Can an On-line Course Teach Poetry Slams? A Guest Post by A3 Teacher

This is Part 2 of two posts about online learning by A3 Teacher. Here is Part 1.

Last week I wrote about my experience as a student taking an online course. In my experiences, as both a student and teacher, critical thinking skills are better developed in a traditional classroom.

Many on-line schools would like to give you the idea that you can teach or do (almost) anything virtually that you can do in person. For example, for the past several years, the Michigan Virtual University has hosted a Poetry Slam Contest.  Check out the video below.

Anyone who has been to an Ann Arbor Poetry Slam will be able to clearly see, hear, and feel the difference.  

Screen shot from a Communicator article which featured
the high school poetry slam. Videos are embedded
in the article.

[Editor's Note: I couldn't figure out how to embed any of these videos, BUT if you click on the link you can watch several videos from an Ann Arbor Poetry Slam.]

In this case, I believe that the coaching, mentoring, and collaboration of face-to-face meetings results in a drastic comparison.  This is just one comparison that is an example of the depth of learning and skill-building that can happen in a classroom.  

Classrooms benefit from face-to-face interaction and discussions.  Most private schools in the Ann Arbor area do not offer online classes but instead focus on the development of relationships and cultivating inquiry and deep critical thinking skills.  Some classes are taught “seminar-style” where discussion about topics and texts is in-depth and focuses on critical engagement and theory work.  Programs such as International Baccalaureate build on the concept of mastery through the intense development of discussion, verbal practice, and depth of knowledge. Certain assessments for the IB are audio recorded and sent to other countries for objective assessment.  

I am not yet convinced that online learning has reached the ability to adequately serve even the highest achieving students.

Something different happens in a classroom discussion that cannot be replicated online.  In the on-line class I took, most of the time I spent posting to the online discussion took 5-10 minutes each.  I could also be very selective in what I read (whose posts I read) and which posts I responded to.  In contrast, a Socratic Seminar, or a discussion that pulls in students’ perceptions and opinions, or a real-time discussion that can go on for over an hour is an important skill for students to master (this being said, discussions can also go very poorly without clear parameters or an instructor who knows how to guide students).  

When students engage in sustained reading, writing, and thinking, they develop critical thinking skills that develop true depth and mastery.  A Harvard professor has students spend three hours in an art gallery staring at a painting as part of an assignment.  She states that “Every external pressure, social and technological, is pushing students in the other direction, toward immediacy, rapidity, and spontaneity—and against this other kind of opportunity. I want to give them the permission and the structures to slow down.”  This is crucial.  

When a student spends 45 minutes with a primary document, or 70 minutes discussing a 10-line poem, or 50 minutes debating the ethics of cloning, students learn how to slow down, listen, and think.  This does not mean that discussions won’t get messy (sometimes good discussions have no definite result or a clear decisive outcome), but it means that students will develop deep critical thinking skills that will benefit them in a variety of areas in life.  Students learn impulse control and to consider multiple viewpoints as opposed to seeing the world in a reactionary and simplistic way. 

Something different happens in the human brain when students spend long amounts of time thinking, reading, writing, and listening. These processes - reading, writing, and thinking - go hand in hand. Isn't that what we want?

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Haiku for Schools Monday

As part of the WordCount Blogathon, I've been asked to post a haiku today. Remember the format?
Three lines, and traditionally the first has 5 syllables, the second has 7, the third has 5 again. (Modern haiku sometimes stray from this format.)

I want to make it fun for you too!

First, I've got a haiku from me.

Then, enter your haiku into the form below! I will share them... (And by the way, if they are not about schools or education? That's fine too!)

I tire of posts on 
michigan funding. Prefer

pure michigan fun.

And here are the other haikus that I got: 

Privileged lawmakers
hoard resources so their kids
can always "win"
--Julie

Snyder doesn't get it.
School districts going bankrupt
Come from funding cuts.
--Anonymous

Teachers cost too much
Legislators say cut them
Prefer to fill jails
--Hunter Van Valkenburgh

Filling in bubbles
Sucks away joyful discovery
Just choose C
--Julie

Data-driven laws
But without the data
That's Republicans
--MsDrData

Joel's Ann Arbor Open Graduation Speech: Video and Text

A fortnight ago, Ann Arbor Open held its eighth grade graduation. I alluded to it in this post. My son Joel was one of the speakers. I was very proud of the poem he wrote, and he gave me permission to post it. (Thank you Joel!) Unfortunately, I didn't have a video to post. Now I do. Many thanks to Mark for sending me the video he took. If you have a little trouble hearing it, you can read the poem below the video. A few explanatory notes follow the text.

