Month: March 2017

Ah, the march through March. It’s not the prettiest month when considering education from the teachers’ points of view. There are no holidays, yet many late starts. There are no student-free days, but, this year, we got to have WASC come, which I hear was great, since I’ve never seen them. Ever. Been there 18 years–never seen WASC. Hey, I can find a rubric online. Send them my way and we’ll synthesize and annotate with the best of them.
There are 53 days left, yet this is the end of the quarter today. If the quarter is half the semester, then the semester would be 106 days. Since our school year is only 180 days . . .
But I digress.
March is a wonderful opportunity to spend a month with students and see their progress as we get time to teach them with only the pesky interruption of weekends. It’s a time to gauge their abilities and coordinate and align with them in an attempt to better everyone involved. It’s the month of multi-cultural days, where we realize that our cultures are all in this together, that many share similar histories, and that, even though it may not jive with our current beliefs, we should be tolerant, at the very least.
March is also the time when great students get rejected and wait-listed to colleges and universities while watching lesser students get into the same schools. No rhyme or reason to the selection processes. Universities don’t have to say why you didn’t make the cut–you just didn’t make the cut while someone who isn’t as good as you did. A fact of life. Good to learn it now so you can be prepared for future disappointments.
I try to read and do work in March. We read so many books and poems and wrote essays and poems and open letters and TESTS (scary, right?). March lets students do the thing they need the most–practice. I tried assignments that failed miserably. Practice. I trotted out assignments that had always been adored in the past, but now were not so much loved. Practice.
Let’s put it simply, for all teachers (and maybe some students) to understand. If every month were like March–a month filled with only days of school and no holidays–we would all be out in early May. That’s a tune most of us could march to these days.

The good–I started my day with a breakfast burrito, which was tasty.
The rest–I talked with a mother of one of my students. There were several occasions where I apologized to her for the behavior of other adults on campus. I felt like crying with her.
There was a poetry test involved. That will go fine, gradewise, because it was pretty easy by my standards. Students worry over and over about a missed point here and there–they never worry about what they’re learning.
My last class has an argumentative essay due tomorrow. They have all these opinions, they argue all the time, I made the paper worth a ton, and incentivized it even more if they did a decent job. My fingers are crossed.
The rest is personal, and though I try to be fairly transparent in the classroom, on this blog, and in general, some things are too heavy to put into words.

That’s the best a Thursday is going to get.

Yesterday I posted a video of Geno Auriemma talking about the kind of athlete he recruits for UConn’s women’s team. It’s great–you can find it anywhere on the YouTube circuit.
But that’s about the athlete. What about the student? If old Betsy DeVos gets her way and every school becomes a voucher school, don’t even think they won’t have a selection process for students. Many will want to go to those “better” schools, but somehow/someway there will be students who don’t make the cut.
My wife and I have often kidded about starting Stover High School (we have no mascot name yet). Who would we let in? What kind of student would we want to attract? The answer is SO easy, but we often forget, as we are swayed by personality and style.
–We want kids with intellectual curiosity. You know, kids who want to learn stuff.
–We want to know what books are on their shelves, what music is on their playlists.
–We want to meet their parents so we could see if we were going to be thought of as babysitters or teachers. When parents drop their kids off late EVERY day at school, you can only blame so much on the student.
–Passions? Overrated. Potential? Ridiculous. Give us the kid who gets it done, because we’ve had tons of kids with passions and potential, student who gave us hope for the future, but nothing ended up getting done. Happens every year.
The list could go on. Simple, right? You’d be surprised. Because I bought into the idea of a PLC long ago. Professional, learning community. It’s community that has everyone winning. It’s a daily battle of tardies, cheating, work getting done, reading.
There’s a quote that makes me sad every time I think of it. Chief Joseph–“I will fight no more forever.” You could call it his speech of surrender. Makes me sad every time.

