Five times. Yes, I admit it: I took College Algebra five times. Of course, I dropped three times out of the five attempts: dropped on the last drop date possible because I kept trudging along hoping against hope that something would click. It didn't. The fifth time I took College Algebra, I was largely pregnant, and spent the entire semester running out of the math classroom with severe morning sickness. I suspect that the math professor gave me a few points for effort. I had never been so proud of a C- in all of my school days. Really.
But that wasn't the end of my math adventures. No indeed. The universe has ways of playing sick jokes on me. With my newly minted PhD degree in Literary and Cultural Studies, I adjunct taught at ITT the summer before I started working full time at a college. I was hired to teach English Composition. However, the assistant dean came to me in a panic. He wanted to know if I could teach Problem Solving and Theory too. When I asked him what that entailed, he said "critical thinking." Imagining something along the lines of the old analytic part of the GRE, I readily agreed. You know, I pictured the farmer had to get the fox, the chicken, and the seeds across the river type of problem. So a week later, the week classes begin, I receive the book. To my chagrin, I realized the bulk of the class focused on math! The course description said it drew from science, psychology, sociology, English, and math. I panicked! How could I teach math?
Fortunately, for me, I married a math whiz. He answers geometry questions on demand without a pencil! Physics and trigonometry are child's play to him. Also, he has a latent talent: teaching math. The night before class, he explained the math concepts to me in such a way that I understood. He answered all the "whys" and "hows" that my other math teachers could not answer. Then, I explained it back to him to see if I understood it on that basic level. My new math abilities were pleasingly surprising -- truly serendipitous even.
The next day, I found myself at the whiteboard with mad math skills. I was working and solving problems from the previous night's homework as if it were natural. When my back was turned to the class, I smiled slyly as I thought how every math teacher I had from the seventh grade onward, every College Algebra professor, would absolutely stand there with dropped jaws if they could just see me then. I wished one of the students would have known how to appreciate what they were witnessing and photographed or recorded it to post it on youtube under "Miracle."
I didn't work all the problems though, because the learning process taught me that I must actually work the problems to understand and remember the steps. So after I modeled a few problems, I turned to the class and demanded volunteers. "Come on," I said, "I'll be here every step of the way helping you out." They eagerly came to the board, worked the problems, and explained them back to the class. We had fun. We connected. I loved teaching math!
No worries, though, your children are safe. I'm not changing careers. However, from that math class, I did learn something about teaching: board work is a productive learning tool. It gives the students a chance to apply the skills I want them to learn. But how can I incorporate board work into my English Composition courses?
I am teaching five sections of English Composition this semester. These students are just fresh out of high school, and many of them have not had a proper introduction to the thesis statement. After teaching the narrative essay and what the thesis statement for their narrative essay should incorporate, I looked out at the class only to see scared faces looking back at me. I was frustrated. I didn't know how I would teach them how to write a proper thesis statement before they turned in a paper. I knew if the thesis statement was not formed correctly, the paper risked running a muck along the regions of the lower lands of the grading scale. Call it PTSD or what, but in that brief moment of bewilderment I flashed back to my math class: board work!
I told them that their homework was to carefully review the narrative essay instructions, re-read the narratives that had already been assigned in order to pick out a thesis statement, then they were to write their thesis statements for their own narratives. "Mandatory! Required! For a Grade," I said, using fragments for emphasizes.
The next class meeting, I brought five colored dry-erase markers. I placed them in the tray of the whiteboard. I turned to the class and said, "The first five volunteers get extra participation points if they come up here and write their thesis statement on the board." There was not a mad rush immediately. They looked around at one another until all eyes eventually landed on the students who had been the most vocal. Feeling the pressure, they reluctantly rose from their seats and slinked toward the whiteboard. They wrote. I had them take their seats.
The thesis statement sample was perfect: most were a mess, but there was one that was nearly exemplary. With a marker in hand, I asked the class to lead me through correcting the grammar errors. Then we examined each and every statement -- weighing them against the characteristics of an effective thesis statement and the assignment's purpose. Together, we revised them until they were correct. We compared the revision against the original, compared the bad against the good, until the students understood what exactly makes an effective thesis statement.
I called for five more volunteers for extra participation points. This time, there was a rush to the board. I do this for every paper now. Eventually, even the quiet students sitting along the wall all semester hoping not to be noticed have gotten up too and have written their thesis statements on the board! Teaching win.
Three writing assignments in, and the students have come to expect this peer-like workshop before each paper is due. They love it. So, I've had to adjust the syllabus slightly. But guess what? The thesis statements are getting better! We are having to revise them less and less. Also, I, along with the rest of the class, have discovered writers among us. There are some students who can use wit and puns to whip up a thesis statement revision on demand. They are a strong asset to the class. But the biggest win is seeing students who initially struggled with forming thesis statements really nail it right. They beam with satisfaction. I beam back with pride.
