If I see one more article or advertisement on getting a teaching degree in three seconds flat via the Internet, I might not be responsible for what I do.
Teaching is hard. Period. It is not a nine-to-five leave-your-work-at-work career. It is not just standing up and playing god in the classroom before a captive audience.
It's not about you.
You will never be god-like in the classroom.
You don't know as much as you think you do.
(None of us do, get used to it.)
Yet, these ads, it seems to me, so often portray teaching as easy. A career that allows you control over your own universe and allow you to lift the uninformed and the unenlightened up from the dark depths of wherever the they dwell.
At Seton Hill, the Education Department's standards were rigorous. To start with, you had to be accepted into the program. It wasn't "I'm going to be a teacher, here I am."
If you were not accepted, you did have an option to re-apply. Some did, some didn't. It culled the herd, weeding out the ones who weren't exactly sure about their decision or who believed the lies that teaching is easy and one has summers off. The result, of course, were classrooms of future teachers who took their education seriously.
Once you were accepted, there was the understanding that you would not be sent to student teach if you were perceived as not being ready. I only knew of one young woman who did not go out to student teach, though the reason was never made public. All we could gather from the grapevine was that she "needed to wait."
They would pull you if things were not working out. My former roommate was one of those.
It came down to reputation. The school was not going to send an under-prepared student teacher out there... nor would it send an unprofessional one out there. Period. We were to dress and act the part of the teachers we hoped to become. Period. The young woman with a tattoo around her ankle was forbidden to let it show when she taught. She didn't argue.
I was more then prepared from all theoretical perspectives when I hit the real world. All I needed was the experience that could only come with employment.
So the point of this rant?
We need to re-examine our standards in the world of education. Companies that turn out shoddy materials won't last particularly long, and so the same with education.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
So, what do you think?
Welcome to the first meeting of Teachers Anonymous. My name if Miki L. and I've been asking my students their uncensored opinions for the last three years...
At the end of every term at Seton Hill, I survey my students via e-mail and ask them what they liked, what they didn't like, and how I could improve the class the next time around.
It is heartening to receive the responses. The vast majority of the students take it seriously and answer honestly. It is a compliment to me and the culture that I have crafted in my classroom that they tell me not only the good but also what they think could change and why.
As of late, I've been pondering the whole notion of teacher-student interaction and relationships -- mainly between adults students and their teachers.
I'm not your mother, is a favorite refrain of mine, said at the beginning of each term. I'm not, haven't been, and won't be is more accurate. It's not said in a nasty, sarcastic fashion. It's not said to be flip. It's said because few employers out there are interested in playing mommy to their employees.
You are training to go into specific careers. I'm here to help you improve your communication skills and re-enforce what skills you already possess. Think of this as practice for the professional world. It loses a lot in blog translation, but trust me when I say that it comes across well and the reaction is always positive. Business college students are not in school for theory. They are in school for specific skills and for a career. Period.
My approach is simple: I'll teach you what we need to cover and focus on how you'll apply it in your career. When I promise to teach them what they will use and not teach them lofty and never-used theory, there is nearly an audible sigh of relief. (Remember, readers, I'm the English grammar and intro to psych teacher. I'm the "required for graduation course" teacher. Believe me, when students hear that the "required" stuff has a point, my job becomes infinitely easier ... and the students become infinitely more interested.)
BUT...
There's always a catch.
That's my end of the deal. I need you to do something for me. I need you to come in and act like the professionals you are going to be. I can't do this without your help. In the end, I create a partnership. It's not a friendship. We're not buddies. My goal isn't to get them to like me, and I'm not out to be some hero at the end of the day. I run my classroom like a business: come in, do you work, and -- when possible -- have a little fun.
Then, I do something really crazy. At the end of the term, I survey them.
Two observations have made me think more deeply about the teacher-student relationship.
At the end of every term at Seton Hill, I survey my students via e-mail and ask them what they liked, what they didn't like, and how I could improve the class the next time around.
It is heartening to receive the responses. The vast majority of the students take it seriously and answer honestly. It is a compliment to me and the culture that I have crafted in my classroom that they tell me not only the good but also what they think could change and why.
As of late, I've been pondering the whole notion of teacher-student interaction and relationships -- mainly between adults students and their teachers.