When I Was In Kindergarten 

By Joel Appel-Kraut 

When I was in kindergarten, we would sit by the bookshelf in the classroom and read. We would read until our heads were swirling with all the 5 letter words we didn’t fully understand. When I was in kindergarten, we would stand in front of the stoplight in Char’s room and yell and scream until it turned red. Because some of us went to safety town, so we knew what that meant. 

When I was in 1st grade, we would bring in stuff on 100s day and the kids whose parents let them bring in marshmallows were instantly cool. On occasion, we would get visits from the only Superhero who ever made time for 6 year-olds. When I was in 1st grade, I would cower under the middle schoolers as my siblings told stories about their cute little brother and his golden angel locks. 

When I was in 2nd grade, we would look down on the lowly first graders as if they were our pets. Unless they were on our team in gym. We would marvel at the fact that the science Olympiad teacher was teaching us science. When I was in 2nd grade, even rock paper scissors could not decide who got pentathlon. 

When I was in 3rd grade, we looked up to our CHS buddies as if they were our future, high-school selves. When we went to West Park, a walk down the block was like a time machine, where we could walk the trails like the native-americans who started them. When I was in 3rd grade. We still didn’t have a good way to decide who got pentathlon. 

When I was in 4th grade, we would think of alliterative names for our friend group like fantastic five, or super six. We would engrave the drama in embarrassing recordings that will not be heard ever again. When I was in fourth grade, the CHS buddies didn’t seem quite as tall. We still all wanted pentathlon. 

When I was in 5th grade, we would stress all week about checking out on Friday. We would protest that Rick Hall should not be able to grade our cursive or spelling. How can you tell me that I spelled George wrong when Doover is not even a word. When I was in 5th grade we would have sweet dreams about burning our cursive sheets in a fiery inferno come November. And we would fight about who got pentathlon. 

When I was in 6th grade, we would shrug off checking out as if it were nothing. By 6th grade, we had learned from experience to stay on Ko’s good side during yearbook time. And it was even somewhat sad when Rick put his doover stamp in my yearbook. When I was in 6th grade, we would have sweet dreams about that time we burned our cursive sheets in a fiery inferno last year. And we would laugh at the 5th graders' petty fights about who should get pentathlon. 

When I was in 7th grade, we would commiserate over how we didn’t get the schedule we wanted. We would meet with Allan even though we knew there was nothing we could do. When I was in 7th grade, we thought it was stupid that the eight graders said they should get first choice for Gardening. 

When I was in 8th grade, we would laugh as the 7th graders looked at their schedule to remember it. We turned lunch basketball games into two person dunk contests. When I was in 8th grade, we wanted to get first choice for gardening. 

When I am in High School, I hope to take the lessons I learned here, and apply them every day. I hope to be successful, largely because of this school. When I am In High School and Beyond I hope to be a role model for future kids standing and giving a speech at their 8th grade graduation. 

When I am 100 years old, I hope to sit around a table on the porch and drink ice tea with my friends, many of whom went to this very school. See, when I am 100, I hope to reminisce about the fun we had, the bonds we made, and the things we learned, when I was in Kindergarten.



*pentathlon=an activity in Science Olympiad (for 2nd-5th graders) that utilizes both scientific principles and basketballs, and requires using the gym.
**doover=do over; pronounced as doo-ver.
**CHS buddies=Community High School buddies, a cross-school program
The first names are names of teachers at Ann Arbor Open.

The Promise of 2013

On the last Sunday in 2012, the New York Times magazine section ran a series of pieces, entitled The Lives They Lived. [It's an interesting and varied series of short pieces, well worth your time.]

When I opened it up, I found the following excerpt from Adrienne Rich's poem, Dreams Before Waking (1983). [Read the full poem here. It's beautiful.]

