Wednesday, June 3, 2009

classroom notes #13: both sides now

Taylor Mali is chicken soup for the teacher's soul. His poem, “Like Lilly Like Wilson” (there’s also a clip of Mali performing it on YouTube if you prefer to listen rather than read) is like so like awesome.

In my undergraduate year, I took a course with my liberal-minded friend. Our assignment for the tutorial group was to hold a debate on the legalization of marijuana. I can’t even remember what the course name was anymore and why we were debating marijuana when my degree was in the stream of Ecology and Evolution.

Of course, my liberal-minded friend and I decided to group together since we had taken a few courses together already and we knew both of us were good at public speaking. And since my friend was liberal-minded, he was inarguably arguing for the legalization of marijuana.

But we needed a third group member.

Our third group member was a girl, as vocal as my liberal-minded friend and as strong in mind… but in opposition.

She didn’t want to argue against her own personal beliefs. “I am personally against drugs,” she said adamantly. And what a sight it was, this strong vocal girl pitted against my liberal-minded friend, a conflict between her morals and my liberal-minded friend’s liberalness.

In the end she had no choice but to stand with us… reluctantly… in the debate on the side for legalization… all against her own personal beliefs. Then the research started and with each group meeting new ideas formed, new points of views studied.

And like “Like Lilly Like Wilson”, her mind changed until even she couldn’t believe that she could ever be advocating for marijuana and going as far as to believe in what she’s saying. Especially on a topic she was initially reluctant to speak for against her own initial beliefs.

We may not be able to influence the way other people think and it’s not about changing the way other people think; but rather, how we should take the time to understand different sides and start by changing the way we think.


Like Lilly Like Wilson
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Azu8XWcHzFM
By Taylor Mali

I'm writing the poem that will change the world,
and it's Lilly Wilson at my office door.
Lilly Wilson, the recovering like addict,
the worst I've ever seen.
So, like, bad the whole eighth grade
started calling her Like Lilly Like Wilson Like.
Until I declared my classroom a Like-Free Zone,
and she could not speak for days.

But when she finally did, it was to say,
Mr. Mali, this is . . . so hard.
Now I have to think before I . . . say anything.

Imagine that, Lilly.

It's for your own good.
Even if you don't like . . .
it.

I'm writing the poem that will change the world,
and it's Lilly Wilson at my office door.
Lilly is writing a research paper for me
about how homosexuals shouldn't be allowed
to adopt children.
I'm writing the poem that will change the world,
and it's Like Lilly Like Wilson at my office door.

She's having trouble finding sources,
which is to say, ones that back her up.
They all argue in favor of what I thought I was against.

And it took four years of college,
three years of graduate school,
and every incidental teaching experience I have ever had
to let out only,

Well, that's a real interesting problem, Lilly.
But what do you propose to do about it?
That's what I want to know.

And the eighth-grade mind is a beautiful thing;
Like a new-born baby's face, you can often see it
change before your very eyes.

I can't believe I'm saying this, Mr. Mali,
but I think I'd like to switch sides.

And I want to tell her to do more than just believe it,
but to enjoy it!
That changing your mind is one of the best ways
of finding out whether or not you still have one.
Or even that minds are like parachutes,
that it doesn't matter what you pack
them with so long as they open
at the right time.
O God, Lilly, I want to say
you make me feel like a teacher,
and who could ask to feel more than that?
I want to say all this but manage only,
Lilly, I am like so impressed with you!

So I finally taught somebody something,
namely, how to change her mind.
And learned in the process that if I ever change the world
it's going to be one eighth grader at a time.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

classroom notes #12: the inclusive teacher

It takes energy to motivate and inspire the low ability learners.

It takes energy to challenge and push the average ability learners.

It takes energy to keep up and differentiate for the high ability learners.

That’s 3x the energy.

If only Red Bull really gives me wings.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

classroom notes #11: then and now

What happened to imagination?

What happened to make-believe, dressing up in real and imaginary costumes, talking to imaginary people in outrageous imaginary scenes?

What happened to pretending that your house is actually underwater and the only way to get around is by swimming and you talk all gurgly because that's how people talk when they are underwater?

What happened to inventing out-of-this-world inventions that really saves the world or is this great big contraption that pops out strawberry mint drops?

What happened to round robin storytelling where each successive kid would add in an even crazier, more bizarre problem for the hero to solve with her super duper fantasticombustibal powers?

