Rainy Mississippi Meditations

I started my day today as I usually do, Froot Loops and coffee and social media.  Stella and Chewie were happily throwing each other to the living room floor.  Much needed rain was falling outside.  It should have been a peaceful moment.

Then I clicked a link to a news story and read the comments.

How long is Mississippi going to insist on being backwards?  Why is it that in every possible pursuit we continually and seemingly enthusiastically race toward the prejudiced, the intolerant, the exclusionary, or the corrupt?

We wonder why people leave and never return.  I have so many loved ones - friends, family members, former students - who have made their lives across the country or across the globe not because they wanted to leave family but because they could not have a future here or simpy be accepted for who and what they are.  Our best and our brightest are the very ones we are driving away.  The ones who could do more and better go.  As long as this continues, what hope is left?

I love this state.  I believe now as much as I have in the past that she could be something great.  Her leadership, though, seems stuck in the 1950s.  I can understand why.  It is undoubtedly very comfortable for them there.  They are undisputed masters of all they survey, fat and sleek and able to slip the hand into the till at their leisure.  Who wouldn't love a system in which all the toys belonged to them alone?

Leaders are called to be more.  They have been called to put the welfare of the state as a whole first, have stood before a God they only pay lipservice to during the elections and sworn oaths to do so.  What they don't seem to recognize or honor is that leadership is full of sacrifice - sacrifice of self for the right, sacrifice of the leader's good for the good of all.  Instead, they have made a private club of it and employed a "let them eat cake" mentality toward the rest.  I wonder if they forget the lessons history has to teach about how well that worked out for the originators....

I suppose the leaders are not alone in their fault, though.  Somehow, some way, the electorate chose to put these people in places of power.  Despite the fact that they never change, we continue to put some of them in office over and over and over....  Maybe they are giving out a temporary boon, a paved road, a cleared "situation," a business favor between "friends."  Maybe we, too, need to stop accepting a short-term grab-and-go and begin to look down the road at what is right for everybody, to do what is right for those who will come after us.

I still believe - foolishly, perhaps - that change is possible.  After all, if nothing else happens, the system will collapse on itself and change will happen in that way.  I'd like to think instead that my fellow Mississippians will come together and try to gain control of this before it has to be broken completely and reset to allow for proper healing.  I think we may be very close to that point.

Not Just for Shakespeare

Today began a unit on Modern literature.  We started looking at Eliot's "The Hollow Men" as a way into the characteristics of the period.  They have been working on Prufrock for a week by themselves.  We will pick up on it tomorrow together, and we'll move from Eliot to discussion of As I Lay Dying and Their Eyes Were Watching God.

I love Eliot.  I always have.  It was probably an early warning sign of future English-teacherdom that I was buying Dover Thrift Editions of his works during my own high school days.

I do understand how challenging he is.  He operated at "god level" when it came to weaving allusions with stream of consciousness and vivid imagery.  Even most of my bravest students are daunted when it comes to dealing with him for the first time.  (Those that aren't...well...lots of them are now English teachers, too...)

As I was preparing copies of the poem for TPCASTT annotation, a thought occurred.  What if I tried the Folger 3-D tactic with "The Hollow Men"?  I was curious as to whether or not the strategy would be as successful with helping my students to shape meaning for themselves with this complex poetry.  It had worked so well with the Seven Ages of Man speech at the beginning of the year.  I piddled and pondered, and finally, I decided to see what would happen.

I did use part of a PowerPoint of Doom this time because I wanted to remind them of the general feelings of despair, distrust, and brokenness that inform Modern literature.  I slipped through it quickly, presented the format of a TPCASTT, and had them make quick notes on their initial reaction to the title.  Then we read through the entire poem with each student taking a line.

They took to the activity with no hesitation, prompting each other if someone got lost.  When we got to part V with its "here we go round the prickly pear" portion, some of them actually caught on and put the tune to it.  One student missed his cue for his line, and he laughed.  "I was singing the song in my head.  Sorry."  The final lines drew a big reaction from everyone, "Hey!  I've heard that before...."  Suddenly, there was a connection with something that had been more or less threatening and unintelligible.

Because I was doing this on the fly and time was short, I asked them to get with partners immediately after that and "see what they noticed."

They started putting big chunks of it together, and I eavesdropped on their conversations.

"They're scarecrows, right?  I see 'heads stuffed with straw.'"

"They aren't real scarecrows.  I think they're supposed to be like people?"

"Everything in this poem is dead.  Look.  'Stone....cactus....dry....'"

I couldn't hide my glee.  It had worked.  One student saw me smiling and eyed me suspiciously.

"What?  Ms. Waters, did I say something silly?"

"Not at all.  Not.  At.  All.  You were dead on.  Keep going."

And they did.

We talked through parts of it today, and they were a little amazed at how much they had understood with just one brief dip into the work.  I saw smiles.  I saw confidence growing.  I saw the same group who had almost without exception raised their hands when I'd asked who didn't feel comfortable dealing with poetry at the beginning of the class suddenly eagerly pointing out things that were dry or purposeless.

Tomorrow, we will start with the portion of the read-through where each person takes an entire sentence as a review before finishing it and moving on to Prufrock.  I can't wait to see how much more they can extract.  The benefits of what I learned this summer at the Folger just keep coming.

PD

My administrator showed up outside my door two weeks ago and asked/told me to co-lead a PD session with one of my colleagues to be a part of our staff development day .  She and I started putting things together the best we could.  We tweaked and edited.