In addition to teaching the thesis statement, this classroom exercise allows me to teach grammar rules, teach punctuation, and model sentence revision. But most of all, it has helped us bond as a classroom community.
So, I suppose I owe my twelfth grade Algebra teacher an apology when, behind her back, I grumbled to my friends, "When will I ever use this stuff as an English teacher or writer?" Not only have I had to use Algebra since then, but I also have learned from the Algebra classroom technique of putting students at the board in order to learn a concept. I also should go the extra-mile, too, and thank my math teachers for such a useful model.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Sunday, April 7, 2013
From Memoirs of a Gladiator: My First Day as a Teacher (2005)
For amusement, the ancient Romans watched gladiators wrestle with lions until the death of one made a victor of the other. Armed with a sword, a gladiator often sought ways to make the battle as bloody as possible for maximum entertainment value. However, the results were not always in the gladiator's favor, which probably evoked much fear. Likewise, when I walked into that college classroom for the first time as a teacher, I totally related to the gladiator's fear, as I realized I, too, was entering into a similar arena where skill and strength were pushed to their limits.
In some cases, gladiators were given a choice of armor and weapons appropriate for the task. If words can be a sword, as stated in chapter six of Ephesians of the New Testament, then certainly I had my weapon of choice. However, my mission was a little different than the ancient gladiator: I was not fighting lions to the death, but trying to instill in a group of college freshman their own sense of power in mastering the written word.
On the first day of class, I was as nervous as one of those Roman gladiators. I feared wrestling with apathetic writers; I feared the students would sense my feelings of inadequacy just as lions smell the fear of their prey. Despite the fear, however, I was anxious to enter that arena.
With syllabus in hand, I paused outside the door of my English composition class; all was quiet within the room. I almost had rather them been shouting to one another in Greek and up dancing to their ipods in true Dionysian form -- that way I could slip in unnoticed. The silence indicated to me that all eyes were watching for me, as they waited to get the first glimpse of their dreaded composition teacher. As I remembered the way I had once dreaded the first sight of my composition teacher, I felt as conspicuous as a centaur and as threatening as a giant Cyclops.
Torture -- the students were expecting mild to extreme torture in the form of writing, lots of writing that would be returned dripping with red ink. With that thought, I inhaled deeply to summon enough bravado to the surface and entered the arena with all the forced courage of a gladiator. I was determined to win this crowd over, even as I wrestled with those classroom challenges that would present themselves to me.
Head high and shoulders back, I walked into the classroom. However, when I looked at the class and actually examined each individual, my knees wobbled as my confidence waned. The majority of the class was so young that their youth made me feel the burden of my responsibility. THIS is where it is all learned, I thought, as I reflected upon my own undergraduate experience that was lacking in some areas, but served as the starting point of my learning curve. As I looked at each individual, my eyes met those of a young woman who looked as scared as I felt: her eyes were as wide open as her lids would stretch; her mouth, though slightly opened, curved down so that she looked much like a pensive fish intent on swimming away from a great white shark. I smiled. She did not.
I felt somewhat confident that I was prepared to teach this course. I had read George Hillocks Teaching Writing as a Reflective Practice and James Williams' Preparing to Teach Writing: Research, Theory, and Practice. The books, however, proved to be a false sense of security. I quickly learned that workshops bring about their own challenges that require a skilled instructor to make the workshops effective. I realized quickly that coaching was not taming those classroom "lions" (apathy, lack of skill, etc...) as I had hoped. Glazed eyes and blatant text messaging could not have shamed me more than booing shamed a gladiator in the arena. I needed a new approach, a new game plan, if I wanted to reach these students and help them develop their writing enough to withstand four years of college.
It's been eight years since that first experience. I have since learned a few "show tricks" that engage my students in the course materials, and I will share those experiences and lesson plans.
Here are some materials that may help get rid of those first year jitters:
Tips for first-time college teachers
Most Excellent Tips for Teachers
Teaching First Year College Students
Check out this journal at your campus library
In some cases, gladiators were given a choice of armor and weapons appropriate for the task. If words can be a sword, as stated in chapter six of Ephesians of the New Testament, then certainly I had my weapon of choice. However, my mission was a little different than the ancient gladiator: I was not fighting lions to the death, but trying to instill in a group of college freshman their own sense of power in mastering the written word.
On the first day of class, I was as nervous as one of those Roman gladiators. I feared wrestling with apathetic writers; I feared the students would sense my feelings of inadequacy just as lions smell the fear of their prey. Despite the fear, however, I was anxious to enter that arena.
With syllabus in hand, I paused outside the door of my English composition class; all was quiet within the room. I almost had rather them been shouting to one another in Greek and up dancing to their ipods in true Dionysian form -- that way I could slip in unnoticed. The silence indicated to me that all eyes were watching for me, as they waited to get the first glimpse of their dreaded composition teacher. As I remembered the way I had once dreaded the first sight of my composition teacher, I felt as conspicuous as a centaur and as threatening as a giant Cyclops.
