Month: June 2017

Monday finally brings the magic number of nine. Single digits will be left of this school year. It always goes by so fast. Just seems like yesterday that my students were calling me Mr. Stover, and not turning their backs on me, and so on. The good old days.
I get to this time of year and I can’t breathe through my nose. My body still hurts in places where it will not hurt in 10 days. My mind swims with people and ideas about school, at home and in bed. This usually goes away in 10 days, but it’s never been as bad as this year. I don’t believe in medication, but when schedules and programs aren’t resolved with single digits left, I may need to seek it. Yeah, I know. You would have thought, after 18 years at the same school, that I could deal better. When things aren’t resolved, it’s tough.
I always grade myself at the end of the year, too. I don’t think I’ve ever given myself a good grade, despite my stellar attendance. I am pleased what I was able to do with APN (seniors) this year. They are nice kids and I wish them the best. My sophomores (honors) are the same as any year. They’re still young. My regular sophomores teach me something daily. Most of the things they teach me are about myself, about our school, and not necessarily about them. They don’t understand school yet, and I wish I could have done a better job in helping them navigate it.
I wish for a lot of things. I always think that I could solve every education problem really easily and, in theory, I could. But theory usually addresses the past–stock pickers and sports bettors never lose money in the past–and the present always brings change. This year, some of the changes threw me for a loop. My usual zigs did not meet the changing zags.
But it is all the past. Nine days is the present. https://youtu.be/DGFvlnCq-ts

Ah, what a time to be alive.
Senior projects started today, something that APN has been doing since 2002 as a culminating, year-ending, passion-having event. I forget what the standard was before we started this, but now pretty much all the classes do something similar. Some call it a TED talk, but it’s not really one. It’s something at the end of the year where we don’t have to grade a paper. And I don’t mean that in a snarky way–it’s also nice to see kids get up in front of class and showcase their talents.
There was a presentation on therapy dogs, insects, and t-shirt making and marketing. Fun. Kids got to see a video of dogs. They got to be way too close to insects. There were t-shirts. Pretty cool.
The best one, which is not to diminish the others, was the ridiculousness of insects. I guess our student and his dad do this often–they collect bugs, put them in showcases, or just have them around as pets. Some students were mortified, which was cute. Others were fascinated, and moved closer to the action. The kid started off by showing us silk worms. Yawn! How scary is that? However, it was a quick transition to the Madagascar hissing cockroach. It didn’t hiss, but he put in on his hand, as did that creepy old Mrs. Hart. Hey, when you’ve been teaching for as long as we have, what horror can a hissing cockroach be? The whipping scorpion was a nice touch, too.
We’re such losers. Well, at least I am, because I say every year how I want to get students up and doing things, yet time gets away from me and we end up doing something else. So, I’ll put it in writing right now–next year I have to get my students up and speaking and doing things more and more and more. Perhaps the reason they are not invested in what I’m teaching is that they don’t have to do it themselves–we always end up doing it for them.
What will tomorrow bring for projects? I don’t know, which is what keeps me coming back.

I like to remind myself of things. That’s one reason why I’ve posted something on this blog every single teaching day (and then some). Because when you sometimes forget where you are and what you’re doing, you lose focus on the prize. Today was my reminder, and it’s rarely pretty.
I like giving tests. They frustrate students, make them think like they haven’t in years, and are a good indicator of whether kids know something. Since the school year is winding down, and we’ll be left with only senior projects to end the year, I gave my time-tested, tried-and-true four-year cumulative English final. Yep, 56 questions, students’ four years of English. All of the answers being short answer. No true/false or matching–do you know it or don’t you?
Before you call me maniacal or evil, consider the questions. There are 10 from freshman year, 11 from sophomore year, 13 from junior year, and 22 from their senior year, the one I just got done teaching them. I don’t expect them to get a perfect score–far from it, because some of the questions I ask are on books they may not have read, depending on their teachers.
Highest score this year? 38. Lowest score? 3. Average score? 14. Here are some sample questions, in case you thought they might have been hard.
What’s the father’s name in To Kill a Mockingbird? Who wrote that book?
Who wrote the Odyssey?
Romeo comes from what family?
What nationality are the boys in Lord of the Flies? What’s Piggy’s ailment? What is the Lord of the Flies, literally?
In 1984, who is always watching you and loves you?
Who kills Gatsby? Who’s the golf cheat? What event did Wolfsheim fix?
Getting an idea of the questions here? Yeah, some were harder, but there were 56 of them and some students didn’t do so well. As a matter of fact, and data, there were 14 students out of 50 that scored under 10.
Here is the constant reminder–IT DOESN’T MATTER. Do you think your kids are walking around with a wealth of memory about what they’ve been taught? Well, they’re not.
The constant reminder is the way you treat them. That’s what they remember. Older and wiser teachers always tried to remind young teachers of this when I started at North High. I have to admit that I thought of them as filthy hippies–I still respected what they did in the classroom, but good luck with that philosophy, Sugar Magnolia.
Fast forward to my test today. Guess who the filthy hippie is now?

