Thought this bench-cicle looked cool. HAHAHAHA!
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Friday, February 27, 2015
Monday, February 23, 2015
Oh my
My roommate really likes this comic.
My roommate does not like this comic.
This comic is about how when you have an idea, or an insight, or inspiration---the information that you get in that moment is so much greater and happens so much faster than your ability to describe it in words.
And it was going to be about how the reason for that is that "new" information is actually new connections between the massive amounts of information you already have. Like everything you know about gators and everything you know about babies being connected and each of those things makes you completely reevaluate the other. That's what cool learning is.
And it was going to be about how the reason for that is that "new" information is actually new connections between the massive amounts of information you already have. Like everything you know about gators and everything you know about babies being connected and each of those things makes you completely reevaluate the other. That's what cool learning is.
The first comic was supposed to be a bad example of learning. Where there's new information but it doesn't really tap into information you already have. You don't rethink anything you already know.
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But all of that feels like it sucked the joy completely out of a guy punching himself in the face.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Ire of Grain
Hope this is readable.
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Tried my hand at making a comic in 5 minutes. Truthfully, made the first two panels in 4 minutes and then had to take 5 more minutes to think of the closing panel.
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I think 'Farmer Vengeance' represents the side of me that gets freaked out by how much I, and the people around me my age, and I guess most people, consume. Not just food. Everything.
Mostly it's the word binge that I don't like. I really hate the word binge being applied to anything other than a genuine disorder. The tone is upsetting.
You should never 'gravity feed' yourself anything. Especially President Cereal.
Mostly it's the word binge that I don't like. I really hate the word binge being applied to anything other than a genuine disorder. The tone is upsetting.
You should never 'gravity feed' yourself anything. Especially President Cereal.
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Friday, February 20, 2015
Weird Squids: Radical Literalism
Noted comics genius man and book-writer Scott McCloud says that there are different ways that words and pictures can interact within a panel.
One of these combinations is known as "duo-specific" and it's where the words and pictures are basically giving you the same information.
Example: The ten smiling squids are floating around--all facing the same direction.
And, the way McCloud describes it, it seems like this is the worst kind of combination to have. McCloud states it can appear needlessly redundant or is more appropriate for "info-comics" that explain to someone to use the stairs when the building is on fire or that it can be used to convey an antiquated or children's book tone.
It's the one kind of combination that indicates, through its very presence, a kind of un-modernity. If it's telling a story at all, it's the kind of story that isn't intended for modern, mature readers.
Mmmm....that seems just unique enough to make it....THE MOST RADICAL, MODERN COMBINATION OF ALL!
From here on out, This blog will only practice radical literalism! Word and image will be constrained by one another to create panels so opaque, concrete, and literal that the reader will be forced to look at the work and see THIS IS WHAT THIS IS! THIS IS ITS NAME! THIS IS WHAT THIS IS! THIS IS ITS NAME! The most powerful, simple and direct means of communication lost to the tide of irony, sarcasm, double entendre, slang, idioms, all the smoke and masks and sleights we employ through the creeping ceaseless narrative that frames our own experience at the center of the entire universe. That everything is mediated by our experience of it and it is our duty--or compulsion-- to tint that experience with our emotional, ideological reaction. No more! See and name! See and name!
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
People from a video who didn't know what to say
A weird knight on a weird horse fights a weird knight.
Begin Rant about Writing Instruction
So, if you head down to your local high school and talk to some of the teachers in the English hallway, there's a decent chance that you'll hear something along the lines of "these kids today can't write."
First of all, ignoring the fact that the whole purpose of an educator is to give people the ability to write, you know, to teach them to do things they can't do--a teacher who complains about kids in need of instruction is like a mechanic complaining in the garage 'ALL THESE CARS ARE BROKEN!"--ignoring that, I don't think these teachers are lying or necessarily wrong, I just think they rarely finish their sentences.
"These kids today can't write in the very specific, unnatural, rule-driven writing style that we demand they write in without providing any reasons for WHY they should be writing like this except for a standardized test and the belief we perpetuate that this is all there is to writing."
Yeah, kids today can't write like that. They're smart.
An analogy: writing is an expression of thought and running is an expression of movement.
So, here is how I imagine writing is taught by educators who believe that children can't learn as explained by running.
Let's say you looked at the best, fastest runners in the world for 400 meters. The unforgiving one-lap race. And you watched their fastest races and studied the footage day and night and compiled a list of all the things these runners do.
You might get a list like:
-lands on balls of the feet
-long stride length
-great hip extension
-stable core
-arms swing freely, forward and back--no side to side motion
-no head movement
-drives knee directly up with leg bent at 90 degree angle
-lands with foot directly under center of mass
-on back kick, snaps foot up--almost touching the butt
So, really great logic, right? You're an expert now. You looked at all the features that all the great runners have and you labeled them and now you know exactly what to teach young runners.
You round up about 30 high schoolers and have them meet on the track and you pass out diagrams and show them videos on your laptop and go through each phase of the running cycle and you explain it crystal clear so that each student has a perfect image in their head of what the ultimate 400 meter runner should look like.