Torture -- the students were expecting mild to extreme torture in the form of writing, lots of writing that would be returned dripping with red ink. With that thought, I inhaled deeply to summon enough bravado to the surface and entered the arena with all the forced courage of a gladiator. I was determined to win this crowd over, even as I wrestled with those classroom challenges that would present themselves to me.
Head high and shoulders back, I walked into the classroom. However, when I looked at the class and actually examined each individual, my knees wobbled as my confidence waned. The majority of the class was so young that their youth made me feel the burden of my responsibility. THIS is where it is all learned, I thought, as I reflected upon my own undergraduate experience that was lacking in some areas, but served as the starting point of my learning curve. As I looked at each individual, my eyes met those of a young woman who looked as scared as I felt: her eyes were as wide open as her lids would stretch; her mouth, though slightly opened, curved down so that she looked much like a pensive fish intent on swimming away from a great white shark. I smiled. She did not.
I felt somewhat confident that I was prepared to teach this course. I had read George Hillocks Teaching Writing as a Reflective Practice and James Williams' Preparing to Teach Writing: Research, Theory, and Practice. The books, however, proved to be a false sense of security. I quickly learned that workshops bring about their own challenges that require a skilled instructor to make the workshops effective. I realized quickly that coaching was not taming those classroom "lions" (apathy, lack of skill, etc...) as I had hoped. Glazed eyes and blatant text messaging could not have shamed me more than booing shamed a gladiator in the arena. I needed a new approach, a new game plan, if I wanted to reach these students and help them develop their writing enough to withstand four years of college.
It's been eight years since that first experience. I have since learned a few "show tricks" that engage my students in the course materials, and I will share those experiences and lesson plans.
Here are some materials that may help get rid of those first year jitters:
Tips for first-time college teachers
Most Excellent Tips for Teachers
Teaching First Year College Students
Check out this journal at your campus library
Thursday, April 4, 2013
The Call to Teach
There is no greater calling than that of teaching. In a recent job interview, I was asked what I love the most about my job in academia. I replied, "Teaching." Teaching: because seeing those students progress and develop is rewarding in and of itself. Teaching: because it is my way of giving back to the world, as I help others realize their potential. Then I was asked what I least like about my job. I replied, "Teaching." The interviewers laughed because they knew what I knew: there is nothing more frustrating than having a day or a week or a month or a full semester when no matter what I do, I cannot get through to that student, or sometimes even a whole class. Teachers know all too well about that paradox I pointed to: there is the self-congratulatory pat on the back when a job well-done is recognized and the banging the head against the brick wall while lamenting "What more can I do?"
At the age of ten, I knew I wanted a career in teaching. My fifth grade teacher asked me to tutor another student. So, each day, that student pulled her desk up to mine, and I explained in my ten-year-old language what the assignment said to do, what the teacher wanted us to do, how to work a math problem, or how to understand a story and why. Seeing her progress was satisfying, but seeing the look on her face when she recognized her progress was exhilarating. The pride she felt in herself made me smile. Knowing I had made a small difference in how she felt about herself and liking that I had made a difference allowed me to realize I was a real teacher. Also, she made a difference in my life: I learned to have compassion and patience with others; I learned to love and to serve; I learned my lessons a little better. Since then, I have measured each and every teacher I have ever had against my sense of what a teacher should do: help others come into their potential. Sadly, some have fallen short, even as they issued forth the challenge if "any of you think you can do better, then I'd like to see you try." Well, ____, I accepted your challenge long before you issued it in the twelfth grade, and even as you spoke those words when I was still a child, I knew I would one day try my darnedest to do a better job: to lift up instead of tear down and ridicule, to guide and instruct instead of confuse and leave students wandering and wondering.
No Student Left Behind, to me, does not mean lower the standards, but to elevate the "least than" to their fullest potential so that all can have the opportunity to achieve their life dreams and goals. I teach this concept to my students so that they will take responsibility for their own education. Once students realize what is expected of them, they usually rise to meet those expectations. But I get ahead of myself here in this blog that I want to use as an interactive teaching journal to catalog my experiences as I seek to meet the teaching challenge.
It was eight years ago when I first walked into that college classroom as a teacher with little experience. Originally, I thought I would teach high school, but while in my junior year of college, I fell head-over-heels in love with academia. After writing a critical analysis of D.H. Lawrence's Women in Love, I knew a high school teaching career would not sustain my love for literature or keep my intellect challenged in satisfying ways, as I did not want to censor literary discussions. So, I walked away from the Education K-12 degree track and embraced English as a degree major. Walking into the college classroom as a teacher with only some substitute teaching experience and teaching kids ages 6-18 in church was like jumping off the high dive after the second swimming lesson (something I also did once). It was life-threatening scary.