[Many years ago I worked on a Jewish feminist journal with Adrienne Rich. Read more about Bridges here.]

The excerpt?

What would it mean to live
in a city whose people were changing
each other's despair into hope? --
You yourself must change it. --
what would it feel like to know
your country was changing? --
You yourself must change it. --
Though your life felt arduous
new and unmapped and strange
what would it means to stand on the first
page of the end of despair?

Considering the education legislation that we are likely to face in Michigan in 2013, this seems an apt place to start.


We ourselves must change it.


Don't be a bystander.

Skyline High School and the Shortest Poem in the English Language

At the end of this school year I went to the Skyline "Pinning" Ceremony. The "pinning" ceremony is where honors students get their honors pins. The speaker for the event was a well-loved Skyline teacher--Collin Ganio. I really enjoyed the speech, and I thought you would too. So I contacted Mr. Ganio--who teaches Latin and etymology--and asked for permission to publish it. Permission given!

Permission given, with the caveat that I mention that the story about Ali's speech to the graduating class was originally told by the sportswriter George Plimpton.  He tells it in the film When We Were Kings, and I've put the youtube link (if you want to see Plimpton tell it) at the very bottom of this post.

The Shortest Poem in the English Language

by Collin Ganio

Good evening, everyone.  Those of you who know me know that I love words.  I really do.  I honestly think they’re the most powerful tool humanity has ever created.  Words have started wars, words have ended wars, and—when we’ve gotten really lucky—words have averted wars altogether.  I love it when people use words well.  And whenever I hear someone using words poorly, it makes me throw up in my mouth just a little.  If you know me, you also know I love telling you stories, so here’s one last one for you.

Muhammad Ali—there was an amazing wordsmith.  You know, he struggled with dyslexia, but rhymed with ease.  He composed extemporaneous poetry about his upcoming fights all the time.  One of my favorites: “I done wrestled with an alligator, I done tussled with a whale.  I’ve handcuffed lightning an’ thrown thunder in jail.  Yesterday I murdered a rock, injured a stone, hospitalized a brick.  I’m so mean I make medicine sick.”  There are plenty of others. Just go google ‘em and you can find ‘em easily.

Muhammad Ali bust portrait by Ira Rosenberg. Available from the Library of Congress.

His most thought-provoking poem (for me, at least) is also the shortest poem in the English language.  Harvard had invited him to come speak to their graduating class.  He gave a great speech about how he had not had access to their education, and how the new graduates should take the opportunity that they had been given to go out and change the world.  At the end of his speech, as the applause died down, someone yelled “Give us a poem!”

He looked out at the class of graduating seniors, people very different from him in so many ways.  He gestured to himself and said “Me.”  Then he opened his arms to include all the students and said “WE.”  The crowd went wild.

What a poem!  Two simple pronouns, without even a verb.  Four letters in all.  The first letters of each word are just reflections of one another.  Is the second word the opposite of the first word, or just a reflection of it?  The meaning of this poem is so much greater than the poem itself, when you think about it.

We’re all part of Generation ME—anyone born in the 1970’s, 80’s, or 90’s is a part of this generation—and we’ve been taught largely that the self is the most important thing out there.  “What’s in this for ME?  How does this benefit ME?  What am I going to get out of this?  How is this going to help ME succeed?”  And the internet, which theoretically broadens our social horizons to include a global community, ironically tends to focus on the self—Myspace, Facebook, and Twitter are all, ultimately, in a way, tools for the narcissistic.

With two little words used so simply, Ali suggested that this world might be a happier place if we spent less time thinking about me and more time thinking about we.  I issue the same challenge to you—think less about Myspace and more about Ourspace.  Use your agile minds and big hearts—ask the deep questions—in order to make this world better not just for yourselves, but for everyone around you.  I mean, think about it—if everyone worked to better a community for their fellow citizens, then we might not spend a lot of time working to make our own lives better, but we might not need to, since everyone around us would be doing that for us. 

And wouldn’t that be a hell of a thing?  Thank you.  Good night.

Thank you, Mr. Ganio!

 

Roberto Clemente: It Starts When You Care to Act

By now you have probably heard that Roberto Clemente will stay open for (at least) another year. Over the next year the board will thoroughly evaluate both Roberto Clemente and and Ann Arbor Tech. And that is good news. But that is not the real victory.