And you line 8 kids up on the starting line and you say,
"Are you ready to kill it?!"
And they say, "YEAH!"
And you yell, "GO!"
And they take off as fast as they can and within 100 meters you are screaming "NO! NO! NO! NO! GET BACK OVER HERE!" And you stop them right there because they are clearly doing this all wrong.
-some of these kids are landing on their heels
-some of them have little chicken strides while others are loping monstrosities
-they can barely drive their knees up to waist level
-their core is collapsing as they wobble around the turn
-the arms are swinging more side to side than up-and-down
-the head is flip flopping around and around like a ball of yarn duct-taped to something hilarious
-on the back kick--their feet are splaying out to the side and yet barely getting off the ground!
To make matters worse: their form seems to somehow be deteriorating as they go! How could it go from bad to awful in the span of 30 seconds!
As Milton wrote:
And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep, Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide; To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven
Clearly there must be a problem, right? The kids have failed by EVERY MEASURE of good running! Maybe that first 8 was just a bad batch. You go through your whole speech again. You point out all the things the kids were doing wrong. Now they'll be able to compare what they did to what they should do. This next 8 will be perfect.
"Are you ready to kill it for real this time?!"
"YEAH FOR REAL!"
And you yell, "GO!"
And this group is somehow even worse than the first. You stop them 50 meters in because it is clear that something is deeply deeply wrong with these kids.
You line up the next 8--and it's awful piled atop horrible. You choke back the vomit and tears that have almost escaped you and line up the last 6. By the time these last 6 kids have hit the 200, you're already in your car and driving home.
What a horrible horrible day for the sport of track and field. Not a single child out of 30 could display running in any measurable way.
You crawl into bed and fall into a wild, vinegary, nightmare-ridden sleep. The next morning, as you claw your way out of bed and stare directly into the rising sun--you are struck with a vision! Inspiration! Epiphany!
Let's. get back. to basics.
The solution is clear. The act of running is made up of many individual acts. To ask students to run at full speed is too complex of a task. We have to break it down.
You chug a gallon of scalding hot coffee and are hard at work for the rest of the day--chunking and dividing running into motions so simple that anyone can do them.
The kids are surprised to see you in good spirits that afternoon. You've lost 10 already but that was to be expected. Not everyone can be a runner.
You apologize profusely to the kids and explain the new direction of the training plan. Instead of trying to run perfectly right away--the team will build up to a full running stride. The name of the game is
DRILLS, LUNGES, STRETCHES, AND STRENGTHENING!
Drive that knee forward! Stabilize those abs! Stretch those hips! Repeat! Repeat! Repeat! Once the kids can do all of these drills, stretches, lunges, and exercises perfectly--they'll be ready to take on the world.
For the sake of brevity in this already over-long post, I'm going to say that all of these "basics" are really boring and tiring and difficult and provide almost no satisfaction. And the kids are just as bad at these and uncoordinated and unmotivated and frustrated and confused.
How can that be possible? We made everything as simple as can be!
Conclusion: kids today are simply unable to run. Not only that, they can't even begin to try to run. Hopeless. Only the most talented and gifted and exceptional can participate in this sport.
NOTE: Stepping out of analogy. This is actually what many teachers believe kids need and this is frequently the conclusion they draw. THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING!
Let's fast forward a few weeks to the first local track meet and the one angry child who is still left on your team gets dead last in the 400 and he hasn't improved a bit since day one and you can't make eye contact with him or anyone else.
But then you hear...cheering? Laughter? Feelings of accomplishment? You look up and see a coach giving high fives to his athletes who just ran in the same race. How did this guy make all those drills and basics fun and enjoyable?
You approach him and ask how he gets kids excited about the drudgery and the grind.
He says, "Well, they seem to like racing each other and running around the field so we just do a lot of that and then they get faster for some reason."
End of analogy.
Running is movement. Writing is thought. The technique of the best runners is a product of their movement. Not the other way around. Removing movement from running to focus on technique is hollow. Removing thought from writing to focus on grammar and format is pointless.
In the same way that beginning runners can't always keep their stride smooth or keep their head from moving or keep their arms from going side to side, beginning writers can't always write in complete sentences or punctuate or spell every word correctly. And they definitely struggle to tell you about this process.
But the form of great writers is driven by the clarity of their thought. The rules come from the process--the rules don't drive the process. It would be stupid to stop a runner from running the second that their form falters. So why is not stupid that we think students can't write because they can't produce that single perfect stride? That's not how the process works. It doesn't go 'one perfect stride becomes two perfect strides becomes three and four and so on until you can finish the race.'
It's a bunch of ugly races that gradually become better races that become faster races that lead to a stronger runner with more efficient movements (better form). The race isn't the end goal. It's part of the process that refines itself. Going back to basics misrepresents the progression of excellence.
Anyone can move. Anyone can think. = Anyone can run. Anyone can write.