Since many sophomores at our school have been assigned Unbroken, we had a speaker at school today. Luke Zamperini spoke for his dad Louis, and the rest of the Zamperini family, to the sophomore class. They got an hour and a half of him in the gym, complete with a documentary video, a monologue about his father, and a question and answer at the end.
Kids were good. They applauded at the cutest times. They would ask him a question like “Do you have any children?” and they would applaud when he said yes. Weird. He said he was married to his wife for 34 years and they applauded and gave an “aaahhhh.” I know, right?
Luke Zamperini was in his early 60’s, had a nice demeanor, talked about Jesus a bit much, but, if you’ve read Unforgiven, it’s to be understood. And maybe he does this type of speaking all the time, but he came off as a regular guy, which is what I think people took from Louis. I think many people like the book so much just because they somehow feel they resonate with Louis–either as the misfit, the guy that overcame adversity, or the one who forgives. But, man, the dude overcame a little more adversity than most of us.
Jason Mun is a new dude on campus. He teaches English, coaches wrestling. I taught his sister years ago. She married someone who I think I taught, too (where is my pineapple bread, Will Kwan?). I guess he ran into Luke Zamperini, asked him to speak to our school, and made it happen. Just like that.
Sometimes that’s the way it works, people. Which is why you need to learn how to speak. If Jason did not know how to speak, I would have had to teach the last hour and a half of the day. THANKS, man.https://youtu.be/hAzIzmfzN_Q

We sit and wait, teachers do. We wonder if things can get worse. They can. We don’t want to say anything because then we’ll be labeled as complainers, as people who can’t hack it. And, we wait for Superman.
I didn’t know this was an actual term in the Great Depression. Things were so bad in the United States that the savior we created was Superman, a figure so great that he would save us from our problems. It is a nice thought, but I’m looking more on the lines of the plural here, and not just one guy who gets a little woozy once around Kryptonite.
Waiting for Superman was a documentary released in 2010. I remember the title well because one of the local high schools took one of their student-free days to take teachers to see it. I haven’t seen it. I don’t need to because I live it daily. Although, I only live it in the suburbs. I have subbed in Paramount, Downey, ABC, Long Beach, and Los Alamitos school districts. I have taught in Long Beach, Anaheim Union, and Torrance districts. But I haven’t seen it all, I suppose.
There’s a lot of positive talk at our school, in our district, and in social media regarding our new principal, who will start on July 1st. He will be my ninth principal in nineteen years, but new folks always give teachers and students and parents something to look forward to. I don’t know him, personally, but I am happy that my good students like him and my bad students don’t.
I get it–changing a culture is not easy, but we’re talking about a brand here. SaxonStrong is a great, catchy brand. It can happen. Good students want it. Most teachers want it. But one big sticker that says SaxonStrong that sits outside the copy room is the only one I’ve seen. We all want to have a school that kids look forward to attending, and one where parents, faculty, and staff are proud to be associated with.
Look, up in the air!