I'm not your mother, is a favorite refrain of mine, said at the beginning of each term. I'm not, haven't been, and won't be is more accurate. It's not said in a nasty, sarcastic fashion. It's not said to be flip. It's said because few employers out there are interested in playing mommy to their employees.
You are training to go into specific careers. I'm here to help you improve your communication skills and re-enforce what skills you already possess. Think of this as practice for the professional world. It loses a lot in blog translation, but trust me when I say that it comes across well and the reaction is always positive. Business college students are not in school for theory. They are in school for specific skills and for a career. Period.
My approach is simple: I'll teach you what we need to cover and focus on how you'll apply it in your career. When I promise to teach them what they will use and not teach them lofty and never-used theory, there is nearly an audible sigh of relief. (Remember, readers, I'm the English grammar and intro to psych teacher. I'm the "required for graduation course" teacher. Believe me, when students hear that the "required" stuff has a point, my job becomes infinitely easier ... and the students become infinitely more interested.)
BUT...
There's always a catch.
That's my end of the deal. I need you to do something for me. I need you to come in and act like the professionals you are going to be. I can't do this without your help. In the end, I create a partnership. It's not a friendship. We're not buddies. My goal isn't to get them to like me, and I'm not out to be some hero at the end of the day. I run my classroom like a business: come in, do you work, and -- when possible -- have a little fun.
Then, I do something really crazy. At the end of the term, I survey them.
Two observations have made me think more deeply about the teacher-student relationship.
- Too many students have remarked that they've never had a teacher ask their opinion so regularly or so formally.
- I've run into a number of professionals out there who view teaching as a me-against-them approach rather than a me-with-them, guiding approach.
Where the "versus" notion comes from, I can only guess -- though I suspect that part of it is a defense mechanism on the part of the teacher.
The challenge, as always, is finding that balance. It's not as simple as handing out a training manual and telling the teacher to read it and find his or her "inner teacher." We can't simply order the teacher to model another. Training the teacher is an on-going process, one that I'm in the process of learning hands-on, first-hand, and face-first.
In May, I moved into the world of teacher observations -- this time from the observer's chair. It's going to be interesting, and I've set the bar rather high for myself. My goal? To be approachable, to be objective, and to not turn into administrators from my past.
I finally picked up and started reading Parker J. Palmer's The Courage to Teach, which I purchased last summer. It's from there that the idea of an "inner teacher" comes.
More to come...
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Dress for Success, Wrinkles Included
As an undergrad and student teacher, it was drilled into me that I had to present a professional appearance at all times. My professional behavior was expected to exceed my professional appearance.
I had no trouble with those mandates. They fit my perfectionist personality to a T. You dress to impress. Dress for the job you want and not the one you have. You dress to set an example for your students. You are to model professionalism.
Last spring and summer, I wore sandals and khakis nearly every single day. I have a toe ring, and -- yes -- I wore it to work. If you walked into my classroom, it was likely that you'd find me sitting on top of one of the tables or in a chair... not standing behind the podium.
Oh, I model professionalism in all other areas. I walk the talk, believe me. It's just that I have simply chosen to wear clothing that wrinkles.
Experience in the world of business colleges has taught me that dressing too professionally can create a barrier that not all students can peer over.
It creates an interesting paradox: I'm to model professionalism visually as well as behaviorally, yet I'm to connect with students who may come from a world where khakis and a polo shirt may be the only affordable "dressy" clothes available.
Where does that leave one, then? Professional or business casual?
'Tis a good question, and I believe that the answer is this: it's HOW you wear what you wear and WHEN you wear it.
HOW and WHEN are judgment calls for your classroom, readers. You have to know your audience, you have to study their reactions.
I can't tell you more then what your mom once said: stand up straight, look'em in the eye, and smile.
I had no trouble with those mandates. They fit my perfectionist personality to a T. You dress to impress. Dress for the job you want and not the one you have. You dress to set an example for your students. You are to model professionalism.
Last spring and summer, I wore sandals and khakis nearly every single day. I have a toe ring, and -- yes -- I wore it to work. If you walked into my classroom, it was likely that you'd find me sitting on top of one of the tables or in a chair... not standing behind the podium.
Oh, I model professionalism in all other areas. I walk the talk, believe me. It's just that I have simply chosen to wear clothing that wrinkles.