But you have to know what drives these expressions. And yeah, some people are lazy. They don't want to move. They don't want to think. That happens. It's happening now, it will happen in the future and it definitely happened all throughout history. But thinking and moving have inherent rewards. They must! I believe they are driven by real human urges. So work with that.
Don't confuse the "rules" with "the habits of the best" and marvel at the fact that students can't imitate the best people to undertake that activity on their first try. Look at what students can do and get them to do more of it. Because writing and running really do improve naturally from doing them.
That's all I have to say about that. More pictures to come today.
First of all, ignoring the fact that the whole purpose of an educator is to give people the ability to write, you know, to teach them to do things they can't do--a teacher who complains about kids in need of instruction is like a mechanic complaining in the garage 'ALL THESE CARS ARE BROKEN!"--ignoring that, I don't think these teachers are lying or necessarily wrong, I just think they rarely finish their sentences.
"These kids today can't write in the very specific, unnatural, rule-driven writing style that we demand they write in without providing any reasons for WHY they should be writing like this except for a standardized test and the belief we perpetuate that this is all there is to writing."
Yeah, kids today can't write like that. They're smart.
An analogy: writing is an expression of thought and running is an expression of movement.
So, here is how I imagine writing is taught by educators who believe that children can't learn as explained by running.
Let's say you looked at the best, fastest runners in the world for 400 meters. The unforgiving one-lap race. And you watched their fastest races and studied the footage day and night and compiled a list of all the things these runners do.
You might get a list like:
-lands on balls of the feet
-long stride length
-great hip extension
-stable core
-arms swing freely, forward and back--no side to side motion
-no head movement
-drives knee directly up with leg bent at 90 degree angle
-lands with foot directly under center of mass
-on back kick, snaps foot up--almost touching the butt
So, really great logic, right? You're an expert now. You looked at all the features that all the great runners have and you labeled them and now you know exactly what to teach young runners.
You round up about 30 high schoolers and have them meet on the track and you pass out diagrams and show them videos on your laptop and go through each phase of the running cycle and you explain it crystal clear so that each student has a perfect image in their head of what the ultimate 400 meter runner should look like.
And you line 8 kids up on the starting line and you say,
"Are you ready to kill it?!"
And they say, "YEAH!"
And you yell, "GO!"
And they take off as fast as they can and within 100 meters you are screaming "NO! NO! NO! NO! GET BACK OVER HERE!" And you stop them right there because they are clearly doing this all wrong.
-some of these kids are landing on their heels
-some of them have little chicken strides while others are loping monstrosities
-they can barely drive their knees up to waist level
-their core is collapsing as they wobble around the turn
-the arms are swinging more side to side than up-and-down
-the head is flip flopping around and around like a ball of yarn duct-taped to something hilarious
-on the back kick--their feet are splaying out to the side and yet barely getting off the ground!
To make matters worse: their form seems to somehow be deteriorating as they go! How could it go from bad to awful in the span of 30 seconds!
As Milton wrote:
And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep, Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide; To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven
Clearly there must be a problem, right? The kids have failed by EVERY MEASURE of good running! Maybe that first 8 was just a bad batch. You go through your whole speech again. You point out all the things the kids were doing wrong. Now they'll be able to compare what they did to what they should do. This next 8 will be perfect.
"Are you ready to kill it for real this time?!"
"YEAH FOR REAL!"
And you yell, "GO!"
And this group is somehow even worse than the first. You stop them 50 meters in because it is clear that something is deeply deeply wrong with these kids.
You line up the next 8--and it's awful piled atop horrible. You choke back the vomit and tears that have almost escaped you and line up the last 6. By the time these last 6 kids have hit the 200, you're already in your car and driving home.
What a horrible horrible day for the sport of track and field. Not a single child out of 30 could display running in any measurable way.
You crawl into bed and fall into a wild, vinegary, nightmare-ridden sleep. The next morning, as you claw your way out of bed and stare directly into the rising sun--you are struck with a vision! Inspiration! Epiphany!
Let's. get back. to basics.
The solution is clear. The act of running is made up of many individual acts. To ask students to run at full speed is too complex of a task. We have to break it down.
You chug a gallon of scalding hot coffee and are hard at work for the rest of the day--chunking and dividing running into motions so simple that anyone can do them.
The kids are surprised to see you in good spirits that afternoon. You've lost 10 already but that was to be expected. Not everyone can be a runner.
You apologize profusely to the kids and explain the new direction of the training plan. Instead of trying to run perfectly right away--the team will build up to a full running stride. The name of the game is
DRILLS, LUNGES, STRETCHES, AND STRENGTHENING!
Drive that knee forward! Stabilize those abs! Stretch those hips! Repeat! Repeat! Repeat! Once the kids can do all of these drills, stretches, lunges, and exercises perfectly--they'll be ready to take on the world.
For the sake of brevity in this already over-long post, I'm going to say that all of these "basics" are really boring and tiring and difficult and provide almost no satisfaction. And the kids are just as bad at these and uncoordinated and unmotivated and frustrated and confused.
