Pencils

 The newly appointed Secretary of Education, Dr. Miguel Cardona delivered some acceptance remarks this morning.  At the conclusion of his presentation, he quoted a Spanish saying that was most appropriate.  Translated, it means, "We gain strength from joining together."

Hearing these words of wisdom came on the heels of reading an article directed at teachers who are having trouble keeping their students engaged.  With the loss of traditional classrooms comes the added pressure to get students to buy into the whole world of virtual education.  There are ways but that means taking routine lessons and super-charging them with some little things that are designed to get students' attention in dynamic if not dramatic ways.  Ways, I would submit that are unforgettable.  

In the words of a tried and true professional, focus on some "grabbers" at the outset and see if they don't serve you well.  Here's an example.  I have taught many novels by John Steinbeck.  Within their structure are always deeper, overarching themes that many students have difficulty seeing.  While this skill might seem elementary, it is often what makes the difference between appreciating any work of literature and building the motivation to read.  

I once had the time and resources to pair novels in my American Literature class.  So works in the more traditional cannon could be paired with newer or similar or books written by underrepresented authors.  In dealing with Steinbeck, his fascination with "phalanx theory" is crucial.  This is the belief that people behave differently in groups, and that the consciousness of group identity can be a powerful force in social change and social justice.  

Here's how I learned to introduce that concept.  The day before introducing this idea I would get myself a new package of pencils.  In a good school year, I might be able to include them with my classroom supplies order.  If not I liked to go to a stationery store and buy a 12 pack of the brand that had bright yellow pencils with the word American printed on them in royal blue. I would act like a magician in front of the class and produce the package of pencils.  Immediate attention because many were thinking that I might be handing them out.  Slowly I'd take one brand new sparkling pencil out of the pack and then grasp it so that I was holding each end in one hand.  "Watch carefully," I'd say.  Then, sliding my hands toward the middle I'd abruptly snap the pencil in half.  There was an immediate element of surprise.  What teacher deliberately destroys a writing utensil?  Interest and motivation rise.  Then I'd take the package of 11 remaining pencils and try to break them all at once.  No dice. I couldn't even break one when I held the remaining eleven. In fact, I'd tell the class, it can't be done.  The final phase of this brief demo involves inviting who the class considers to be the strongest person in the room to break the 11 pencils at once.  Usually an athlete, the student would give it a try or two or three before giving up.  So what have we learned?  Together there is strength.  

Simple as this is, it makes the point indelible.  

Oh Brother Where Art Thou From?

 They are only small phrases, but we hear them all the time.  Perhaps a different or embellished way of spouting a cliche?  Perhaps something someone said in our formative years that wouldn't leave us alone.  So enchanting that we made it part of our permanent response file.

I'm talking about those expressions people say, repeatedly, that somehow stick with us over the years.  Case in point: Lots of folks say "Oh Brother," when astonished or faced with sudden disappointment.  I say "Oh Brother, Bob."  That's because about 40 years ago I had a girlfriend whose family emulated their father who had a brother named Bob.  My friend's father would say "Oh Brother, Bob as a small child responding to an older brother.  The phrase stuck was passed on to every family member, and then to me when exposed to its constant use.  Perhaps adding "Bob" gives it more appeal, more sting, more astonishment?  Probably not.  Still, I've noticed when I use the phrase while watching a baseball or football game or reacting to some of the unprecedented political developments of the past year, people pick it up.

Here's another that has stayed with me.  People often say "For cryin' out loud" when angry or upset.  I say "For cryin' on a bucket."  This comes from a neighbor and his family that shared my childhood.  Two mischievous brothers who lived just down the street from me were always getting disciplined by their father.  Dad, a Boston native transplanted to Southern California would shriek "Oh for cryin' in a bucket."  His words were always heeded, but we'd all find some time to giggle about that phrase afterward.

There are others, and I'm sure you have a few yourself.  I've noticed that terms and phrases are fairly popular these days.  Waving a finger like a metronome is all too common on the basketball court.  If in an excited sports watching frenzy, I find that the defense held, or a feared hitter from the opposition strikes out ending a threat, I'll blurt out, "You better just forgeet about it!"  That's because one of the neighborhood kids I played baseball with had a shop teacher in middle school who used to turn down his students' requests with that expression.  He adopted it and brought the phrase to all neighborhood affairs from that time on.  As a 16-year-old driver, if someone cut him off or wanted t make a sudden left turn in front of him, he'd blurt out, "You better just forgeet about it."  I catch myself saying those words on occasion some 60 years later.  

This is urban folklore at its best. it survives and becomes part of our oral tradition.  As the world becomes smaller through encroaching technology, what was once a local expression in a small corner of one country count end up anywhere.

Back In The Day

 My old high school (the one I attended, not taught at) has a Facebook page.  "People Who Attended________-High School." Mostly it's Baby Boomers discussing their favorite songs from the 60s, whatever happened to a favorite pizza place, or hangout, and sharing scanned photos from old football games or dances.  Seems to me that the people who frequent this page are the ones clinging to their youthful identities a bit more than most.  I think too, that many of them still live within the boundaries of the school district.  In any case, whenever I look there, a name rings a bell, the death of a former teacher is announced, or more frequently these days, the passing of a former student is the topic of discussion.

My high school years were 1962-65.  It was the era of car clubs for boys, social clubs for girls, and lots of recognition for school athletics. There was a dance every Friday night.  That's right, every Friday night.  Sometimes admission was only 25 cents because the music was Top 40 records.  Occasionally a live band provided the music.  Admission climbed to 75 cents or a dollar.  On rare occasions, performers with hit records currently in the top 10 would belt out their music in the gym, complete with sequins that gleamed off a twirling disco ball.  And that was pre-disco too.  But that meant that everybody had someplace to go on Friday night.  Even if only for an hour, people stopped by, talked to a favorite teacher chaperoning that night, and met new friends.

In those days the Senior classes had names, colors, class sweaters, and mottos.  It was a big deal.  Nothing like that exists now.  My own students found it difficult to believe that there was a dance every Friday.  During my last few years in the classroom, I saw more dances canceled than actually happen.  Things are more complicated today and therefore more expensive.  But it is not my intent to judge or compare these two time frames.  Things change.  What is lost and what is gained is not always an even tradeoff.  We really cannot go home again and we know it.  

Yet, those who would extol the virtues of that simpler time seem lost in the impossibility of progress.  It may or may not be more complicated for high school kids to enjoy a social activity today, but do we stop trying?  It's easy to watch those old films, laugh at the old photos, comment on how naive people seem, but who and where is the last laugh.  There is no sound reason that we can't have school again.  And no sound reason why some things can't be simplified so people have fun in the process.