Читать книгу Forgive Us Our Trespasses - Diane Gensler - Страница 12

Chapter 4

Thy Will be Done

In the public school system, I had been given a curriculum guide to help me teach. This guide, created mostly by teachers, was a huge help in lesson planning. In addition to providing specific units, within each unit were objectives, suggestions for activities, and handouts that could be used directly with the students. Private schools rarely give teachers curriculum guides.

Today “Common Core” has standardized teaching objectives throughout the nation in the hopes that all students will meet the same expectations at the same points throughout their learning and be ready and prepared for higher learning and the work force. This was developed over many years with the help of teachers. “Common Core” has, in a sense, revolutionized teaching methods in that they dictate more of how teachers should introduce concepts, explain them and help the students learn the material.

Instead, at this school I had been given a list of objectives with sets of literature and grammar textbooks. It was like being given a recipe without the directions. You know what you want to make and you have the ingredients, but the steps are missing. Teachers must figure out the details themselves. Each daily lesson plan has a structure with different parts, and the teacher must create them, deciding which activities to do and how long they will take. She also needs to address different learning styles and needs of the students and include different methods of interaction in the classroom, such as group work or students working in pairs. I tried to be creative with how I handled the course content, and I always tried to make my lessons enjoyable.

Our first unit was “The Story and Its Elements” which I used with all three grades but with modifications for each. For the eighth grade, I used more difficult stories and activities. I chose this unit because the content was covered at the beginning of the literature books since it included the fundamental elements of literature. In addition, I had taught something similar in my student teaching and long-term substitute experiences. While this is primarily a literature unit about plot, conflict, setting, characters and theme, since I was teaching integrated Language Arts, I wove vocabulary, grammar, and composition into it.

One of the activities I included was to have the students do improvisation, acting out fictitious situations I created. This kept them actively engaged and stressed the importance of character, plot, and setting. One scenario was that an elephant has escaped from the zoo and is found in someone’s backyard. In my seventh grade class, Billy took the lead in this one. He was a light-skinned Caucasian boy with freckles and light brown hair who reminded me of Opie from the Andy Griffith show. Looking out our back window with his mouth agape and his eyes wide, he feigned shock and disbelief that grazing behind our classroom was a ten-ton tusked, gray, African mammoth.

“Holy cow, how did that get out there?” he exclaimed, pointing to the lawn behind us.

“That’s not a cow; that’s an elephant!” a second boy proclaimed.

“How are we going to get it out of here?” Billy asked. “We need to return it to the zoo.”

“We need to put it to sleep,” a third boy directed, passing out imaginary tranquilizer guns.

Aiming at the elephant who, by this time, had magically appeared in our room, bypassing any normal entry points, the boys pulled their triggers, and supposedly the elephant fell to the ground, although none of us felt the proverbial earth shake.

“Did it work?” they asked each other, bending down to examine the body.

“Yes, I think he’s asleep,” the third boy answered.

“Let’s get him out of here,” Billy directed.

Spreading themselves around the large open area of the room, they each pretended to lift a part of the unconscious elephant. They heaved, pulled, and moaned for several minutes, feigning exhaustion, stopping to sit down, asking for water, and then eventually pretending to drag the massive, hefty carcass out the door, which somehow magically fit through the narrow opening. That was one of several noteworthy performances, and afterward we had a nice discussion about the elements of narration. All the students had a great time and asked me to include more activities of this nature in the future.

Later in the school year we travelled to the younger grades to perform scenes and one-act plays. Some students performed original works like a fractured (also known as twisted) fairy tale, a fairy tale where the plot, characters, setting, or some other element has changed. I knew the younger kids were excited, because their teachers told me how they were counting down the days until our arrival. They could barely stay in their seats when they saw us. They were clapping and cheering before anything started. My students felt like movie stars.

One of the most memorable performances was by a group of my seventh graders who chose to reenact the main chocolate room scene from Roald Dahl’s Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. We had made a chocolate river from a long roll of brown bulletin board paper, and they couldn’t have picked a more fitting actor to play Augustus Gloop. Franco was a short, rotund, brown-skinned boy who liked to “ham it up.” His black hair was in a bowl cut with straight bangs like Moe from the Three Stooges. For his part, he knelt down by the river and pretended to slurp up the chocolate with his hands.

He delivered his lines with his prepubescent high-pitched enthusiastic voice, “Mmmmm….this stuff is terrrifffiiccc. I need a bucket to drink it properly.”