There’s a great video of Geno Auriemma making the rounds on social media. It’s a big deal. If you didn’t know, Geno Auriemma is also a big deal. He coaches the women’s side of the Connecticut Huskies basketball teams. He and his teams have also won 111 games in a row. Not a typo.
You can check out that video HERE.
It’s somewhat similar to the video found in Hoosiers, which is HERE. The player that wants to go in was benched previously for his attitude and, even though it meant only having four players on the floor, the coach kept the player with the attitude on the bench. Tear.
Metaphorically speaking, this is what most people just don’t seem to understand. If they understood, then entitlement wouldn’t be used so often when describing today’s youth.
I have taught at the same school for 18 years. Some of those years were filled with a morning commute on the 405. That written, I have never been late to school. Yeah, there have been a handful of days where I came to school late, but I had something to do AND didn’t have a first period.
Today was a late start. One room close to mine had 18 of 34 kids in the room by that 8:50 bell, which is 50 minutes later than the regular days. Another room close to mine had 19 of 29 in the room by that same time. 26 kids not ready at the start of school, yet most trickled in by the end of the period. That was in two classes. Kids everywhere on the campus, no attempt to hustle–they’ll get to class when they get to class.
We’ve locked doors in the past. Shut gates. Yelled. Sent out notifications. Over and over. Tried to incentivize. I would blame our school for not caring, but that’s not the case. Teachers are in their rooms waiting for a class to teach and we just don’t have enough people on campus to corral everyone. And if you think I’ve got this great answer, then you better keep thinking.
But I go back to that Geno Auriemma video, and I know we can’t select All-Americans like he can. However, he didn’t always have All-Americans at his disposal. He didn’t even make the post-season tourney for his first three years. But he was building a brand. He won 12 games his first year,lost 15. He went 14-13 the next, and 17-11 the next. He has never missed the tourney since, AND had six perfect seasons. He built a brand, people came, everyone was happy (or they sat).
This year, his team needs to win two more games to have a perfect season and win yet another championship. It may not always be easy, but the results certainly outweigh any negatives.

I usually model assignments for my students. One of my favorites was the personal statement I wrote about black licorice. Yeah, I know, it’s gross and no one likes it, but everyone has had that wonderful anise-flavored treat in their mouth, in some form or another. It’s the underdog, the candy people pass over, the one they pick out of a jelly bean mix, but it’s still around for some reason. And once, long ago, I found a way to write about black licorice as thus, all the while tying myself into its greatness.
Students have a hard time with personal statements because, well, they’re statements. They’re not an essay. No hamburger on anyone’s board is going to help them out here with claim and evidence. It’s a statement–something you might give the police after seeing an accident.
“Sir, can I get a statement on what happened here?”
“Yes you can, officer. You see, driving is an experience shared by many in this great land. From two-lane country roads to the seven-lanes-across 405 freeway, everyone who’s gotten behind the wheel has a story to tell.”
That’s all swell, but it’s an introduction to an essay. A statement has to hit the ground running and tell what needs to be told. I want to see some action.
I just graded many argumentative editorials this weekend. The assignment was not even mine–The New York Times gives it every year as a chance for young people to have an editorial, argumentative opinion and get it done in 450 or less. They offer 401 topics, a link to the guidelines, a link to last year’s winners, and their rubric. It’s all there, so there was no model from me.
Their papers were less than stellar. I told them over and over that they are teenagers, that the editorial, though argumentative, is still THEIR claim, and could be backed with what THEY have to say. Their papers were timid.
Their writing was fine, but there was nothing holding a reader to the words. No tension. No action. And very little of them. Most were hard to finish and didn’t offer much once there.
We talked about it today. My students just have it in their heads that they can’t write about themselves, conditioned for years to write a certain way that appeases teachers who don’t write. I am so tired of hearing, “Our teacher told us we couldn’t use I,” but I keep hearing it. The prompt can literally have “Feel free to use examples from your personal life and experience,” but, to them, it might as well read “Don’t you dare. Anyone who does is defying a former teacher.”
So, no one was bold. No one took a chance. Some cool topics, but it ended up just being words on a page. In the end, we chalked it up to practice, which is really important. I came home, finished a box of Good and Plenty (no lie), and wrote this.
No matter how mundane that last sentence was, at least it had action. Plus, I was part of that action. Perhaps you saw me shoving pink and white Good and Plenty into my mouth. Practice. However, I only have 57 more days with them. More practice.