What happened to creative writing about an old miserly man who had a spider for a pet and the spider loved to listen to Rachmaninoff?

What happened to little outings out in the backyard that turn into journeys of epic proportions?

What happened to bath-time water wars; the sailboat lurking behind the caverns of the knees, ready to ambush the unsuspecting Captain Quacky Duck, but the little pony mermaid saves the day and they splash off into the porcelain horizon?

What happened to reading a storybook and believing that anything is possible, only to have your mum yell about the big hole in the yard when all you were really doing is practicing for a future career in archaeology?

What happened to flightful fancies of exploration, sneaking about in the safari of the living-room hoping to avoid the wild creatures before cautiously entering the Pyramids of the bedroom and daring each other to see who will get hit with King Tut's curse?

What happened to making your own treasure hunt with strange cryptic clues only to have no one able to find the treasure, but it's okay since that means more Skittles for you?

What happened to the kids of today?

Thursday, May 7, 2009

classroom notes #10: just a job?

Today I felt so frustrated with my kids. I keep pushing them to go beyond themselves, to think deeper with more complexity, to make themselves stand out and I felt as if I was talking to air. Is this the product of the Hong Kong education system? Is this the result of a culture where priority is on examination placement and everything else is not of their concern? And then I thought, am I asking too much of them?

I always tell my fellow teaching friends that whenever they feel angry, sad, or frustrated to remember that in the end, being a teacher is only a job and to detach themselves from any negative feelings but then it's not that simple. You invest in the well-being of your students both emotionally and mentally and the resulting mass of frustration steaming out is from seeing them not growing to the potential that you know is there.

*pulls hair out*

Friday, March 13, 2009

classroom notes #9: learning as a teacher

What is worse? Feeling angry at someone or being disappointed in them?

That's a lesson my kids experienced today...

When a teacher is angry, she may yell, shout, scold, punish, assign stacks of penmanship or other repetitive unwanted tasks.

When a teacher is angry, she may look frazzled like a monster with static-y hair.

When a teacher is angry, you can almost see the steam coming out of her ears, and the furrows between the brows is like a mask that is slipped on over her normally cheerful demeanour.

When a teacher is angry, you don't take it seriously because the teacher still cares to push you to finish your work and still cares to make you work harder, as hard as you are capable and then even more.

But.

When a teacher is disappointed, it's as if a dark gloomy cloud has settled over the classroom.

When a teacher is disappointed, there is only silence, that can't be stirred back up and you start wishing for the teacher to yell, shout, scold, punish, and assign stacks of penmanship or other repetitive unwanted tasks.

When a teacher is disappointed, you feel lost since anger is something easier understood.

When a teacher is disappointed, it is more serious because you are faced with the teacher's expectations and hopes compared with your own effort.

It got me thinking about my own parents. How many times have I made my parents angry? And how many times were they disappointed in me? And so it becomes my own lesson today too.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

classroom notes #8: it's all worth it

The bell rings. It’s the end of a lesson.

“That’s it for today. Hand in your work.”

Chairs scrape loudly echoing off the walls in the hall.

“Don’t forget your homework sheet. It’s due next week.”

Kids muttering impatiently as they wait to be dismissed.

“You need to write in complete sentences and give five good reasons.”

The noise level increases as papers rustle and kids start running around upstairs.

“Give examples. Such as… For example…”

Feet shuffle about as they edge towards the door ready to flee.

“Okay, good-bye class.”

Within seconds, the hall is deserted.

Then a tug on my sleeve and a quiet voice… “Thank you, Miss Hester.”

My pleasure.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

classroom notes #7: a feathery love

A teacher is like a mother duck.

A mother duck waddling about with 35 little ducklings trailing behind.

Fledglings really, learning how to use their wings and fly.

And making lots of noise in the process. A gaggle, a gargle, gurgly quacks

Sometimes you might even want to pull all the feathers from your head out of frustration.

But behind the frustration there is always lots of love.

Love.

A teacher loves with all her feathers.

A teacher loves all the little quirks and quacks.

A quacky love.

What happens when one little fledgling will never feel the starlight on her wings or fly with windy delight?

The world fills up with clouds of stormy rain.

Yet, the duck waddles on with 34 little ducklings trailing behind.

And through the clouds you still smile brightly, for the 34 little ducklings trailing behind.