As he put his hands to his face, he secretly smeared chocolate hidden in his fists. I wish I had a photograph of his clown-like appearance with his round face, chubby cheeks and full lips all smothered in melted chocolate. We were all hysterical.

Then he pretended to fall into the river, rolling and thrashing about on the paper as he screamed, “Help! Help! I can’t swim!”

To add to the frolic and histrionics, four students dressed as oompa loompas, the short chocolate workers in Wonka’s factory. They wore white t-shirts with big O’s on the front, but skipped face paint and wigs. With arms crossed and deep knee bends, they sang the song from the original 1971 soundtrack:

Oompa loompa doompety doo

I’ve got a perfect puzzle for you

Oompa loompa doompety dee

If you are wise you’ll listen to me

What do you get when you guzzle down sweets

Eating as much as an elephant eats

What are you at, getting terribly fat

What do you think will come of that

I don’t like the look of it

Oompa loompa doompety da

If you’re not greedy, you will go far

You will live in happiness too

Like the Oompa Loompa Doompety do

Doompety do

— Anthony Newley / Leslie Bricusse

My students were thrilled to receive thank-you notes from the young audience members. They couldn’t wait for another opportunity to perform. The other half of the sixth, seventh and eighth graders heard what great performances my students gave and requested performances too. So we honored their requests, continued our “road show,” and visited the middle school classrooms as well.

Starting from the beginning of the year, we would often read together in class, initially with short stories but eventually advancing to novels. I gave students time every week to read a book of their choice in class. Each child had a journal, which was a marble composition book, that we used to write reader’s responses. We reviewed what makes a good journal entry and examined different types. I kept a list hanging on the wall. Some of the items on the list were to summarize a chapter, write about how they relate to an incident or character, write a letter to a friend or teacher about something they read, make a prediction, write a poem or song about something in the book, or write something else if they were inspired. Sometimes I would pair them to share journal entries. I would often pair myself with a willing student. From time to time I would take the journals home (one class at a time but still a heavy load) and respond to their entries. I enjoyed reading them.

The children were welcome to bring their own books or library books to class to read. I checked to make sure the books were appropriate and on grade level.

Mrs. A popped her head in my room one day during my planning period.

“Diane, Mr. Z needs to see you right away. He’s waiting for you. Go now and don’t waste any time,” she said ominously. She ducked out.

What did I do? Why on earth am I being summoned to the principal’s office? Why does it sound so urgent? Does Mrs. A know what he wants and doesn’t want to tell me? What am I in trouble for?

I dropped what I was doing and headed down the corridor, shuffling my feet on the carpet like a shackled prisoner making the long walk to the execution chair. I’m surprised I didn’t electrocute myself with all the static electricity I generated. With each step I could hear the figurative chains rattle as I wracked my brain trying to figure out what I could possibly have done wrong. I hadn’t had a conversation with Mr. Z since my interview. I couldn’t think of one reason why he would ask to see me. Did I say something wrong to a student or a teacher? Did I neglect to turn in some important piece of paperwork? Is he ripping up my contract and firing me on the spot? Maybe I was just being paranoid, and he actually wanted to compliment me for something.

I stood squeamishly in front of his door, took a deep breath and forced myself to knock. I considered running back to my classroom, but I didn’t think that was a good idea.

“Come in,” I heard through the door. I opened the door and took a few steps inside. He didn’t offer me a seat or shake my hand. He got right to the point.

“There was a group of your sixth graders who came to see me,” he said.

Oh my gosh! Whaaaat??!

“And their parents have complained as well.”

Holy crap! I really must have done something wrong! What were they complaining about?

I tried to remain composed, but once again I was sweating in his office even though the temperature was just right. Was I getting fired after only working a few weeks? What did I do? What would happen to my students if they replaced me? I don’t want to leave.

“You have no library in your room. The kids want to have books.”

“What?”

“Books,” he answered a little louder. “The kids want books. They want to be able to select their own books to read for leisure.”

“They do select their own books for leisure,” I replied.

“They want to be able to select books from your classroom.”

Well, that’s great!” I exclaimed.

“You need a classroom library.”

“We have a school library. I was going to take them as a class next week so they could check out books. I’ve already made arrangements.”

“They are accustomed to the teacher having a shelf with books on it for them. They don’t want to have to go to the library,” he said, sighing exasperatedly.

“Oh,” I responded. “Our own library?”

“Yes,” he answered impatiently through clenched teeth. He was obviously perturbed, and so was I, as our conversation seemed to be going in circles. I felt like the village idiot.