How can that be possible? We made everything as simple as can be!
Conclusion: kids today are simply unable to run. Not only that, they can't even begin to try to run. Hopeless. Only the most talented and gifted and exceptional can participate in this sport.
NOTE: Stepping out of analogy. This is actually what many teachers believe kids need and this is frequently the conclusion they draw. THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING!
Let's fast forward a few weeks to the first local track meet and the one angry child who is still left on your team gets dead last in the 400 and he hasn't improved a bit since day one and you can't make eye contact with him or anyone else.
But then you hear...cheering? Laughter? Feelings of accomplishment? You look up and see a coach giving high fives to his athletes who just ran in the same race. How did this guy make all those drills and basics fun and enjoyable?
You approach him and ask how he gets kids excited about the drudgery and the grind.
He says, "Well, they seem to like racing each other and running around the field so we just do a lot of that and then they get faster for some reason."
End of analogy.
Running is movement. Writing is thought. The technique of the best runners is a product of their movement. Not the other way around. Removing movement from running to focus on technique is hollow. Removing thought from writing to focus on grammar and format is pointless.
In the same way that beginning runners can't always keep their stride smooth or keep their head from moving or keep their arms from going side to side, beginning writers can't always write in complete sentences or punctuate or spell every word correctly. And they definitely struggle to tell you about this process.
But the form of great writers is driven by the clarity of their thought. The rules come from the process--the rules don't drive the process. It would be stupid to stop a runner from running the second that their form falters. So why is not stupid that we think students can't write because they can't produce that single perfect stride? That's not how the process works. It doesn't go 'one perfect stride becomes two perfect strides becomes three and four and so on until you can finish the race.'
It's a bunch of ugly races that gradually become better races that become faster races that lead to a stronger runner with more efficient movements (better form). The race isn't the end goal. It's part of the process that refines itself. Going back to basics misrepresents the progression of excellence.
Anyone can move. Anyone can think. = Anyone can run. Anyone can write.
But you have to know what drives these expressions. And yeah, some people are lazy. They don't want to move. They don't want to think. That happens. It's happening now, it will happen in the future and it definitely happened all throughout history. But thinking and moving have inherent rewards. They must! I believe they are driven by real human urges. So work with that.
Don't confuse the "rules" with "the habits of the best" and marvel at the fact that students can't imitate the best people to undertake that activity on their first try. Look at what students can do and get them to do more of it. Because writing and running really do improve naturally from doing them.
That's all I have to say about that. More pictures to come today.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Trying to Figure Out this Whole Teacher Thing
You know what's really weird to me? The idea of making and enforcing a set of rules. That's really strange. Even after working with kids, the responsibility or power of telling people how I want them to behave is foreign. I can't say I know what's best for everyone. And it just feels like a strange, unnatural thing to do. Who decided I get to make the rules?
Well, I guess the school did. And I did. And students more or less give me their implicit consent to be governed in the name of teaching them about English. Or because I'm older than them and frequently wear ties and slacks.
Well, I guess the school did. And I did. And students more or less give me their implicit consent to be governed in the name of teaching them about English. Or because I'm older than them and frequently wear ties and slacks.
I'm writing this because I'm still uncomfortable with it. Will people listen to this? Will they laugh at me? Will they ignore it? Will they be mad?
Maybe some will. But I think most students trust me as a figure of authority. And most (if not all) students don't enjoy a class that is chaotic with a frustrated teacher. And the purpose of these rules is to establish a culture that is conducive to doing cool English stuff. Because English stuff is cool. I think. That's my part of it. Along with following the rules I set for myself, I have to first make students willing participants before I manage their participation.
But I think the biggest reason to have this, and print it out, and give it to each student, and go over it with them, and remind them of it all the time, and try to ingrain it into their minds to the point that they accept it as the reality of the classroom and not a construction of my own devising (slightly nefarious): is that the alternative really really stinks.
Maybe some will. But I think most students trust me as a figure of authority. And most (if not all) students don't enjoy a class that is chaotic with a frustrated teacher. And the purpose of these rules is to establish a culture that is conducive to doing cool English stuff. Because English stuff is cool. I think. That's my part of it. Along with following the rules I set for myself, I have to first make students willing participants before I manage their participation.
But I think the biggest reason to have this, and print it out, and give it to each student, and go over it with them, and remind them of it all the time, and try to ingrain it into their minds to the point that they accept it as the reality of the classroom and not a construction of my own devising (slightly nefarious): is that the alternative really really stinks.
The alternative is that I have to assert, by my own force of will and presence, that I am the alpha. And that justice and fairness begins and ends with my ability to intimidate and hold power over my subjects.
So what does that mean? That means that my reaction to student behavior is more or less dependent on my mood in that moment. It means that my means of enforcing the rules is intimidation and coercion. I have to yell, I have to show I'm bigger, and mean and scary and powerful. And it sets an example that that is the method of holding power in the class. So what will a defiant student do? Lash out, be bigger, be louder, be more obnoxious. I can't and won't do that.
