Somewhere North of Bangor from “Fires in the belly

Hallows Lake: Chapter 1

Tue, 22 Jan 2008 10:08:37 -0500

Living Wisely Or Winning the Soccer Game

Tue, 22 Jan 2008 00:42:19 -0500

It's hard to convince myself that this weekend sports scene is the best thing for the kids, or for us as a family. I am coaching Eddie's team on Saturdays and Margaret's team on Sundays. I don't know if "coaching' is the word as I am more inclined to just want them to go out and kick the ball around and discover whether or not soccer is fun, and whether or not I can make it fun. Otherwise it feels like it becomes just a transient skill; a passing experience of dubious value. If a kid finds joy in something they will invest themselves in learning at a later and more involved stage of their lives. I seldom see "joy' included in my list of drills. But, by the same token, I don't feel I have the right to impose these views on parents who have signed their kids up for "real" soccer, with "real" drills. There is a balance somewhere, but it's that point on the fulcrum that is so hard to discern. And then what do you do when you sense that point. I have been teaching and working with kids for 30 years; I am pretty sure of my gut instinct, but to proclaim that publicly is a pompous act. That is the risk I am taking.

In economic's class at U-Mass my socialist professor often talked about the "opportunity cost" of any action--probably the only thing I remember from her class. The theory argues that you have to weigh the cost of every action and consider its effect--good or bad--on your overall goals. For a couple of hours of soccer each weekend we forgo huge opportunities as a family. We idle away many hours between games and practices. Kids don't know when to say no; and it seems we don't either. I would love to come home on Friday and pile the kids in our 1970's RV and go camping. I would love to look forward to true and real family time. I would like to think I am always affecting the quality of the day for the better. There is a great conflict of time going on pitting myself against myself. That's the rub! I don't know if I am weak and stupid, or enlightened and caring. More than likely a mixture of the two. I am proud and happy to be my children's coach, but at the same time I feel like I am being railroaded against my greater instinct.

Soccer, Little League, Pop Warner, swimming, gymnastics, theater; These are all part of our fascination with how to be the best at what we do. Our kids learn early and well that winning is important--incredibly important. Winning is almost always rewarded, while losing is tolerated. Often it is not tolerated. There are many coaches who take the "opportunity" presented by losing as a "teaching moment;" a time to berate the mental lapses of small children; a time to drive home their lack of dedication. The kids are reminded that they need to work harder; they need to put in more effort (as if we could ever know what constitutes the reality of effort). They are punished for their lack of attention. My oldest daughter's coach has the whole team run suicide drills as punishment for their sins in practice. That is not punishment to my daughter. She can run all day. It's a chance for her to show off her stamina, but it is a brutal humiliation to the kids who don't have that stamina; kids who, through no fault of their own, might be slightly overweight, or might not be physically mature enough for that stamina to be developed. After a softball game where I was the umpire I saw a coach make her team run laps after losing a close game, with the losing pitcher taking up the rear sobbing her way around the bases. We say we "enjoy the game" when our actions on the sidelines betray our allegiances. We don't scream and cheer for "the other side." What many parent's think is encouragement and sound advice is heard by the kids for what often is: screaming from the sidelines, far off gestures of frustration witht what the young athletes have not accomplished.

It is not only the larger actions of our lives that are affected by the opportunities we miss. These opportunities are obvious even in the smallest gestures and decisions we make in common hours. By turning on the tv at night we tune out the people around us. We close the books we might have read, we avoid the music we may have made. Our minds are deadened to the rich interplay of thought and creativity of engaging conversation. More and demanding jobs bring us more money but less time with our family, and less time to cultivate our own inner lives. More homework should have a discernable effect on a kid's academic skills--but I don't think it does; especially if a child is driven to boredom, drudgery and anxiety by the process and magnitude of the work involved. I have faith in the person who chooses, or is guided, to make decisions about their free time based on the pursuit of their passions.

"You can't kill time without wounding eternity." That is how Thoreau began his admonishment of the "mean and base way" we live our lives. In our suburban society we kill time in the most exhausting of ways. We cannot pass the calendar without making mental notes of the wekend's obligations. We pray that nothing is scheduled on at least one weekend. We mentally delete the other possibilities: a trip to grandma and grandpa, a hike up a mountain, a family picnic. I am married to a wonderful woman who takes her obligations seriously. If we sign a kid up for something they are going to be there wherever and whenever the coach says to be there--No matter what I write.

But then: what to do? I agree that kids need sports. They need to learn to work as teams. They need the exercise and the release of being physical and competitive. They are born for joy and motion. They are probably born to fly. From my perspective the obvious place for this to be experienced in a sustained and productive way is during school. My younger kids have gym twice a week. My oldest, in 7th grade, has gym once a week. In that case especially, why bother? Sports--or at least good physical exercise, should be required of every kid every day. It should be a central part of our curriculum. If we need to tack an hour onto the day, then we should. It might present a problem to the teacher's union, but as educators they will agree that sports and physical exercise are a useful and needed component of any child's education. The current status quo is not worth preserving. As a community we need to begin the conversation about making the shift to a longer school day. As families we need to make choices that our best for our families. For many families it will be sports all weekend--and that is absolutely and truly fine. My kids want to play soccer. They love it; they play endlessly in our backyard. But in order for them to play an organized game we are limited to weekend games--every weekend until the frost hangs heavy.