Experience in the world of business colleges has taught me that dressing too professionally can create a barrier that not all students can peer over.
It creates an interesting paradox: I'm to model professionalism visually as well as behaviorally, yet I'm to connect with students who may come from a world where khakis and a polo shirt may be the only affordable "dressy" clothes available.
Where does that leave one, then? Professional or business casual?
'Tis a good question, and I believe that the answer is this: it's HOW you wear what you wear and WHEN you wear it.
HOW and WHEN are judgment calls for your classroom, readers. You have to know your audience, you have to study their reactions.
I can't tell you more then what your mom once said: stand up straight, look'em in the eye, and smile.
Monday, February 11, 2008
A "paws" in the action
Pardon the pun, readers, but it was irrestible given the title of this blog...
Things are getting busy here -- way busy. I've in the home stretch with my novel and need to let something go. Work itself not being an option, this blog is now on hiatus. (Now I can lose the guilt for not keeping this up-to-date and not fret about the six half-finished blogs I have sitting in the archives!)
The March 29 deadline is really far away yet fast approaching -- in the last four days, I rewrote the entire "a-ha!" moment where my protagonist sovles the murder, deleted an entire supporting character, and decided to move one scene to the other end of the state.
For those who are wondering just WHAT the novel's about, I'm going to let the title give you a hint: Killing Julie.
For those who want more, two excerpts:
From Chapter 4 (enter the love interest)
“Nice scarf.”
“Excuse me?” The chill in her voice was expected, and she didn’t even bother to glance up. Rory
Shanguessy Brooks was not known for her willingness to tolerate interruptions, particularly when under the gun for a deadline. The article before her was due in two hours and the man they hired barely two weeks ago had quit after one week – after Rory had rewritten his work and called it trite, banal, and insipid. In that order.
”I was just admiring your scarf. Not a lot of women wear them nowadays.”
She finally looked up, peering over the wire rims of her glasses and studying the intruder.
”Cayden Ransome, at your service.”
“Rory Cullers,” she said, giving her pen name.
“I know.”
She wasn’t making this easy for him, but – then again – from everything he’d heard, this was classic Rory. A few other staffers had been more then willing to tell him about the woman he was about to share space with. She’s the office ice princess. Comes to work and goes right home. Don’t expect her to be social unless it’s work-related and she can get something out of it. Sorry to hear your desk is next to hers. She’s acerbic, to say the least, and she’ll tear your work to shreds – the problem is that she’s always right. Everything she touches turns to gold. Why the hell is she working here, anyway?
Rory was – justly or unjustly – rumored to be as temperamental as they came when it came to writing. She didn’t tolerate games or suffer fools. There were a dozen stories of her sharp tongue and right-to-the-point remarks, and Cade heard several of those stories within the first few hours of his hire and before he met her.
She was openly studying him now, taking in his dark eyes and the laugh lines the surrounded them. He was six feet easily and was, without a doubt, well-defined. He looked like he spent sunny days on the greens and the rainy ones in the gym. He probably wintered at Seven Springs on the slopes. Probably another jock who majored in communications because it wouldn’t interfere with sports.
“And you’re here because...?” He was taking too long to get to the point, and she had work to do.
“Oh, yeah, forgive me. Seems that I’m you’re new desk-mate,” he said looking at their respective desks that were pushed head-to-head and wondering just what this job was going to bring. Who designed this crawl-space of an office anyway? It looked like the rejected set of The Daily Planet’s office space in a 1970’s Superman flick. What the hell had he been thinking to take this job at some no-name publication? The last thing he needed was some to sit across from some antagonistic writer who had the reputation of a pit bull.
From Chapter 24 (enter the killer)
Lesson one, never argue with a man.
Rory was about to learn her lesson, too. With Julie he hadn’t been as thorough and she had turned on him in the end. He wouldn’t make the same mistake with this one. “Rory, time to come out and play,” he whispered, letting the anticipation build as he mounted the steps, each tread bringing him closer to his prize.
She’d be ready for him, he knew. She’d probably have some clever little plan to hit him again, render him unable to stop her as she ran again.
