Evidence and Envy

Monday, February 27, 1995

[The following used to be the conclusion of Thursday's (2-23-95) journal entry. It disrupted the flow and so I'm moving it...since today (2-28-95), I'm back to working on the WASC evidence sheets...]

The WASC visitation committee wants to know what we are doing in the classroom in the various discipline areas. We have spent the last nine months going over what we do individually, as a department, and as a school, to improve the intellectual and emotional growth of our clientele. Beyond statements of what we do, we have had to provide evidence. And for each piece of evidence, we need to provide a cover sheet, explaining what the item (for example, a lesson, a survey done of students or parents, a piece of student work, or a piece of curricula) does, its level of success, its method of evaluation, and what areas of growth it addresses.

I have two cover sheets to type and one class observation. The first piece of evidence is my multimedia presentation lesson. I have a class watch three films, all based on works we’ve studied in class. Then I split the class into six groups, two per film, and give each group an element of fiction to discuss (it could be character, setting, symbolism, structure, foreshadowing, or the like). First, the group must decide upon the theme of the work, its overall meaning. Then the group discusses how their particular element of fiction helps to demonstrate the theme. The group’s job is then to find examples from the film that show the element and its relationship to the theme. They examine the films on laserdiscs, making notes of when the scenes that support their thesis should appear in their presentations. Once they’ve collected evidence, they create bar-codes for their scenes, and create a presentation in which they use film clips to teach their element of fiction and theme to the rest of the class. The group then presents its presentation.

The second of the pieces of evidence is an expository paragraph writing assignment. The reason I included this piece is that it’s a good example of how Atwell’s Writer’s Workshop (even in a truncated, mutated version) can help poor writers create good product.

During the evidence gathering period, we were asked to observe other teachers. I chose to observe another freshman English teacher, Nathaniel Yoshikawa. Yosh, as he’s known, is a study in opposites. He’s dynamic, yet grammar-centered; he’s structured, yet he lets his class run the show often; he’s intensely into student input, yet he lectures a great deal. While this may sound like it could be a negative, it’s not. He’s simply putting the two sides of teaching together. The yin and yang. I wish I could do what he does in bringing together the two sides; I’m constantly finding myself leaning toward one or the other side of the extreme (too structured, usually, I think). In October, I observed him discussing The Miracle Worker with his English One (college prep) class. The first part of my observation was a straight question-and-answer session. Fast-paced, but fairly old-school. The second part, however, was incredible. Yosh calls it "the Hot Seat." He has a student volunteer sit in a chair before the class and assume the role of a character from a work they’ve read. The members of the class then ask questions to this "character." And the student answers them in character. It’s a great activity, and it was wonderful to watch. In this instance, the girl who volunteered was less than thrilled when Yosh gave her the character of Annie. However, she responded thoughtfully and with just the right amount of attitude to the questions that were posed (some of which were posed in character--the Captain, James--as well). I envied his students.

At the beginning of this year, I was supposed to have taught English 1 Honors, a new pilot course on our campus. In our district, though there are Honors classes in ninth-grade math and science, there are no freshman Honors classes (unless sites elect to create a second-semester, half-year-only Honors class). The stated reason is that since English is such a subjective subject, it would take at least half a year for teachers to decide who should be in such a class. The reason is a sham, a real crock, since we already have a process in place to qualify students for the program, one filled with essays, grade point averages, recommendations, and test scores. Since previous years have found our English department reluctant to buck the trend or to look for loophole, the district policy has stood at C.H.S.. Last year, however, during a discussion of the possibility of creating a 1H class, I raised the argument that since our Honors kids, coming from a low socio-economic background, are in a deficit (this I knew after teaching the English 3 Honors, and seeing them achieve at a lower level than my English 2H classes at Pleasant Valley), we really do need a 1H course at C.H.S.. And, more importantly, that our restructured schedule was the perfect loophole. Spring semester here is a full "year" because of our 90-minute-long classes. This raised a few eyebrows. We ended up adopting the idea of a freshman Honors class, and I would teach it during the second half of the year, with another teacher taking my slot in English 3 Honors.

By fall, however, there had been a shift. Our department chairperson had left us over the summer to become assistant principal at Academy High. This left her slot as department chair and her teaching position as the English 4 Honors teacher open. Much wrangling ensued (which at some other point I may cover, but not now...). Suffice to say, Yosh is now the English 1 Honors teacher and I have the combination 4/4H. And I envy his students. And I can’t wait to have them as seniors (if I’m still around).

[I know this kind of chronological musical chairs is a kind of a cheat, but yesterday was a day from hell: an hour and a half in the dentist's chair, working on a crown for me; an afternoon doctor's appointment (strep for both Lisa and me); a pediatrician's appointment (an ear infection plus congestion for Kyle); and a pharmacy run.

[So sue me, if I didn't write today/yesterday...]