My sophomores met with their counselors today to register for next year’s classes. Here were their choices for English–AP Language, English 3, Online English 3. That’s it. Either you are a superstar student who takes AP classes, or you are in a regular English class, either in seats or online. There are around 120 students this year in AP Language, making one out of every four kids in our school’s junior class an AP student.
The rest of the kids are in English 3 and Online English 3. It is considered College-Prep because every class is considered College-Prep. Athenians. We will produce art and revel in the Humanties. Lend me your lute so I can sing songs with Sting.
Well, that’s great, and all, but what do you do with the 30 (maybe 40) kids out of 100 that did not put anything down for their career goal on the top of their registration paper. It was a big blank space, right above their names, so it was pretty hard to miss. Career Goal_______________________________.
I get it, too. They’re 15 to 16, still only sophomores in school, and a career goal might be so far from their realm of thinking right now. That’s the positive, unrealistic answer.
Here’s the reality–remember when you were asked this question years ago? You were asked it from first grade through high school. Ever leave it blank?https://youtu.be/hLlTnvepqQ4

Coldplay has a new song out. It’s called “Hypnotised,” and is about as exciting as anything you could think of from Coldplay. I’ll give a few kinda-kudos. It sounds like Coldplay because, over the years, they have established a certain style. You don’t need someone telling you this is the new song by the group.
But that’s where it ends. The song doesn’t challenge anything in particular–there seems to be no particular purpose for it other than to have Coldplay with a new single. On the surface, it’s a song that moves along well enough, but it’s nothing new from them. The lyrics are nebulous–it’s dark, but now there’s a sunrise? I suppose leaving things open for suggestion lets people fill in blanks that fit themselves.
Chris Martin still sings. I know no other band member. Gone are those days when bands who played instruments were easily known by name.
I doubt there will be many posts about how great the new Coldplay single is.
However, they will sell out the Rose Bowl. Parking will be 40 bucks and tickets will be much much much more than that. You will be in Pasadena, watching Chris Martin and the other guys in Coldplay. But you will see them on the Jumbotron, because you only paid 100 bucks for a seat, which further distances you from any emotional connection to the music.
Coldplay is the number one band in the world. If you judge a band (ones that play instruments) based on record sales and concert ticket sales, they are number one. It’s not anyone else. Their number one because they’re safe, they’re easy to recognize on the radio, and you know that Chris Martin married Gwyneth Paltrow. There are no b*&((*&(Qs killing anyone’s vibe here–just music to park your car to, music to listen to while you pour half-and-half into your morning coffee.
And there’s the rub. If this is what resonates with people, then people have become too comfortable. AH, the metaphor. We ARE the guy pouring half-and-half into our coffee, but if we miss and it spills onto our granite countertops, we take a paper towel we bought in bulk at Costco and wipe it up. Because we have become comfortable, we don’t care about what music we listen to in our cars when we drive to work.
Dude, Chris Martin, you named your kid APPLE! That’s a bold move, man. How about making a similar statement with your music? Oh, and while you’re at it, my students have an argumentative paper due tomorrow. So, um, can you write some edgier songs so all their papers don’t sound like your new single? If not, we’ll see your band again at the Super Bowl, I’m sure, surrounded by other artists that shift our focus.
Shifting focus to others is not what I try to teach when it comes to writing. There’s a big stack of papers–how does your paper stand out?
Sometimes you read entire essays because they are so good. Sometimes you scan the body because you know the path. The same goes with songs. Submitted for your approval.

I could ask that of a lot of people in education–are you proud? There would be a few more words added to each of the questions, like “Are you proud of the weeds growing wild in all the planters? or, “Are you proud of all the mistakes found on your board for students to look at every day?” I could go on being petty and mean, but that’s not productive.
We got an email yesterday that claimed the WASC committee had North High ticking off the right boxes. Random kids were asked questions on whether they had a person to go at school if there was a problem, and I believe every kid does, as did they. They were asked if the school was safe, and they said yes, which is very much true until a fight breaks out here and there. But the weird question asked–and maybe it was the way the email was written–was whether students were proud of their teachers. Huh? Proud of me?
We went to WASC meetings before they came and were apprised of what they were looking for. There was talk about data, and how we look at it. There was what we wanted students to learn and what we did when they didn’t learn it. But nowhere did we consider that students should be proud of us. And, once again, maybe that’s just the language and doesn’t mean what I’m inferring, but caring if kids are proud of me never enters my mind.
Sure, I want students to respect me, listen to me, try when doing their work–heck, just DO their work–read a book, have an opinion, give evidence to that opinion, be a good citizen, etc. Okay, yeah, I want students to be proud of me for writing every day of school, but not many of them are privy to my posts. If I catch a kick-ass fish that tests my tackle and strength, I not only want them to be proud, but a little jealous as well. If I took in a former student because she needed a place to stay and didn’t charge that former student any money so she could save up for college in the Fall, they are allowed to be proud of that.
But I teach. It’s my job. Really? Should we hear, “Good job, Mr. Stover. Very proud of the way you put that lesson together”? That’s not going to happen. I don’t even get Thank-you letters for reading personal statements or writing recommendations.
I’m proud of myself for writing every day. But teaching is my job, which I take pride in. Maybe that was the question in the first place–Do your teachers take pride in their jobs? If that was the case . . . never mind.