In his hand was the switchblade that he’d hidden at the bottom of the picnic basket. Just in case. He thought that this would be a nice change from his other approaches. Eventually, of course, he’d find something that he liked best. Shooting was too impersonal, too noisy. Strangulation was no fun, at least not when you were behind the victim. But a knife. Now a knife required up-close and personal involvement.
“Rory, it’s time to come out and play,” and he laughed once more. How good to be prepared.
Things are getting busy here -- way busy. I've in the home stretch with my novel and need to let something go. Work itself not being an option, this blog is now on hiatus. (Now I can lose the guilt for not keeping this up-to-date and not fret about the six half-finished blogs I have sitting in the archives!)
The March 29 deadline is really far away yet fast approaching -- in the last four days, I rewrote the entire "a-ha!" moment where my protagonist sovles the murder, deleted an entire supporting character, and decided to move one scene to the other end of the state.
For those who are wondering just WHAT the novel's about, I'm going to let the title give you a hint: Killing Julie.
For those who want more, two excerpts:
From Chapter 4 (enter the love interest)
“Nice scarf.”
“Excuse me?” The chill in her voice was expected, and she didn’t even bother to glance up. Rory
Shanguessy Brooks was not known for her willingness to tolerate interruptions, particularly when under the gun for a deadline. The article before her was due in two hours and the man they hired barely two weeks ago had quit after one week – after Rory had rewritten his work and called it trite, banal, and insipid. In that order.
”I was just admiring your scarf. Not a lot of women wear them nowadays.”
She finally looked up, peering over the wire rims of her glasses and studying the intruder.
”Cayden Ransome, at your service.”
“Rory Cullers,” she said, giving her pen name.
“I know.”
She wasn’t making this easy for him, but – then again – from everything he’d heard, this was classic Rory. A few other staffers had been more then willing to tell him about the woman he was about to share space with. She’s the office ice princess. Comes to work and goes right home. Don’t expect her to be social unless it’s work-related and she can get something out of it. Sorry to hear your desk is next to hers. She’s acerbic, to say the least, and she’ll tear your work to shreds – the problem is that she’s always right. Everything she touches turns to gold. Why the hell is she working here, anyway?
Rory was – justly or unjustly – rumored to be as temperamental as they came when it came to writing. She didn’t tolerate games or suffer fools. There were a dozen stories of her sharp tongue and right-to-the-point remarks, and Cade heard several of those stories within the first few hours of his hire and before he met her.
She was openly studying him now, taking in his dark eyes and the laugh lines the surrounded them. He was six feet easily and was, without a doubt, well-defined. He looked like he spent sunny days on the greens and the rainy ones in the gym. He probably wintered at Seven Springs on the slopes. Probably another jock who majored in communications because it wouldn’t interfere with sports.
“And you’re here because...?” He was taking too long to get to the point, and she had work to do.
“Oh, yeah, forgive me. Seems that I’m you’re new desk-mate,” he said looking at their respective desks that were pushed head-to-head and wondering just what this job was going to bring. Who designed this crawl-space of an office anyway? It looked like the rejected set of The Daily Planet’s office space in a 1970’s Superman flick. What the hell had he been thinking to take this job at some no-name publication? The last thing he needed was some to sit across from some antagonistic writer who had the reputation of a pit bull.
From Chapter 24 (enter the killer)
Lesson one, never argue with a man.
Rory was about to learn her lesson, too. With Julie he hadn’t been as thorough and she had turned on him in the end. He wouldn’t make the same mistake with this one. “Rory, time to come out and play,” he whispered, letting the anticipation build as he mounted the steps, each tread bringing him closer to his prize.
She’d be ready for him, he knew. She’d probably have some clever little plan to hit him again, render him unable to stop her as she ran again.
In his hand was the switchblade that he’d hidden at the bottom of the picnic basket. Just in case. He thought that this would be a nice change from his other approaches. Eventually, of course, he’d find something that he liked best. Shooting was too impersonal, too noisy. Strangulation was no fun, at least not when you were behind the victim. But a knife. Now a knife required up-close and personal involvement.
“Rory, it’s time to come out and play,” and he laughed once more. How good to be prepared.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Keep on Counting
I found a new counter, www.Statcounter.com seems to answer my tracking needs nicely. I like the detail it provides on visitors, return visits, length of visits, etc. Much more detailed. :)
Friday, January 18, 2008
The other n-word: n**se.