Then, two days before we were to present, the great grumbling began. There is nothing like knowing you're going to have to stand up in front of a room full of your peers who are angry at having to be there.  As time ticked away, I had a migraine.  Both of us had nightmares about technology failure, general rebellion, the usual meeting horrors.

Friday finally came, and by that point, I just wanted it all to be done.  We presented for our first group, and I gradually saw the grumpy faces smooth out some.  They asked some questions, tried out some of the strategies and apps we were presenting.  We gave away candy and Dollar Tree door prizes as a part of the demonstration of some of the tools.  When we finished up, they walked out with smiles.

Fifteen minutes later, we did a second session, and much the same pattern repeated.  I wanted to collapse when it was all over, but we made it through.

While I didn't volunteer to do the PD Friday, I still tried to do something I would want to attend.  My biggest fear was that the other teachers would think Jayne and I were saying, "Oh my GOD.  We are SO FANCY.  Be like us."  Nothing could have been further from the truth.  She and I just put together things we'd found to be helpful and told them how we'd used them.

I don't know if they will ever use anything Jayne and I put together for them, but I hope at least they weren't still angry at having to come.  I am the Queen of Not Liking Meetings.  I understand.  Too often, our PD winds up being an overpaid and condescending consultant or someone who has a PowerPoint and reads every line.  Teachers have so little time and so much that needs to be done that I think we are grudging of every second.  We don't mind coming to something that helps us do better for our students, but when a presentation is clearly a way for someone to practice the time-honored art of Covering One's Backside or Padding One's Bank Account, we don't tend to respond well.

What happened Friday is what I believe good PD should look like:  peers sharing.  We could all share things that have been tested out with our kids on our campus.  We could all point out apps that had been run with our technology filters in place and our WiFi connection providing the hookup.  We could avoid the problems that come with being the first person to do something.  Together, we could be stronger.

It would be nice to think Friday was a first step in this process.  I suppose only time will tell.

The Day the Newspaper Went Live

For an entire nine weeks, my little staff and I have been anxiously working toward this day, the day the newspaper would finally "go live" and be publicized.

Today's date has been in bright red at the top of my whiteboard for four weeks.  For a publication that exists only online, this process was less about ad sales and formatting.  As a complete restart, we had to find, pay for, and set up our software.  Our staff had to learn how to follow AP formatting.  We had to go on interviews, take and edit photos, decide on polls, and then get all of that uploaded into the website.

Our trip to the MSPA Fall Workshop was a huge booster shot of ideas and enthusiasm.  We needed it for the final push to publication.

My staff has been relentless in their dedication.  I was so worried that a staff of seven would be too small, but when I look at what they have created, I realize how ridiculous that fear was.

Yesterday, we were all working furiously to finish the last tasks. During our class period, everyone was focused on getting a last editorial review and resizing feature images.  During my planning period, a few members and I hung posters all over campus announcing our return.  I was signing up for a new Instagram account for the paper at 10:30 and editing even thirty minutes later. Stories were being uploaded right up to midnight, and I did final brushups over my fruit loops this morning.

As I dressed in my spirit shirt and jeans, I had to admit I felt a little nervous.  Would everyone be able to appreciate just how much work my staff had done?  Would they find our site appealing and informative?

Had we done it "right"?

All day long, students, staff members, and community members came by, made comments on the site, shared it on Facebook, or emailed to tell us that they liked what they saw.   The students were over the moon, and I was right there with them.

It's hard to believe we have come from literally nothing to this point in so short a time.  I hope that we can look back at these first steps when we come to the end of the year and appreciate even more growth.  I am so very proud of my little group.  We made it through the first storm.  In the words of Frankenstein....

Check us out online at http://mhswildcat.com.

All the Alumni

Last Thursday morning at 2:30, I flailed my hand at my screeching phone, turned on my bedside lamp, and sat up on the edge of the bed.  It was time to get up to go to the MSPA Fall Workshop.

After fairly large applications of caffeine and a hot shower, I was awake enough to find my way to town and to campus, pulling into my familiar parking spot in an eerily empty lot.  My phone was already sending me Remind notifications from my eager staffers who were on campus and looking for me.

Since it was Homecoming week, mischief had been afoot in the community, and as we were waiting for our bus to arrive in front of the building, two police cars pulled up to make sure we weren't a problem.  We talked to the officers briefly; it turned out one of them was a former student of mine.

This was to be a recurring theme....

The eight of us boarded the bus, and we headed out for the three-and-a-half hour trip north to the University of Mississippi campus.  The students had brought blankets and pillows, and I think they were all asleep before we ever got to the highway.  I popped in headphones, and Bob Dylan and I dozed as the miles slipped away.

When we got to Ole Miss, we were driving through campus looking for the place where the workshop was being held, and before the bus had even parked, I saw another of my former students walking down the sidewalk heading to class.  We circled around, and I got to talk with her.

We got into the workshop, and after the first session, we had boxed lunches in the famous Grove.  My phone buzzed, and yet another of my formers was headed to see us after her classes.  She and I walked through the bookstore and had a good visit before our schedules separated us again.

As much as I got paper-sponsor-wise at the conference, part of my enjoyment of the day was in seeing all those former students in their different phases of life:  undergrad, grad school, and active career.  It was a great reminder of where those students on the bus with me were headed soon.

Those encounters are rejuvenating, too, because sometimes the struggle to overcome the "thousand natural shocks that [education] is heir to" obscures those fabulous futures.  As they say in so many cliched sports situations, "eye on the prize."  There are victories.  Press on.