I am not trying to abnegate my role as a parent/coach, nor am I trying to shift the blame to the schools. I'm just trying to think my way through a perplexing social dilemna: What is the opportunity cost of joining the weekend soccer scene? And would I really spend that time in any better way? These are precious days in our lives. I hope we are spending them wisely. I hope we are living wisely.

First Letter To My Students

Tue, 22 Jan 2008 00:40:09 -0500

More so than any teachers I remember my English teachers. I remember Mr Smith threw a book at a kid who made a sarcastic comment about something. A few years later he threw an eraser at a kid; then he walked out of the room and never went back to teaching. His wife was a teacher too. She screamed and said she'd leave him. That was thirty years ago. I see her now driving around Concord in a Maserati sports car he bought her, so I guess they are still together. Mr. Phalon would read to us for practically the whole class--even though we were in sixth grade. He still read to us like we were kids. We were, I guess, because I really liked listening to him. In 7th grade Ms Keiger had us read amazing short stories. All I remember is her saying things like "Pretty good, huh?" I remember we read a chapter from a story about a guy who lived with his mother and shot hoops all day. I read that chapter again much later in life. I was surprised by it. Ms. Keiger became even cooler than she was. In fifth grade I had a nun--Sister something or other--who made us close our eyes and listen to a song called 'The Sounds of Silence.' It was all very un-nunlike, so it left a huge impression. I closed my eyes and listened a lot more after that. Especially to silence.

My senior year in high school, at CCHS, Dr. Nickerson (she made us call her doctor) gave me an F on a paper I wrote and she reported me for plaigurism. I had gone down to White's Pond on one of the coldest nights of the year and sat there for hours. I'd spent most of my life swimming, fishing, skating and sailing on that pond. I remember sitting there against the beachwall. I remember that I cried, but more because I was happy; I was happy that I could find that much joy freezing my butt off and letting the memories of my entire life go in and out of me. It never would have happened if I was with a friend, so I called it "The Necessity of Solitude." I worked incredibly hard on that paper and was pretty proud of the title. She said it was too much like Thoreau to be mine. In a weird way it was a compliment because she also said it was too good to be my writing. But, it did make me want to read Thoreau. She broke her back a week later and went on medical leave. Mr. Horne took over and laughed at my F. He told me that it would be best to ignore what English teachers say. It's still not bad advice.

But here I am with you guys. You might be wondering what the Sam Hill does a shop teacher know about teaching English? And that's good, because a good writer asks questions; and then spends the rest of his or her life answering those questions. This year will come and go; and if you give a damn, you'll probably get a good grade. Actually, if you give a damn, you'll get more than a good grade. Way more. I think this will be the easiest class you ever had in your life. All I want is all you are capable of giving. The gift you'll receive in return will be the more valuable gift. People will ask you what you are doing in class. You'll be able to respond simply by saying that "We read and we write."

We read and we write.

Remember those words. They will mean something very different at the end of the year.

The Finger Pointing at the Moon

Tue, 22 Jan 2008 00:37:13 -0500

What makes a kid turn their attention to God? On tuesday night I am speaking to 35 8th graders. My fear--and it is a reality usually there--is that my effort to preach often becomes an exercise in teaching; Which is the last thing those kids need! I need to create a forum for them to to experience their own relationship with God. It is hard to think about God and not want God, but, it is easy to hear about God and tune your ears away from the preacher; to even hate the messenger. I think I would have hated John The Baptist: the crazy loon howling half naked in the wilderness; the lunatic fringe of apocalypse. I do imagine myself drawn to the stories of Jesus. I imagine myself trying to probe the mystery of what he said; his words truly are the proverbial finger pointing at the moon. Words spoken directly about God always lose their mark, but words spoken for God, or to God--they can carry us to a deeper experience of what it means to be alive. To dwell in that space is all I can ask. To help other people find that space. That is preaching. The finger pointing, not the head shouting.

A Nancy Atwell Conference

Tue, 22 Jan 2008 00:33:12 -0500

Early Saturday morning, waiting for the sun; still a good hour away. This seems to be the only time I can get to my journal on a regular basis. Tommy is up with me, happy as the dickens, singing on my chair, a huge smile beaming every time I look at him. Good kid.

I spent yesterday at a writing conference with Nancy Atwell. My sister Pat used to work with her years ago, back when Nancy was first espousing what was then a radical approach to teaching writing. As brother's and sisters we at least laugh now that nothing Patty did or thought was wrong--and I've never met a person who knew her to disagree with that. At any rate she loved Nancy Atwell and everything she was trying to do. Now I guess Nancy is pretty famous. She has started her own school in Maine where writing is the central part of their curriculum. I agreed with most everything she had to say. The only thing that bugged me was the fact that my school probably paid some god awful price to send me there, and essentially all we did was join three hundred other people sitting in a banquet room watching overheads describing everything in her new book (which, to give her credit, does sound like a great book). I think there's a Mark Twain quote that goes something like: "It's good to be good; but it's better to teach people how to be good--and a damn sight easier!" (and probably more lucrative). All in all it was a good day. I left exhausted; but my head a-swimming with ideas and reflections.