The real victory is that a group of students who--for the most part--have never seen the power of community organizing and social action, have now seen how that can make a difference. I was so impressed by the speeches that these kids wrote--and delivered--in front of the school board.

Project-based education research suggests that you need a) meaningful projects; b) hands-on experiences; and c) performance-based presentations. Although this was thrust upon them, this turned out to be a great and meaningful learning experience for those students who decided to participate. Kudos to the parents, teachers/staff, and principal who facilitated this experience (and who spoke up themselves)

I hope that is the lesson these "at-risk" kids take from this. When you see something you want to change, you can advocate, agitate, and organize. And yes, it is worth it. (By the way, sometimes it is worth it even if you feel you will lose.)

From newlabor.org

In their honor, a poem by Marge Piercy: The Low Road.

Poem for a Graduating Senior

Be safe.
Have fun.
Call me.
I love you.



Note: I wrote this last year. I wonder why it took me a year to publish it?

School's Out!

Enjoy your summer, whether you end up juggling soccer balls, lying on a beach, swimming in a Great Lake, hiking a steamy trail, or reading a favorite book.

A Boy Juggling a Soccer Ball
by Christopher Merrill
after practice: right foot to left foot, stepping forward and back, to right foot and left foot, and left foot up to his thigh, holding it on his thigh as he twists around in a circle, until it rolls down the inside of his leg, like a tickle of sweat, not catching and tapping on the soft side of his foot, and juggling once, twice, three times, hopping on one foot like a jump-roper in the gym, now trapping and holding the ball in midair, balancing it on the instep of his weak left foot, stepping forward and forward and back, then lifting it overhead until it hangs there; and squaring off his body, he keeps the ball aloft with a nudge of his neck, heading it from side to side, softer and softer, like a dying refrain, until the ball, slowing, balances itself on his hairline, the hot sun and sweat filling his eyes as he jiggles this way and that, then flicking it up gently, hunching his shoulders and tilting his head back, he traps it in the hollow of his neck, and bending at the waist, sees his shadow, his dangling T-shirt, the bent blades of brown grass in summer heat; and relaxing, the ball slipping down his back. . .and missing his foot. He wheels around, he marches over the ball, as if it were a rock he stumbled into, and pressing his left foot against it, he pushes it against the inside of his right until it pops into the air, is heeled over his head--the rainbow!-- and settles on his extended thigh before rolling over his knee and down his shin, so he can juggle it again from his left foot to his right foot --and right foot to left foot to thigh-- as he wanders, on the last day of summer, around the empty field.

School's Out!

Summertime, and the living is easy... Have a great break!
Read about the Welsh poet W.H. Davies here.

School's Out
Girls scream,
    Boys shout;
Dogs bark,
    School's out.
Cats run,
    Horses shy;
Into trees
    Birds fly.
Babes wake
    Open-eyed;
If they can,
    Tramps hide.
Old man,
    Hobble home;
Merry mites,
    Welcome.

Tiger: The Lighter Side

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
(William Blake, The Tiger)

Headlining a chapter in my daughter's math book is a picture of Tiger Woods. You know, it's the attempt to introduce relevance. As if Tiger sits down with his calculator to analyze the best angles for hitting balls on the golf course.

"Mom," she said. "Look at this picture. I'll bet they wouldn't include that picture if they were writing this textbook now."

I'll bet they wouldn't. Math teachers are just not as interested in angles of repose. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.)

What Work Is: For the Bus Drivers

For the bus drivers, a favorite poem of mine, by Philip Levine.

This one, by Graeme King, is a poem that is a little more fun. It's also for the bus drivers.

Philip Levine, by the way, is a native Michigander (Detroiter) and a Pulitzer-prize winning poet. Graeme King is an Australian poet.

30/30

April is Poetry Month, and some poets--and aspiring poets--that I know have taken on the 30/30 challenge. That is a challenge to write 30 poems in 30 days. That is hard!

I heard about an experiment (I don't know if this is true or apocryphal) where one group of student potters was asked to make 50 cups, and at the end, choose one to represent their work. The other group was asked to each make the perfect cup. Guess which group ended up with the better cups?