I had to write about my experience of that first semester teaching for a class that was required of those who were awarded teaching assistantships. (We had to be trained in pedagogical approaches before we were allowed to teach in the college classroom.) At that time, I felt like a gladiator wrestling against mythic forces, and I positioned myself as such in my report that highlighted the various challenges I had to overcome. It is that report that gives this blog its title "Classroom Warrior." Since that report when I visioned myself as a gladiator warrior battling against metaphoric lions, student apathy, and what not, I've grown to envision myself more as a warrior against what is wrong with the world. Thus, the students should be trained to recognize the world's short-comings and seek to address them anyway that they can in order to make a difference. In this way, teachers are warriors against the world, and we are enlisting soldiers to take up the good fight for humanity, even as they realize their potential for their own greatness, whatever their calling may be.
It sounds so incredibly idealistic, right? Well, maybe so. But that idealism is what motivates me to teach and to teach to the best of my capabilities. Perhaps, my outlook will develop into something else down the road, but for now, I'm engaged in a great battle against ignorance, apathy, anti-intellectualism, and the Entitlement Syndrome. I am the Classroom Warrior.
Below are some links for teachers:
Dr. Ren Denton
A Call to Teaching
A film that illustrates the dangers of the current practice of No Child Left Behind
At the age of ten, I knew I wanted a career in teaching. My fifth grade teacher asked me to tutor another student. So, each day, that student pulled her desk up to mine, and I explained in my ten-year-old language what the assignment said to do, what the teacher wanted us to do, how to work a math problem, or how to understand a story and why. Seeing her progress was satisfying, but seeing the look on her face when she recognized her progress was exhilarating. The pride she felt in herself made me smile. Knowing I had made a small difference in how she felt about herself and liking that I had made a difference allowed me to realize I was a real teacher. Also, she made a difference in my life: I learned to have compassion and patience with others; I learned to love and to serve; I learned my lessons a little better. Since then, I have measured each and every teacher I have ever had against my sense of what a teacher should do: help others come into their potential. Sadly, some have fallen short, even as they issued forth the challenge if "any of you think you can do better, then I'd like to see you try." Well, ____, I accepted your challenge long before you issued it in the twelfth grade, and even as you spoke those words when I was still a child, I knew I would one day try my darnedest to do a better job: to lift up instead of tear down and ridicule, to guide and instruct instead of confuse and leave students wandering and wondering.
No Student Left Behind, to me, does not mean lower the standards, but to elevate the "least than" to their fullest potential so that all can have the opportunity to achieve their life dreams and goals. I teach this concept to my students so that they will take responsibility for their own education. Once students realize what is expected of them, they usually rise to meet those expectations. But I get ahead of myself here in this blog that I want to use as an interactive teaching journal to catalog my experiences as I seek to meet the teaching challenge.
It was eight years ago when I first walked into that college classroom as a teacher with little experience. Originally, I thought I would teach high school, but while in my junior year of college, I fell head-over-heels in love with academia. After writing a critical analysis of D.H. Lawrence's Women in Love, I knew a high school teaching career would not sustain my love for literature or keep my intellect challenged in satisfying ways, as I did not want to censor literary discussions. So, I walked away from the Education K-12 degree track and embraced English as a degree major. Walking into the college classroom as a teacher with only some substitute teaching experience and teaching kids ages 6-18 in church was like jumping off the high dive after the second swimming lesson (something I also did once). It was life-threatening scary.
I had to write about my experience of that first semester teaching for a class that was required of those who were awarded teaching assistantships. (We had to be trained in pedagogical approaches before we were allowed to teach in the college classroom.) At that time, I felt like a gladiator wrestling against mythic forces, and I positioned myself as such in my report that highlighted the various challenges I had to overcome. It is that report that gives this blog its title "Classroom Warrior." Since that report when I visioned myself as a gladiator warrior battling against metaphoric lions, student apathy, and what not, I've grown to envision myself more as a warrior against what is wrong with the world. Thus, the students should be trained to recognize the world's short-comings and seek to address them anyway that they can in order to make a difference. In this way, teachers are warriors against the world, and we are enlisting soldiers to take up the good fight for humanity, even as they realize their potential for their own greatness, whatever their calling may be.
It sounds so incredibly idealistic, right? Well, maybe so. But that idealism is what motivates me to teach and to teach to the best of my capabilities. Perhaps, my outlook will develop into something else down the road, but for now, I'm engaged in a great battle against ignorance, apathy, anti-intellectualism, and the Entitlement Syndrome. I am the Classroom Warrior.
Below are some links for teachers:
Dr. Ren Denton
A Call to Teaching
A film that illustrates the dangers of the current practice of No Child Left Behind
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