Today, North High had its annual Chalk Walk, which leads up to our Celebration of the Arts. First off, the art teachers are great and supportive of students. Some of the kids have less-than-stellar talents when it comes to art, but that doesn’t matter. The teachers find something good about the effort and build from there. Yeah, it’s not an essay or writing or a math equation, but there’s something to be said about finding success and building on it.
I wish I had taken a bunch of pictures of what the students produce. The themes don’t really matter, but there was one this year, as there always is–What A Wonderful World. I write that they don’t really matter because once the piece is done, you can justify about any way you want. But, the reason I wish I had taken a bunch of pictures is that students produce really good things. Mind you, these are the bulky pieces of colored chalk you had as a kid, on a beautiful concrete canvas (part of our campus quad, complete with circles of old gum), and some of the art produced is of a high quality.
Hence, a Chalk Walk, outside the library, around the K-Wing, and into the quad that stretches toward the administration building. It’s cool.
When I taught Creative Writing, I had a bunch of good kids and a bunch of kids who were there to make up English credit. However, some of my better writers, when they actually put pen to paper, were the kids who were making up credit. They were creative because they didn’t care about the grade, but about what they wanted to write. I put out a magazine every year with art from North High kids and was always amazed at the wide range of talents kids have. Those mags had students from every type of level in every grade. When I come across one here and there, I’m always reminded of what kids are capable of when given a chance and a canvas.
And I’m not going anywhere with this. Former students will be happy to know that this tradition still continues. The Barnards are always there, Delgado, Russell, encouraging kids, being positive, but letting their students create their yearly, tangible product that not only represents our school’s art program, but the shared efforts of all involved. The adults are the reason it goes so smoothly, but the kids–hundreds of them–are the stars of this day.
Diego Rivera would be proud of this day. Congratulations to everyone. Let’s do it on all our white walls next time. https://youtu.be/yfYZFS7JvT0

I got to teach three greats today.
We finished the movie of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest which, sadly, will be the only interpretation that some of my students saw some of. It’s to be expected, though. Phones and late work and homework from other classes are tough competition. Too bad kids never met Ken Kesey–I did!–because they might have understood why it was, and is, a big deal.
We’re in the process of reading Fahrenheit 451. It’s not hard literature, and it certainly follows the themes of many books we’ve read so far this year. It’s Ray Bradbury, a fellow Angelino, in one of his seminal moments. Plus, I might be able to find the Francois Truffaut movie version that has Julie Christie playing different female roles (she pretty much just changes wigs).
I finished the day with “Harrison Bergeron,” by Kurt Vonnegut. I’m bummed that I didn’t read Cat’s Cradle with my sophomore honors kids, but each year it gets a little tougher for them to understand, or read, or both.
Bradbury finishes last here in my list of literary heroes. Kesey and Vonnegut, though from different circles (or are they really?) are two of my favorites. Despite Vonnegut’s cynicism, he is much like me in his disdain for people because he is surrounded by them. He still loves them, as do I, but when so many surround you, sometimes the good folks get lost among the bad. As for Kesey, he just wanted to wake people up. And Bradbury, he certainly doesn’t need me to state his greatness. He has plenty of works that people will remember forever.
This is what I get to do during my days. I get to talk about great literature, explore great ideas, and banter about the ideas of authors I never got to meet (except Kesey). It’s like a salon every single day, where all my students come prepared and we laugh, discuss, eat cucumber sandwiches, and wonder when our seat at the table will come, or be up. The halcyon days. The greats are looking down (or up) at me as students and I relive it all.
Okay, I was being sarcastic about that last part–the well-oiled salon machine. I’m sorry/not sorry. I’m not going to apologize for loving teaching and talking about great literature and trying to pass that along to today’s youth. I will apologize for failing daily.
What’s the matter with people? I can talk to you about sports, food, travel, pets, spouses, movies, music–a myriad of circles that I can fit in. When it comes to books, though, especially the ones I teach (don’t pull out the semantics of that word), the audience is minimal. I don’t want to throw other teachers under the bus either, as most of them are busy trying to do the same thing I’m trying to do every day–get through it, have the kids learn some stuff, remember the big ideas for another day.
Kesey, Vonnegut, and Bradbury are all dead (though my copy of F 451 still has the author alive because of the age of our books). I would tweet at them if they were still alive, as I do with several other authors and artists. It’s not stalking–it’s an electronic salon. Who knew that Joyce Carol Oates was a huge cat lover? She is, and she posts some great things. Who knew that Bret Easton Elllis . . . gosh, I follow him?
Someone come by and talk to me about Orwell. Someone come by and we’ll talk about what Vonnegut would be doing online. Someone come by and tell me how bad a choice Jack Nicholson was to play R.P. McMurphy, because the character should be bigger and happier.
If no one comes by, I’ll just have to keep typing to myself. Myself to myself, with apologies (not really) to Debora Iyall and Romeo Void. 415!