“Well, I think it’s great that they want a classroom library. I would love to have one. But it’ll take some time to put together.”

This is why I’ve been called to the office? This is my major offense? It’s only the second week of school and my first full year of teaching, and they are upset because I don’t have a book collection? And why are they bringing this to the principal’s attention and not to me?

“We can provide you with a bookshelf,” he said.

“Okay....” I paused for a moment. “I would hope that my students would feel comfortable enough to come to me and tell me this themselves.”

“I’ll have someone bring you a bookshelf when we find one,” he responded. “Thanks.”

I left his office and returned to my classroom, puzzled by this whole affair. I would have to “feel out” my sixth graders and try to find out what was going on. Now I had to focus on how to get books for my classroom. Of course the school didn’t offer to pay for them. It was expected that I would use my own money, as I did for all my bulletin board materials and many instructional materials. The other teachers told me at the beginning of the year there was no stipend for supplies. The principal didn’t mention if there were books available for use somewhere in the school or if someone could donate books, and I hadn’t thought to ask. Did the other teachers have classroom libraries? I hadn’t seen any.

True to his word, several days later I found a four-shelf bookcase parked inside my classroom. I pushed it to the rear of the room near the back door. This location made it accessible but out of the traffic pattern.

A few days later, three of my homeroom girls showed me some novels they owned that they had brought to school. I could tell from the start that they had been close friends for years, as they often chatted, wrote notes to each other, and chose each other for partners. Nadine, a pretty Caucasian girl with a lovely round face, dazzling smile, and beautiful sleek curly hair who I thought could be a model for Seventeen magazine, was holding several books from the Babysitter’s Club series. Grace, an attractive long-faced, Caucasian girl with freckles, was holding Sweet Valley High books. Rachael, a cute fair-skinned girl-next-door type with a round face and straight blonde hair, was holding a couple Nancy Drew books. I thought all three of these girls dressed in their plaid uniform skirts with their cute legs and bobby socks could pass as cheerleaders for some youth basketball or football team.

“We’d like to put these on the shelf so that we can share them,” they told me, pointing to the bookcase.

“That’s great!” I replied. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, and I really appreciate you sharing your own books with the entire class.” We took turns placing the books on the bottom shelf. It accentuated the vacancy in the remainder of the bookcase.

Something must be right. These girls are showing initiative and good values. Did they come up with this idea themselves?

I prodded a little bit.

“So whose idea was it to have a classroom library?”

They looked at each other.

Looking down at the floor, Rachael confided, “My mom asked me what I was reading and why.” She lifted her head and returned my gaze. “I showed her the book I have been bringing to class, and she asked why you don’t have books available for us.” I thought she sounded apologetic, but I could have been reading into it.

“Oh,” I replied. “Well, as I said before, it was a good idea to have a classroom library.” I looked at each girl. “I want you to feel comfortable enough to come to me first if you have any problems, questions or concerns. You let me know next time if you have any ideas or suggestions, okay?”

The girls nodded.

The homeroom bell rang, and there was no more time for conversation. I hadn’t heard any more from the principal or the parents about the classroom library. It seemed to me as if it were the parents who had “jumped the gun” and gone directly to the principal. I didn’t understand why they’d make such a big deal out of this and not take it up with me themselves. The principal had told me that a group of my students had come to him. So I presumed that the parents sent their children to the principal or asked the principal to take them aside to discuss the matter.

After only a few weeks, our book collection had grown literally from the ground up, from the bottom shelf to four full shelves as the students brought in more books and I stocked them with used books I bought. I found a local public library had used books for sale costing between twenty five cents to one dollar per book. I initially selected books with my previous knowledge of which were considered classic, popular, and enticing to middle schoolers. I had read many of these books myself over the years, my interest sparked by a young adult literature class I took in college as well as from my former students.

I bought books in all different genres hoping to appeal to as many students as possible. I stacked the shelves with books from Judy Blume (minus Forever, as that was not at all appropriate and would certainly never be acceptable in this school), Gary Paulsen, S.E. Hinton, Catherine Paterson, Paul Zindel, Richard Peck, Beverly Cleary, Robert Cormier, Lois Duncan, Norma Fox Mazer, Cynthia Voight, Madeline L’Engle, Louis Sachar, and more. I never received a thank you from the principal nor any of the parents. While the books were cheap, I did end up spending plenty of my own money.

I continued to frequent the used book sale, picking up books my students had expressed interest in. By the end of the school year, we had accumulated a couple hundred books!