Riches

Today proved highly unusual for my seniors and me. As usual, the second semester seniors dragged into first period College Writing moments before or shortly after the 8:00 a.m. bell. Their outfits were the only oddity- young ladies in dark dresses and young men in black suits and serious ties. We needed to attend a funeral together today. We needed to travel a short distance to Durham to show support for a fellow senior, just eighteen years old, who experienced a loss I have never faced: the death of her mother.

In the midst of my student's personal tragedy, I had the opportunity to see the richness of life, the richness of love, the richness of community, the richness of duty, the richness of maturity.

Our school is small with a senior class of only 40. As the students learned of this mother's unexpected death, all seniors asked permission to attend the funeral. Many had not ever attended one until today.

We were the first to arrive in Watts Street Baptist Church, the historic church built in 1925, that included many elements missing from today's modern, hip churches- a pipe organ, stained glass windows, a robed choir, a transomed ceiling, hymn books. I watched as my students, possibly unfamiliar with the liturgy, the music, the tradition, sit solemnly and respectfully ready to embrace all elements in support of their classmate.

We read the Psalms written in King James I's orders; we sang words scribed by Saint Francis of Assisi; we watched the Army emissaries complete military honors and present the flag to one young lady; we hugged the family members; we thanked the pastors; we ate the food lovingly prepared by the church body. We participated, as a community, offering only condolences and hugs, not relief from pain.

Yesterday, my students and I wore our normal clothes. I advised my students on tips for organizing their research. I reminded them how to cite sources correctly. Tomorrow, I will offer strategies for self and peer editing. We will move forward on regular assignments necessary to complete their college preparatory education.

Today, we learned valuable lessons together. My regular lesson plans and unit objectives fail to cover the life skills learned today. Students had a rapid immersion in loss. In death. We learned that when you see someone hurting, when you hear of tragedy, when you feel helpless, when nothing will make the situation better, we learned there is only one thing to do:  show solidarity simply through the act of being present.

Today, this teacher is grateful and proud and broken-hearted and thankful and optimistic and rich. This teacher is very rich.

Teaching & Reteaching 

#TeachinginNC
Why am I starting a blog? Because I need to write, speak, and think more than just in Room 114. I have a story to tell about the on-going process of learning. That's all.

My student have now finished reading, for their first and most likely only time, Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter and selections from Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales. Honestly, I've lost count but probably have read Hawthorne at least a dozen times while Chaucer, is fewer, but I've studied his entire work in the original Middle English. Am I bored with these selections? Does familiarity breed contempt or endearment?

Strangely, the quality of the work, especially in Hawthorne, shines strong in multiple studies. Each re-reading forces new insights, new understanding, and new revelations. I see a word or a punctuation device, even a simple hyphen, never noticed before. In bringing the work to a classroom of diverse learners, I gain insight from those who learn differently than I. This year's juniors have artistic tendencies so I directed them toward colors, structures, and locations. The visual direction their brains focus showed Hawthorne's structuring of the novel anew. The scaffold scene, key at the beginning, middle, and end, showcases character changes and revelations even in the position of the characters' feet on ground, steps, or on a platform. The characters involved, as they touch each other physically, reveal to the reader themes of love, loyalty, betrayal, and forgiveness. Have I read this information before? Of course. Watching the words create meaning and guiding less confident readers toward understanding requires that I understand their processing methods. In doing so, my processing increases. Hawthorne's craftsmanship impresses me again, during my 2014 rereading, and excites me as I tuck another piece of knowledge in my educator's arsenal.

How can I grow tired of teaching? For every piece of knowledge or new skill I hope to transmit, my students reinforce, train, teach, and transmit so much more directly to me.  On this Saturday afternoon, while feeling confident about the completed unit on The Scarlet Letter, I'm ready now to move to my back porch and begin grading editorials my seniors wrote concerning an issue raised in The Scarlet Letter. Did the students understand Chaucer's social commentary enough to connect ideas? Did the access to digital news and opinion reports prove effective? Did they enjoy the task? Did their writing convey ideas effectively. We'll see. Even while assessing their efforts today, I'll learn more about my favorite British writer and understand the characters in the Prologue or in the Miller's Tale in a new, clever way altogether.