What it really comes down to is being like my supervisor, Richard. He never yelled. He never intimidated. He stuck to the rules. He discussed the rules. He framed discipline in the context of the rules. Which benefit everyone. Not just him. He was just being fair.
And so I guess the trick is two-fold:
What it really comes down to is being like my supervisor, Richard. He never yelled. He never intimidated. He stuck to the rules. He discussed the rules. He framed discipline in the context of the rules. Which benefit everyone. Not just him. He was just being fair.
And so I guess the trick is two-fold:
1) Internalize these rules for myself so that I see actions (my own and my students') in these terms.
2) Make students believe that these aren't just things I came up with for an assignment and typed into a document this morning.
Culture. Making culture. Being authority. Really weird. It's the worst form of government except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.
Culture. Making culture. Being authority. Really weird. It's the worst form of government except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
People from Real Life?
Some of these people came to talk to us in teacher school today. Also, drawing legs from a seated straight-on perspective is weird.
I think, if this blog has done anything, it's helped me write about what I feel like are truths. To me. At the time. But, I think it's a very different thing to actually say them to people. It's fun. And I offer them as arguments, not as indoctrination or anything evil, but it's very different when you're trying to talk about the importance of love or writing or thinking and the words are coming out of your mouth in the moment.
But I think if you're not doing that, if you're not trying to touch on truths or big ideas or get your students to express big ideas, all the bits and pieces won't really stick.
So, in conclusion: big ideas. Practice saying them out loud and meaning them. And they're debatable. Obviously. "Conflicts with no easy answer" as I told a bunch of 9th graders about Romeo and Juliet.
But I think if you're not doing that, if you're not trying to touch on truths or big ideas or get your students to express big ideas, all the bits and pieces won't really stick.
So, in conclusion: big ideas. Practice saying them out loud and meaning them. And they're debatable. Obviously. "Conflicts with no easy answer" as I told a bunch of 9th graders about Romeo and Juliet.
Also, don't yell at your students. Unless you want to do a lot more yelling. But I don't think yelling will make the need to yell go away. Yelling cannot drive out yelling. Only respect can do that. Martin Luther King never said that.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Evaluative Thinking Told as the Story of the Progression of the Kung-Fu Master
So, in my limited exposure to education, both in teacher school and in an actual student school, it seems like a person will not meet much vocal resistance if they affirm in their day-to-day interactions with fellow teachers:
1) most of the things you learn in classes like Educational Psychology are useless and a complete waste of time
and
2) trying to get students to "pay attention" to "important concepts" is like beating your head against a brick wall..
So, having said that, the rest of this post runs the risk of being extremely uncool and naive. This is a post about something important I learned in Educational Psychology that I want my students to know about.
And before I elaborate, I just want to say a word in defense of the teenagers before I truly embark on this teaching odyssey of mine. This is me tying myself to the mast of my boat and stuffing wax in my ears before the siren song of exhaustion and obnoxiousness and disappointment turns me into the kind of teacher who sees himself as savvy because he can determine who is enemies are (children, fellow teachers, parents, almost all administrators) and the best ways to crush them over petty things. This is the sign I'm hanging around my neck, written in a fleeting moment of clarity, before I stumble into the darkling plain.
In defense of teenagers: it's their job to fight you over everything you say, especially important things. It's an important part of becoming a person. Here's what I see happening all the time--here's a verbatim retelling of a moment this Thursday,
My cooperating teacher is reading to her class of seniors about Shakespeare off a worksheet purchased from a textbook company: "Reading Macbeth is very exciting. However, one important element from the play is always missing from a reading--"
A senior in the back of the class says under his breath, not missing a beat: "Yeah, the excitement."
And then I, and the three or four students sitting in the back , started laughing quietly.
HYPOTHETICAL TEACHER VOICE: Oh HA HA! Very funny! You just think everything is a joke, don't you? Just wait til' you get out in the real world, buddy! I'm trying to help you out and all you want to do is crack jokes in the back. Get out of my classroom!
And then the imaginary voice picks up the student and throws him through the second story window and asks, "Who else want some!?"
What's the conclusion reached? Teenagers just think everything is a joke and they'll cut you down no matter what so you better show them who's boss and never show them any weakness or they'll run right over you.
OR
From a teenager's perspective: Hey, my body and my brain are telling me that I should start acquiring power and wealth and security and a mate. Wait a minute, I don't have any of those things. I'm still doing what I did when I was seven. There's all this authority around me telling me what to do and when to do it. But what if...what if...I mock that authority! I can tear it down and prove it wrong! "Yeah! The excitement!" I've undermined the power and now I am more important than authority. I can undermine anything. I AM THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE WORLD!
And that's a normal, healthy mindset that a person (or most people) have to have. How are you going to provide for other people if you don't acknowledge first that you are important? It is easy and fun and addictive to tear things down but it's also the first part of building things up again.
What I'm trying to say is, I get it, teenagers. You have to be like this. Both to cope with everything around you AND as a search for something authentic. Because I think it's also true that anything that can get through that bristly layer of "I don't care" and "this whole planet sucks", becomes a really really important part of that person later on.