It got me thinking how much I enjoy teaching writing, especially when I have the freedom to pursue the bent of my own leanings; many of which lock stepped with Nancy's ideas. If anything, she gave me the validation to pursue poetry as an effective writing tool. I've always felt that writing poetry reinforced the basic skills needed for any type of writing; but, I've always been reticent to argue it into the curriculum, somehow afraid that it is a dead skill. I know it's not a dead skill--though it is a dying art. She emphasized the need for kids to see something become of their work; some way to collate/publish/ display the writing they (and we) do. The online literary magazine we use in class answers that call pretty well. I do need to find publications kids can send their work to see if it can be published. (I need to do the same with my own work.)

The Conference completely reinforced my belief, at least for the upper school) that we need more time for English. It is too huge a skill and discipline to cover in four forty minute blocks. It reinforced the need for them to have access to computers. It's not simply that I am into technology, or that I am jealous of the math department; it's just that I am seeing everyday how the weblogs with their comments box and the internet have enabled me to keep in touch with my kids "as they write." It has enabled those kids to form informal peer editing and commenting groups; it has allowed me to create instant publications to display their work. We move from draft to publishing in mutually legible formats. At least It feels like a semblance of a writers workshop, even when we don't have the time for one. And I can laugh now when people desecrate God trying to unjam the copier. I don't stand in line behind the drama department making eighty copies of Oklahoma. I sit on the faculty couch and sip my coffee. It seems less like work. It's actually fun.

I liked that Nancy Atwell tackles the thorny subject of grammar and vocabulary by using the word "convention." It is a nice word, surely meant to appease the traditionalists a'feard of change. "Convention" acknowledges the value and utility of formality. But it's really about just knowing how to write the way they are supposed to write in different situations--again, a basic life skill. She teaches her kids how to write in a variety of genres, and she lets them read a huge amount of books. The acquiring of grammar, syntax and vocabulary is allowed to organically recreate. Kids learn new words; but they are words gleaned from their reading--and they do keep track of them! I wish we would be brave enough to call a spade a spade. We know intuitively--as well as based on research--that teaching grammar is not an effective use of time when learning to write "in your native language." We don't give walking lessons, even as we watch the kids slouch and shuffle through the day.

If I teach my wrestlers a new move, and they do it well in competition the next day, I don't stress out if they don't remember the name of that move. I praise them for using the new move. I thank them for giving a damn and listening to me. Over time they do learn the names of everything I teach as a wrestling coach simply because they are becoming better wrestlers. I'm no grammar slouch, but it is only because the language of grammar made sense to me "after" I had become a decent writer; "after" I spent many years writing out of a passion for self expression. I still go through websites when preparing for a class. I have to smile (because otherwise I wouldn't smile) when I google how to teach something like the active voice--which is an essential tool of a writer; but, I am more confused after my mini internet lesson than when I started. Knowing the ins and outs of grammar is like being as good juggler: impressive at first, but after a while it's not all that impressive; after a while we turn our heads to the high wire act, where somebody is actually putting their life on the line. That's what powerful writing is: putting ourselves on the high wire.

Thinking about all this gets my gander up to make some noise at our professional day on Thursday where we are going to discuss the issues of "time." (though I admit I'll go crazy if i hear phrases like: "We'll take that back to the administrators meeting" or some other black hole of decision making.) The absolute bottom line is that we need more time in upper school to teach writing and reading. We need three double periods a week with one more remedial study hall for the kids who are struggling. If we are going to write across the curriculum we need to separate History from English in the middle school. Even after years of arguments I am not at all convinced they should interweave. English should should teach writing and literature. History should teach history and social studies, with its requisite research and bibliographies--and everything else germane to a historians trade. The same for Science and Math; they should all write in accordance with the more narrow and disciplined requirements of their respective "genres." We shouldn't kill good literature by dragging a good book through a month of winter snows, measuring thoughtfulness with margin notes. There are better and more invigorating ways to demonstrate a true reading of the the text: Socratic seminars, book reviews, journal entries and writing prompts. By the same token you can't read and retain the nuances of history without taking margin notes and without researching multiple sources.

The sun is rising. More kids are plodding their morning grog to this warm room with the fire roaring. Tommy is asleep on the big leather chair, one hand clutching a matchbox car, the other a ski cap. Like always I end my thoughts somewhere in mid-stream. But at least I am wet from this small adventure. I can mow tall grass and rake wet leaves; I can pour cheerios in the waiting bowls; I can drive to soccer, grade papers and squeeze high heels onto Barbies. I can do almost anything today because I have fed myself a few words.

Crazy how it is that simple.