I only attended one of the presentations because of schedule demands.  No matter.  I don't really work all that closely with the profs and I may not do this very much longer.  Of course, I say that every year and then go back for another round. So, I decided to attend the presentation/interview for a candidate who attended two branches of the University of California, like me, and then lived and worked in and near the Bay Area. I was not disappointed.  I say this b

Like what?

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His obituary was on the front page of my local paper.  Robin Williams commanded that kind of attention.  Shortly after news of his apparent suicide, the internet lit up like a 50-1 longshot.  But there were really no surprises here.  The price of massive talent, massive intellect, massive sensitivity and genius is often depression. And yet, this is a different kind of denial.  I'm more angry than sad right now.  The shock and empathy will come later on.  It always does. There will, no doubt, be testimonials for months to come.  Unlike other celebrities, I won't tire of them.  he was so different.  More like Richard Pryor, the kind of comedian that didn't need to say anything to elicit laughter. There is a haunting image this morning.  The media shows Robin Williams star on the Hollywood walk of fame.  It is surrounded by people and flowers and all manner of messages and tributes.  Only the stoney monument looks back.  The golden letters that spell out his name stare b

At Your Feet

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Like most people I know, I've been following the recent flareup between the Israelis and the Hamas led Palestinian government insurgents.  I guess that's what they should be called.  It's such a complex situation to begin with, so the terminology is always dicey. I know the roots of this seemingly ageless conflict.  I know the convoluted series of viewpoints and most importantly the glaring contradictions.  I've read, with interest, many articles and op ed pieces detailing all manner of solutions or bleak forecasts.  In recent weeks, the glaring problem here is the continual maiming and killing of women and children in Gaza.  Today alone, another report came of 10 death at a U.N. sponsored school in Gaza.  If the thought of that is troubling, then the pictures available are more so.  Tenfold troubling.  With the technology available today the carnage is PTSD worthy.      Like all wars, this conflict seems to be bringing out the worst and the best in humankind.  Some p

John Fahey-Red Pony 1969

When I stopped in at my local Powell’s bookstore this morning I noticed a new biography of guitarist John Fahey. I guess I knew died a few years ago, but looking through a few chapters and some of the photos of the book confirmed it for me. One thing that caught my attention was the author saying he regretted having only seen Fahey in concert one time and toward the end of his career at that. I realized that I hadn’t seen him or even heard about him for years but what was even more striking was the fact I used to see him often in the early days of his career. That would be the mid to late 1960s. John Fahey was a master guitar finger picker and had a he following back in the day. He also had a few albums out there and played a variety of venues from small clubs to large theaters. I recall seeing him in The Ashgrove, the famous L.A. folk club a few times but also while a student at UCLA. Fahey played a few times in Royce Hall, the UCLA landmark of Italian Romanesque architec

Consderation

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The question stayed with me.  It was so simple, so direct, yet it had been asked so many other ways before.  One of my writing project colleagues asked it of university students, but I couldn't wait to get it into my high school curriculum.  There were so many places it would fit.  the wait would not be long. About a week later, during my unit on the American Dream /nightmare in 20th century literature, the opening came.  The key to the lock was a small op-ed piece by an Asian American that also happened to be accompanied by a picture of Olympic champion Michele Kwan. The piece detailed how a TV reporter momentarily forgot that Kwan was an American and then went on to explain and illustrate the author's plight being misjudged the same way.  Hence the question: Do You Consider Yourself an American? I had my class respond anonymously to the question and then shared some of their statements with surprising results.  My students did and did not consider themselves Americans.

Shipping News

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The other day, I thought of something that happened decades ago.  I was 18 and a college Freshman, working a minimum wage job for barely a dollar an hour.  Summer...Southern California...no air conditioning and bottom of the totem pole.  The distributorship for Sony tape recorders had recently opened a plant in my home town of Sun Valley.  Cassettes were just coming within reach, video tape was a few years away, but reel to reel stereo recorders were the thing and this business was growing daily. I packed small electronic parts and weighed them for either United Parcel or the U.S. Postal Service.  I ran errands which could be anything from picking up food orders for the executives when they worked overtime to taking their Cadillacs to be washed and gassed. By 4:00 in the afternoon we'd load a VW van and whoever was working with me that day and I would take a truckload of small parcels to the post office.  Clean up and one last interoffice mail delivery and that was the day. I go

Open Up

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One of the books on my summer reading list is the currently popular self-help book called Mindset by Carol Dweck.  I'm not usually in the habit of reading this type of book, but Dweck's credentials are impeccable as an educational psychology out of Stanford, and ...the book was assigned, I mean agreed upon for  a small group of educators I'm currently working with...In other words, I gotta read it and be prepared to discuss its application to current pedagogy. The thesis of Mindset is simply that the way we approach a task often determines how successful we will become.  An open or closed mind might be another way t think about this.  Dweck offers numerous examples from the world of sports to the academic universe to support this idea.  The book is, in fact, quite repetitious. Is this idea new?  Not really, but it does force us to think about the mental attitude we bring to everything from daily tasks to life changing decisions.  She highlights the "growth mindset&q

No Ladies

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Im not quite sure when Feminism turned into Post-Feminism.  I see evidence all around me that the consciousness of the early 1970s seems to have vanished. Beauty contests abound, the media is rife with all the old stereotypes, just in slightly different forms, and much to my surprise, the language hasn't changed all that much.  The "B" word seems to be as prevalent as ever and men continue to put down other men through women whether it be motherfucker, bitch, son of the later, or any of the other possibilities. And then there is the use of the term lady/ladies.  I thought for sure that woman/women would completely replace that one.  Or so it seemed. The women I knew back then didn't want to be referred to by any term that smacked of "dainty" or "lady-like."  Ladies, they informed the world, were put on pedistels by the patriarchy.  Seemed reasonable. In one of the most memorable moments from my time spent in Texas I recall an angry young Feminist