So the editor of Golfweek got canned for putting a noose on the cover of the recent edition.
Okay, I have to ask: WHY fire him?
Now, before you light the torch and hunt me down for not beating my breast over the implications of a noose, give me a minute.
It all started when PGA anchor Kelly Tilghman said that the younger golfers should perhaps "lynch [Tiger Woods] in a back alley." Not smart. Not smart at all. Not particularly funny, either.
She got two weeks "vacation" for her uneducated, un-PC remark.
Dave Seanor got a "permanent vacation" from his post as editor for a visual representation of her stupidity. For those who haven't seen the cover, it is a picture of a noose with the caption Caught in a Noose: Tilghman slips up and Golf Channel can't wiggle free.
That was it. A picture of a noose. No body. Not Tilghman's, not Tiger's, not even a personified version of the Golf Channel.
Why wasn't she fired?
Maybe I'm missing something here, but quote that started it all invovled a noose. That's why it inspired the cover. I know the history of lynching in the U.S. and how it was a method of the Klan and how you simply do not use "lynch" in reference to a black man or woman. I know that. I know the emotional connotation. I understand the ways that a noose can be offensive, don't worry there.
What gets me is that it's not a cover advocating lynching. Tilghman spoke and put the proverbial noose around her own neck -- as well as the Golf Channel's. The magazine cover uses the noose in reference to the reaction that her words garnered, not to advocate her idea. Firing Seanor seems rather over-the-top, considering his visual use of a noose versus her verbal visual.
I can feel the noose of PC-ness and hyper-sensitivity closing in around those of us who ply our trade with the pen. If you didn't know already, I freelance in my free time. Since I write for pay, I have to weigh my words so that they keep both the readers happy as well as those who sign my checks.
It is a given that you have to make certain assumptions about your audience when you write. You make assumptions about their education level, their background, their reading level. Whenever possible, you ground those assumptions in fact with your research. Demographics, demo-geographics, psychographics, etc... you know the litany, I suspect.
Seanor probably made the assumption that his readers and advertisers would understand his literary use of the noose. His bad.
So you make assumptions. Sometimes you make mistakes. I've always thought it was interesting how we tend to punish those in society who show evidence of thinking... particularly when the thinking elicits a sense of discomfort within us. (Harkens back to middle school when we picked on the smart kid for being smart and making us look less smart, doesn't it?)
Why was he expelled for his attempt to address an issue while she was only has to miss recess for a few days? That's really what I keep coming back to. What rule did he break that was worse then what could be taken as -- intentional or not -- a racial slur?
I suppose the point is that picture is worth a thousand words, but words are worth only two weeks.
(Just for the record, I'd love to know just who the loudest detractors were. I would put my next paycheck on this one: some of the loudest were the least familiar with the whole issue. I would bet that a slew of complaints came from those whose reaction was knee-jerk: I see, I judge, I complain. Research to understand? Don't have the time! It's a noose, dammit!)
(Such complaints, if I may go off topic for a moment, remind me of the time a parent complained because a a high school Spanish teacher's substitute teacher was Cuban... and "how can you expect these children to learn Spanish when she speaks Cuban?!" Yeah, makes your head hurt, doesn't it?)
Let's play Devil's Advocate. There are some things I don't know about the topic. Maybe the article itself is offensive and I simply don't understand golf well enough to know it. Maybe Seanor has a history and this was the last straw. Maybe he put a picture of a chicken on the cover in 1997 when champion Fuzzy Zoeller made his fried chicken comment after Woods' first victory. Maybe not.
What does this mean for future public forums? If I publish a picture of a noose in this blog, I may not be able to fire myself... but can Blogger take my account away for being offensive and cite The Tilghman Tightrope, a.k.a. walking the fine line between being verbally and visually offensive, as its incentive? What precedent does this set for publications? Do they have to walk that tightrope now or risk being boo'd off the newsstands?
I'm not sure if it means anything. Perhaps it's a mole hill blown into a mountain by the Internet. We'll probably forget all about it in a week or two and he'll quietly get a new job. After all, editors and discussions on what is and is not a racial issue are just, like, so not interesting. Not when Brit was spotted buying a pregnancy test this week...
Okay, I have to ask: WHY fire him?
Now, before you light the torch and hunt me down for not beating my breast over the implications of a noose, give me a minute.