And that's why any of this is worth doing. I walk into the classroom and I just see human-shaped molds of dirt wrapped in barbed wire that I have to chuck seeds and kernels at for 90 minutes and pray that something sticks and grows into a flower or a hotdog tree in three to five years.
That's not entirely true. But I'm trying to say that I don't think teenagers hate learning. They're just trying to manage taking in information while also carving out space to be a person. And you better not come at them with anything inauthentic like reading off a piece of paper "Shakespeare is very exciting".
Ideally they would bring in their own seeds and kernels or choose the ones that matter to them and put them in their dirt heads of their own volition.
But anyway, that's where I am with teenagers for now. Moving on!
Evaluative Thinking Told as the Story of the Progression of the Kung-Fu Master.
So, at some point in everyone's life they're going to start having ideas about ideas. And the kind of thoughts you can have about those ideas follow a particular progression. But that's kind of boring to talk about in terms of thoughts. Let's talk about it in terms of punching things.
Stage One: Absolutism.
In the first stage, there is one punch that must conquer all other punches. The Great Flaming Chicken Red Punch. And the young student learns this punch and is determined to master it. Every obstacle is a test of his mastery and every alternative punch or kick is insufficient. He chicken-punches all his foes. He chicken-punches all mountains and seas and trees and beasts. He is trapped between pity and contempt for all those who practice any other move and over time he becomes one with the art of this crimson poultry fire hand blow. It is the only answer and the world is his pizza for the taking.
Stage Two: Relativism.
But then, one day, the young master-to-be has a revelation that shakes him to his core. Some tragic accident, some epiphany like lightening, some crushing defeat causes him to lose faith in the Great Flaming Chicken Red Punch. And if this punch to crush all other punches can fail, then what is the value of anything? All punches and kicks and spins and headbutts, in the end, add up to a grand total of nothing. No move more effective or useful than any other.
Those poor fools who strut around the way he once strutted--they have no idea of the emptiness of every action. And so the young man wanders the country side for five years, assured in his knowledge that he is no longer living a life of folly. And the young man sits still for three years, assured that his inaction at least carries no pretensions. And then he retreats to the woods for a year.
Actually, he's only in the woods, like, some of the time. The rest of the time he's sitting in the street with a cheap bottle of wine, calling out everybody who walks by for how stupid they all are as he laughs and high-fives himself silly.
Stage Three: EVALUATIVE THINKING!
Who knows what shakes the young master out of his depression-beard, cynical, poo-poo thinking spiral but let's say for the sake of argument that it was a great call to action that he could no longer deny. A hairy monster with fangs like zebras and fists like hardened cakes is attacking Girlfriend Village and, for the first time in almost a decade, he must act to bring about change in the world. But this is not the master who saw every answer in his Red Hot Cock-A-Doodle-Doo Attack. This is a master who fights for values. This is a master who strives to bring about a change because he believes, for his own reasons, that some realities are better or worse than other realities. And no move or idea will ever be completely correct but that the undeniable crises of the world compel us to act with the best solution possible.
That takes thinking, and planning, and judgment calls. The master has returned to the world of things once more with the ability to see ideas as ideas but with the understanding that although these thoughts are just thoughts, they will still have an effect. This is the toughest way of all. Riddled with doubts and regrets and hesitation, the master forges ahead with all manner of uppercuts, face-smashes, and body slams to create a world that is safe for future generations.
The End.
----------------------------------------
Maybe that didn't make any sense. But that's something we learned about in Educational Psychology that I really liked. And it's the first thing I think that I could say I feel a moral imperative to teach. The world should have evaluative thinkers. There should be people who can think and argue and reason and act on those ideas. That can't happen with absolutist or relativist thinking. There's either blind action or inaction which are equally dangerous!
The fate of the world aside, English doesn't make much sense without evaluative thinking. With absolutism a book and written assessment are just there to confirm what you already know or confirm what everyone else is wrong about. With relativism, it's all subjective anyway so the readings add up to nothing and a paper is just made-up (everyone's favorite term to describe writing) "bull crap".
If you don't try to teach evaluative or critical thinking, I don't think you can get past these pitfalls. In evaluative thinking, a book can give you insights into your own or someone else's thoughts. Thinking and learning are worthy aims on their own. The evaluation of a paper may be structured by a teacher but because those are ideas, you can seek to understand them and use them to advance your own thinking or get a good grade. Subjectivity isn't a hopeless mess to an evaluative thinker. You can work within that subjectivity to affect real change in the world. And isn't that what we want?! In the words of LetsRun, don't we all want to "make our dreams a reality"?
What I think evaluative thinking comes down to is the ability to improve. If you already know you're right, or you already know everyone else is wrong, or you already know the game is pointless, then you have no need to improve. It doesn't matter. You're either the best there is or no one wins and you're last. But if you acknowledge that you might make mistakes, and you might be right about some things, then you can correct those mistakes and you can improve on what you do well. And improvement feels really good. Are you kidding me? It's like one of the best, most coolest feelings out there. And you can do that with thinking. And kung-fu. And English class.