Kevin Spacey says it best HERE. WASC came on Monday, they are gone on Tuesday, and an email from one of our administrators says that our school did great.
In my 18 years at school, WASC has been there at least three or four times. I’ve never seen them. Not once did I ever meet one WASC member. I’ve taught Honors English for all these years, APN has been a 43-year-old program that a third of the senior class signs up for, yet I’ve had no contact. Oh, well, I probably should have sought them out if I wanted to meet them.
Today was one of those days that was good for a while–I talked Cry, The Beloved Country with my students. Some of them acted like they read the book. So that was fun.
At lunch, though, I got to hear that this book offers nothing about the real world, or at least the world of science that a student wants to enter. Perhaps he’s right.
And then email comes, a reminder that Gillian Hart and I will have to jump through many hoops if we want APN to remain at school.
Tomorrow is day 120 (out of 180). As a student said the other day, “We’re halfway there.” No, I will not put a video up of “Living on a Prayer.” Sing it to yourself.

How did I know WASC was here today? Was it the emails that read of their return to evaluate our school? Sure. Was it the late starts where we’ve been prepping for this day where they would check up on what we’ve been doing lately? Could be. Was it the fact that we all knew WASC would be here today? Well, yeah. But the easy way for anyone to know about the arrival was I had a harder time parking today. Sure, I got there well before first period–my usual time, even though I don’t have a first-period class–but all my usual parking spots were gone.
It just means our teachers want to look good on this day. But, no one was in the parking lot keeping track of who got here when. And, after the tardy bell for first period, I could easily spot a class where a teacher had not shown up yet (maybe that class had a sub–I hear we have a shortage of them). Our students played along like it was any ordinary day, loping to class and walking like zombies down hallways while staring, mouth agape, at their ever-important cell phones.
I’m not sure how big a deal our WASC visit is. They were here three years ago and gave us good reviews. Our current principal was around back then. None of the assistant principals were here. In previous posts, I’ve detailed how many teachers have come and gone, especially in the last few years. Usually when it’s a big-deal, official WASC visit, I know because I get the privilege of reading our report before it goes out, making sure it reads well and isn’t rife with mistakes. I was not asked this year, which could mean a few things.
One of the things that bothered me today was how dirty our campus is. When you throw a party at your house, or have people over for something, you clean up. At least I do. Our planters are overgrown with weeds from the recent rains. Trash is strewn in these same planters. Gum spots are everywhere. Papers are on the ground, some ripped from the walls, some just papers that are on the ground.
I asked my students if there was any club that cleaned up the planters, but no one knew, or just didn’t feel like telling me. One of my students, to make JROTC look nice for our WASC visit, cleaned out the planters located near JROTC by herself. Well, yeah.
It’s too late to tidy up everything for tomorrow, especially since school is out. BUT, Gillian Hart and I will ask the higher-ups if it’s okay for APN to clean the planters during school when we have our half-classes this week–Wednesdays and Thursdays, when the other half is tutoring at the elementary school next door. One simple “Yes” will get it done.
Sometimes, during the school year, you get a little tired and lose focus. Sometimes, it takes something to snap that focus back. And, if you let weeds go unattended, they just keep growing and growing, until they obscure and hinder the growth of the actual plants. Such an easy fix, pulling weeds, but also the pride of making something look better has to fit into Common Core somewhere. All you need is someone to notice and want tangible results.
Plus, who doesn’t like a good Before/After montage?