It all started when PGA anchor Kelly Tilghman said that the younger golfers should perhaps "lynch [Tiger Woods] in a back alley." Not smart. Not smart at all. Not particularly funny, either.
She got two weeks "vacation" for her uneducated, un-PC remark.
Dave Seanor got a "permanent vacation" from his post as editor for a visual representation of her stupidity. For those who haven't seen the cover, it is a picture of a noose with the caption Caught in a Noose: Tilghman slips up and Golf Channel can't wiggle free.
That was it. A picture of a noose. No body. Not Tilghman's, not Tiger's, not even a personified version of the Golf Channel.
Why wasn't she fired?
Maybe I'm missing something here, but quote that started it all invovled a noose. That's why it inspired the cover. I know the history of lynching in the U.S. and how it was a method of the Klan and how you simply do not use "lynch" in reference to a black man or woman. I know that. I know the emotional connotation. I understand the ways that a noose can be offensive, don't worry there.
What gets me is that it's not a cover advocating lynching. Tilghman spoke and put the proverbial noose around her own neck -- as well as the Golf Channel's. The magazine cover uses the noose in reference to the reaction that her words garnered, not to advocate her idea. Firing Seanor seems rather over-the-top, considering his visual use of a noose versus her verbal visual.
I can feel the noose of PC-ness and hyper-sensitivity closing in around those of us who ply our trade with the pen. If you didn't know already, I freelance in my free time. Since I write for pay, I have to weigh my words so that they keep both the readers happy as well as those who sign my checks.
It is a given that you have to make certain assumptions about your audience when you write. You make assumptions about their education level, their background, their reading level. Whenever possible, you ground those assumptions in fact with your research. Demographics, demo-geographics, psychographics, etc... you know the litany, I suspect.
Seanor probably made the assumption that his readers and advertisers would understand his literary use of the noose. His bad.
So you make assumptions. Sometimes you make mistakes. I've always thought it was interesting how we tend to punish those in society who show evidence of thinking... particularly when the thinking elicits a sense of discomfort within us. (Harkens back to middle school when we picked on the smart kid for being smart and making us look less smart, doesn't it?)
Why was he expelled for his attempt to address an issue while she was only has to miss recess for a few days? That's really what I keep coming back to. What rule did he break that was worse then what could be taken as -- intentional or not -- a racial slur?
I suppose the point is that picture is worth a thousand words, but words are worth only two weeks.
(Just for the record, I'd love to know just who the loudest detractors were. I would put my next paycheck on this one: some of the loudest were the least familiar with the whole issue. I would bet that a slew of complaints came from those whose reaction was knee-jerk: I see, I judge, I complain. Research to understand? Don't have the time! It's a noose, dammit!)
(Such complaints, if I may go off topic for a moment, remind me of the time a parent complained because a a high school Spanish teacher's substitute teacher was Cuban... and "how can you expect these children to learn Spanish when she speaks Cuban?!" Yeah, makes your head hurt, doesn't it?)
Let's play Devil's Advocate. There are some things I don't know about the topic. Maybe the article itself is offensive and I simply don't understand golf well enough to know it. Maybe Seanor has a history and this was the last straw. Maybe he put a picture of a chicken on the cover in 1997 when champion Fuzzy Zoeller made his fried chicken comment after Woods' first victory. Maybe not.
What does this mean for future public forums? If I publish a picture of a noose in this blog, I may not be able to fire myself... but can Blogger take my account away for being offensive and cite The Tilghman Tightrope, a.k.a. walking the fine line between being verbally and visually offensive, as its incentive? What precedent does this set for publications? Do they have to walk that tightrope now or risk being boo'd off the newsstands?
I'm not sure if it means anything. Perhaps it's a mole hill blown into a mountain by the Internet. We'll probably forget all about it in a week or two and he'll quietly get a new job. After all, editors and discussions on what is and is not a racial issue are just, like, so not interesting. Not when Brit was spotted buying a pregnancy test this week...
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Any Suggestions?
After running a scan on my computer, I found a tracking cookie that had been installed by my site meter. I removed the meter from both this and Simply Sentenced, but would like to put a new one in. Preferably one that doesn't install secret code.
Does anyone have any suggestions?
Does anyone have any suggestions?
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