So that's my argument to you teenagers. And I don't expect you to believe me. But at the very least (in a more cynical view) you can know that's the game I'm playing and that's how I want you to beat it and it's going to keep coming up again and again and again. Or you can play nice and see this as a journey and this is me pointing you to the steep trail and hoping you'll take it.
1) most of the things you learn in classes like Educational Psychology are useless and a complete waste of time
and
2) trying to get students to "pay attention" to "important concepts" is like beating your head against a brick wall..
So, having said that, the rest of this post runs the risk of being extremely uncool and naive. This is a post about something important I learned in Educational Psychology that I want my students to know about.
And before I elaborate, I just want to say a word in defense of the teenagers before I truly embark on this teaching odyssey of mine. This is me tying myself to the mast of my boat and stuffing wax in my ears before the siren song of exhaustion and obnoxiousness and disappointment turns me into the kind of teacher who sees himself as savvy because he can determine who is enemies are (children, fellow teachers, parents, almost all administrators) and the best ways to crush them over petty things. This is the sign I'm hanging around my neck, written in a fleeting moment of clarity, before I stumble into the darkling plain.
In defense of teenagers: it's their job to fight you over everything you say, especially important things. It's an important part of becoming a person. Here's what I see happening all the time--here's a verbatim retelling of a moment this Thursday,
My cooperating teacher is reading to her class of seniors about Shakespeare off a worksheet purchased from a textbook company: "Reading Macbeth is very exciting. However, one important element from the play is always missing from a reading--"
A senior in the back of the class says under his breath, not missing a beat: "Yeah, the excitement."
And then I, and the three or four students sitting in the back , started laughing quietly.
HYPOTHETICAL TEACHER VOICE: Oh HA HA! Very funny! You just think everything is a joke, don't you? Just wait til' you get out in the real world, buddy! I'm trying to help you out and all you want to do is crack jokes in the back. Get out of my classroom!
And then the imaginary voice picks up the student and throws him through the second story window and asks, "Who else want some!?"
What's the conclusion reached? Teenagers just think everything is a joke and they'll cut you down no matter what so you better show them who's boss and never show them any weakness or they'll run right over you.
OR
From a teenager's perspective: Hey, my body and my brain are telling me that I should start acquiring power and wealth and security and a mate. Wait a minute, I don't have any of those things. I'm still doing what I did when I was seven. There's all this authority around me telling me what to do and when to do it. But what if...what if...I mock that authority! I can tear it down and prove it wrong! "Yeah! The excitement!" I've undermined the power and now I am more important than authority. I can undermine anything. I AM THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE WORLD!
And that's a normal, healthy mindset that a person (or most people) have to have. How are you going to provide for other people if you don't acknowledge first that you are important? It is easy and fun and addictive to tear things down but it's also the first part of building things up again.
What I'm trying to say is, I get it, teenagers. You have to be like this. Both to cope with everything around you AND as a search for something authentic. Because I think it's also true that anything that can get through that bristly layer of "I don't care" and "this whole planet sucks", becomes a really really important part of that person later on.
And that's why any of this is worth doing. I walk into the classroom and I just see human-shaped molds of dirt wrapped in barbed wire that I have to chuck seeds and kernels at for 90 minutes and pray that something sticks and grows into a flower or a hotdog tree in three to five years.
That's not entirely true. But I'm trying to say that I don't think teenagers hate learning. They're just trying to manage taking in information while also carving out space to be a person. And you better not come at them with anything inauthentic like reading off a piece of paper "Shakespeare is very exciting".
Ideally they would bring in their own seeds and kernels or choose the ones that matter to them and put them in their dirt heads of their own volition.
But anyway, that's where I am with teenagers for now. Moving on!
Evaluative Thinking Told as the Story of the Progression of the Kung-Fu Master.
So, at some point in everyone's life they're going to start having ideas about ideas. And the kind of thoughts you can have about those ideas follow a particular progression. But that's kind of boring to talk about in terms of thoughts. Let's talk about it in terms of punching things.
Stage One: Absolutism.
In the first stage, there is one punch that must conquer all other punches. The Great Flaming Chicken Red Punch. And the young student learns this punch and is determined to master it. Every obstacle is a test of his mastery and every alternative punch or kick is insufficient. He chicken-punches all his foes. He chicken-punches all mountains and seas and trees and beasts. He is trapped between pity and contempt for all those who practice any other move and over time he becomes one with the art of this crimson poultry fire hand blow. It is the only answer and the world is his pizza for the taking.
Stage Two: Relativism.
But then, one day, the young master-to-be has a revelation that shakes him to his core. Some tragic accident, some epiphany like lightening, some crushing defeat causes him to lose faith in the Great Flaming Chicken Red Punch. And if this punch to crush all other punches can fail, then what is the value of anything? All punches and kicks and spins and headbutts, in the end, add up to a grand total of nothing. No move more effective or useful than any other.