Which is to say, that Practice does make--if not Perfect--Improvement.

I've read some of those 30/30 poems. They are not all good, but a few of them are gems.
In honor of poetry month, here is a link to the Academy of American Poets web site, poets.org. Treat yourself, and read a couple of poems today. (Or--write some!)
We have some excellent local poets. Take a look at the work of Keith Taylor or Thylias Moss.

And in May, we've got 31/31.

To the Waters and the Wild

What was the first poem that you remember memorizing? I probably learned Robert Louis Stevenson's My Shadow first, but the one I remember reciting was his poem The Cow. I was in third grade.

The friendly cow all red and white
I love with all my heart.

We are not asked to memorize, or recite, very much any more. It's an art, and it's good practice for--something--our brains, or our hearts?

My son had to memorize, and recite, a poem this past month. He enjoyed it. He came home commenting on how much he liked the poem another child had memorized. "And it was really long," he said--indirectly praising his classmate's performance.

The poem? The Stolen Child by W.B. Yeats.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Do you think the kids all understood it? Does it matter?

In tenth grade, my teacher required us to choose one of two sonnets to memorize. I thought they were both really hard to learn, and I didn't understand either one, so I chose the one that seemed slightly easier. The road not taken--the poem I didn't learn--was Ozymandias, by Percy Bysshe Shelley. [I didn't learn it, but I still remember which poem it was.]

The one I did learn, but I didn't understand, was William Wordsworth's The World Is Too Much With Us. I didn't understand it then, but now? Now, it speaks to me.

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

 Do you have a favorite poem? One that speaks to you?

Playfulness

Play-ful-ness: Noun
Play-ful: Adjective: per Merriam-Webster, frolicsome or sportive; humorous or jocular
Play-ful-ly: Adverb
Play: Verb. A very old verb, dating from the 13th century.

I've been blogging about some serious topics lately. In this post at annarbor.com, Kass (Pioneer High School teacher and advisor to the Neutral Zone poetry collaborative) makes the point that playfulness in teaching goes a long way. [And he also tells you about an interesting upcoming poetry event, Monday evening November 28th at the Neutral Zone.]

He's right! Playfulness in blogging probably goes a long way too, so here is the knock knock joke my nephew told me the other day:

Nephew: Knock knock
Me: Who's there?
Nephew: You are there!
Comment of my niece, who texted me the whole thing: I don't get it either.

Poetry Redux

On a recent morning, I was listening to NPR, a piece from Planet Money on Recession Haiku.

My nine-year-old says to me, after listening to the poems, "Those aren't haikus. Those are sen-ree-yus." (Spelling: senryu.)
"What?" I say.
"Haikus are about nature. Senryus are like haikus, only not about nature."
(OK, it is slightly more complicated that that, but just slightly.)
"Do you think I should let NPR know?" I say.

I'm not telling you this to boast about my smart child (although of course I think that all my children are above average:). I'm praising the smart teaching that taught him this. And did I mention that that poetry unit was taught by a parent who loves poetry?

A Tale of Two Poetry Units

Recently, two of my kids completed poetry units.

In one unit, the students read a lot of poetry, and they had a lot of poetry read to them. Sophisticated poetry. T.S. Eliot. William Shakespeare. William Blake. e.e. cummings. Gwendolyn Brooks. William Carlos Williams. From books, and from sheets the teacher copied. They learned about meter, rhyme schemes, odes and sonnets. They wrote lots of poetry, including a sonnet. They performed their poetry.

In the other unit, the students had to go to several poetry web sites. They had to read poetry online to find 4 favorite poems. They had to write reactions, and type them on google docs. There was a small amount of class discussion. They had to listen to audio. They had to write one or two poems.

Both of these kids enjoy poetry, both reading and writing it. The one who had the first unit was affirmed in loving poetry; the one with the second unit was completely turned off (despite getting an A on the unit--and that's not really the point, is it?).

