It’s the first day of school, and there’s already a crowd of students gathered when I arrive. I told the seniors to arrive at the Student Center by 8:30 AM, so that we, their class sponsors, could organize the flag carrying procession for Opening Ceremonies. Punctuality has never been the strong suit of this group,…
Tag: students
Long Distance
I’m sitting out in the long-expected sunshine, a stack of Honors American Literature exams on my lap. I’m reading them, marking them, but slowly. I keep getting distracted. A senior is heading off to Scotland in the fall, and he perches on a bench long enough to talk about summer jobs in America and the…
Last Words, Not Famous
The squeals of accomplishment and relief fill the air as the final bell rings on the last day of school. Finals still loom, but that’s all the way after the weekend. Until then, my juniors can bask in the accomplishment of their penultimate year of school. As has become tradition, I’ve written them a letter,…
Word Choice
Me: Do you want to play a game at the end of class? Students: Is it a vocabulary game? Me: Of course it is. Let’s be honest, pretty much all my games are vocabulary games. We’ve been working on college essays for a while now in eleventh grade American Literature class. It’s a useful way to…
Entangling Details, Words of Worth
Wednesday afternoon, I’m missing track practice to finish up final details for Friday’s Junior-Senior Banquet. It has traditionally been the responsibility of the junior class to fundraise and then plan this event, BFA’s version of prom. (And by “junior class,” I mean about a third of the juniors, two endlessly hardworking class officers and ten…
We Didn’t Always Live in Kandern
As often happens, I have words stuck in my head. These ones aren’t the common song lyrics, though. I’m the only person I know who is haunted by lines of prose. “We didn’t always live on Mango Street.” Those used to be first words I read to my students, back at Ingraham, nine thousand miles…
On Surprises
We’re sitting in a rectangle of desks on Friday afternoon, ready for Round Two of poetry presentations in American Literature class. Yesterday, the class was a showcase of teenaged creativity. I’ve arranged their projects on the low bookshelf that runs along the back of the room: a model village to illustrate E.E. Cummings’s “anyone lived…
Home is Wherever I’m With You
Brother Tom nodded understandingly. “It’s the memories, the old loyalties; they are so precious,” he said. “Things that meant so much, that stay present in the wood and stone of a place. If you let go of the place and the things that belong to it, you feel afraid that you’ll lose hold of the…
English Teacher Neverland
“I mean, if you have to spend almost all of your money on something–” I begin. “–it should probably be a book,” he cuts me off with a solemn nod. “Exactly.” Honors American Literature, Winter 2013 I remember the war between kids and reading. It was a Genesis 3-style feud: And I shall put enmity between teenagers and…
“Worth The Sadness”
I know that it’s English teacher heresy, but I find Dead Poets Society impossibly sad. Peter Weir’s 1989 film has become a personal classic, falling into the genre of “teacher movies” that I consume with the same emotional voracity that some men I know attach to sports or war movies. I love these movies, and watch them…
The Way Home 