Those poor fools who strut around the way he once strutted--they have no idea of the emptiness of every action. And so the young man wanders the country side for five years, assured in his knowledge that he is no longer living a life of folly. And the young man sits still for three years, assured that his inaction at least carries no pretensions. And then he retreats to the woods for a year.
Actually, he's only in the woods, like, some of the time. The rest of the time he's sitting in the street with a cheap bottle of wine, calling out everybody who walks by for how stupid they all are as he laughs and high-fives himself silly.
Stage Three: EVALUATIVE THINKING!
Who knows what shakes the young master out of his depression-beard, cynical, poo-poo thinking spiral but let's say for the sake of argument that it was a great call to action that he could no longer deny. A hairy monster with fangs like zebras and fists like hardened cakes is attacking Girlfriend Village and, for the first time in almost a decade, he must act to bring about change in the world. But this is not the master who saw every answer in his Red Hot Cock-A-Doodle-Doo Attack. This is a master who fights for values. This is a master who strives to bring about a change because he believes, for his own reasons, that some realities are better or worse than other realities. And no move or idea will ever be completely correct but that the undeniable crises of the world compel us to act with the best solution possible.
That takes thinking, and planning, and judgment calls. The master has returned to the world of things once more with the ability to see ideas as ideas but with the understanding that although these thoughts are just thoughts, they will still have an effect. This is the toughest way of all. Riddled with doubts and regrets and hesitation, the master forges ahead with all manner of uppercuts, face-smashes, and body slams to create a world that is safe for future generations.
The End.
----------------------------------------
Maybe that didn't make any sense. But that's something we learned about in Educational Psychology that I really liked. And it's the first thing I think that I could say I feel a moral imperative to teach. The world should have evaluative thinkers. There should be people who can think and argue and reason and act on those ideas. That can't happen with absolutist or relativist thinking. There's either blind action or inaction which are equally dangerous!
The fate of the world aside, English doesn't make much sense without evaluative thinking. With absolutism a book and written assessment are just there to confirm what you already know or confirm what everyone else is wrong about. With relativism, it's all subjective anyway so the readings add up to nothing and a paper is just made-up (everyone's favorite term to describe writing) "bull crap".
If you don't try to teach evaluative or critical thinking, I don't think you can get past these pitfalls. In evaluative thinking, a book can give you insights into your own or someone else's thoughts. Thinking and learning are worthy aims on their own. The evaluation of a paper may be structured by a teacher but because those are ideas, you can seek to understand them and use them to advance your own thinking or get a good grade. Subjectivity isn't a hopeless mess to an evaluative thinker. You can work within that subjectivity to affect real change in the world. And isn't that what we want?! In the words of LetsRun, don't we all want to "make our dreams a reality"?
What I think evaluative thinking comes down to is the ability to improve. If you already know you're right, or you already know everyone else is wrong, or you already know the game is pointless, then you have no need to improve. It doesn't matter. You're either the best there is or no one wins and you're last. But if you acknowledge that you might make mistakes, and you might be right about some things, then you can correct those mistakes and you can improve on what you do well. And improvement feels really good. Are you kidding me? It's like one of the best, most coolest feelings out there. And you can do that with thinking. And kung-fu. And English class.
So that's my argument to you teenagers. And I don't expect you to believe me. But at the very least (in a more cynical view) you can know that's the game I'm playing and that's how I want you to beat it and it's going to keep coming up again and again and again. Or you can play nice and see this as a journey and this is me pointing you to the steep trail and hoping you'll take it.
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Derangle Ansel
Sometimes when I take a really good picture you can see that quality of the paper...
the quality?
the texture I mean.
Also, this is a guy.
Ansel is a cool name.
the quality?
the texture I mean.
Also, this is a guy.
Ansel is a cool name.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Monday, February 2, 2015
Look at all this STUFF!
And the eye-stalks
and the animal-cracker bears
assembled in the clearing of the woods
to heed the call of the muscular lemonade.
and the animal-cracker bears
assembled in the clearing of the woods
to heed the call of the muscular lemonade.
And he waxed flexingly:
Lest we be swallowed up by the ocean or
gentrified by the smiling backpackers,
let us take to the skies and ride the horizon
into the rock n' roll present.
Freaks of the forest--unite and fly!
let us take to the skies and ride the horizon
into the rock n' roll present.
Freaks of the forest--unite and fly!
Sunday, February 1, 2015
A slightly feminized version of my roommate transfixed by the ever shifting flashes of the void
Because isn't that a fun way to say watching House of Cards on Netflix?! Woooo! So scary and poetic when Andy sets his wit-cannon on popular culture! Watch out, incredibly rich people! Soon your dark truths will be revealed as I tear away your rainbow tablecloth to reveal the rotting carcasses that make up the table upon which the public binges on your lies! MWAHAHAHAHA!!! Political satire with the keenest of edges! The swirly sweater has dethroned the emperor of ice cream! Broccoli wins the day! Broccoli wins the day!
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