I use computers all the time. Obviously, I'm writing on one now. But they are a tool, and they are not a good tool for everything. I was, and am, completely perplexed by the idea that "browsing" for poetry on a web site is useful unless you know what you are looking for. [Are you looking for the Dylan Thomas poem that has the line The force that through the green fuse drives the flower? A web search could be the ticket. But if you are just browsing for poetry? No way.] In the first place, as my own child pointed out to me, poetry web sites are not organized for browsing. They're indexed (by author's name, by topic area, maybe by first line) but they are hard to browse when you don't know what you are looking for or even what you like. In the second place, we don't read on the web the way that we do books. At least, I don't, and I think most people don't. I tend to be a skimmer anyway, and the web speeds that up for me. Poetry is full of nuance, and to get that nuance, you need to read slowly. Which is why, for me, poetry (which I love) is challenging. On the web, is a student more likely to understand William Blake's Songs of Innocence and Experience or Emily Dickinson's I'm Nobody! Who are you? Even though I feel pretty sure that most high school students would like, and understand, both of them, I also feel pretty sure that--online--I'm Nobody! Who are you? is much more accessible.

There is a better way--bring in BOOKS for students to browse through and discuss, to choose "favorite" poems. It's ok to require students to type their work, and once a favorite poem has been discovered, audio might be best accessed on the web. But for r-e-a-d-i-n-g p-o-e-t-r-y? BOOKS are the way to go. And not only that, but the Ann Arbor library has an excellent selection.

I sometimes think that now that teachers have technology, they think that every assignment should use technology. Of course that is absurd, and I hope they come to their senses soon! I am not at all sure that the technology my kids use makes their papers better than they would be without them--although their papers are probably neater.

The big question for me--do I approach the teacher of the second unit, and share my thoughts? Note that I have not spoken to him yet about anything yet this year. I hate to come off too critically, but--English education and curriculum development is something I have a lot of training in, and--I really hate it when a student who loves a subject is completely turned off by it due to the way it is taught.

Interesting News of the Week

First, let's start with the comprehensive series by David Jesse for the Ann Arbor News, on the trials and tribulations of the Willow Run Schools. I have to say that when I saw last week's Willow Run school closing proposals (close two schools and reopen one that was closed before, or close one this year and one the next)--neither of them made any sense to me. Why reopen an already-closed school? And if you are going to close two schools in the end, why not just get it over and done with? And the Willow Run school board is obviously still not ready to make a decision. I guess if they delay long enough, there will be some new school board members. And one of the more interesting rumors that I have heard (I emphasize the word rumor here), is that some people would like it if the state takes over with a finance manager (like the Detroit Public Schools situation), because that will allow someone else to make the hard decisions.

Second, the Ann Arbor Chronicle summarized the League of Women Voters discussion session with prospective board members (the election is not contested, so I think I wouldn't call it a debate...). I got this little tidbit out of it: Liz Margolis, the AAPS PR person, is setting up a communications committee.

Glenn Nelson: Liz Margolis, AAPS director of communications, is putting together a group to strategize about communication issues, Nelson said. He gave out her phone number – 734.994.2236 – and urged people to contact her if they are interested in getting involved.

Call if you would like to be on it (or try her email, margolis@aaps.k12.mi.us) , and perhaps help improve the AAPS web site. (Hope springs eternal, anyway.) I'm not sure why this committee is not publicized on the web site.

Third, apparently AAPS has an "Options" program geared toward attracting homeschoolers and people who want to take online courses into the AAPS system. Here's the link. The program is open to anyone in the Washtenaw ISD district. This seems like a back door way into Schools of Choice. I have to find out about the funding flow for this. Typically in Schools of Choice the person coming in brings in whatever their district's per-pupil funding is. Since AAPS has higher per-pupil funding than any other district in the county, it is a disincentive for AAPS to open up the district to choice students. Either this funding mechanism works differently, or it is just that online courses are much cheaper to operate, so it is still a net profit. [If you know, please comment.]

Last, but not least, Jeff Kass is doing something really fun and interesting (if you are into poetry and/or theater). Wrestling the Great Fear: A Performance Poetica, will be performed on Wednesday, April 29 at 7 p.m. at the Lydia Mendelssohn Theater in the Michigan League, 911 N. University Ave., Ann Arbor. Admission is $5. To reserve tickets or for more information, call (734) 223-7443 or email Jeff Kass at eyelev21@aol.com. Go if you can.

P.S. Take my poll, just open for a few more days, on the right hand side of the screen.