Author: revotstover@yahoo.com

There’s been a huge push lately in public education for students to attend four-year colleges. Now that may not seem like a big deal, except the push is for students to enter four-year colleges right out of high school. And that’s where some teachers have an issue, including me.
There was data not many years ago that I will never believe. I just have seen too many success stories to make me think the numbers are correct. It went along these lines–for every 100 students that enters a junior college with the intent on attending a four-year university, only four percent made it to that level. That’s right. Four kids out of every hundred kids with INTENT to transfer. Seems a little hard to believe. What happens to the other 96?
Do any of the four-percenters read this? Anyone who went to a 2-yr that has transferred to a 4-yr. There’s a comment button below.

Yesterday was World Teacher Day.
Nothing in my mailbox, nothing from students or fellow teachers. Nothing on the bulletin. Nothing over the loudspeaker. Nothing today to make up for the nothing yesterday.
When it comes to me, this doesn’t matter much because I’ve been around. I’ve had really great students over the years who have taken the time to tell me how much they enjoyed my class. These same students stroke whatever ego I have left when they tell me that what they learned from me is the same thing that colleges are teaching them. Parents stop me at local stores to say hello and tell me things that are nice to hear.
Sadly, not everything is about me. We have first-year teachers (along with others who don’t have the most experience) who get that job, get stuck out on the island that is their classroom, and teach their kids in a bubble. Three math teachers last year came to our school and left in the same year. I don’t know the reasons because I never got to know them.
In the English department, we had a new teacher get hired a week or two ago. I wouldn’t know the exact particulars because she has never been introduced to our department or our school. We just had a late start the other day that included the entire faculty. I went in to introduce myself the other day, but she had her back turned and was talking to a student.
World Teacher Day? Not necessary for me, but it might be nice for someone new to be recognized for what they’re doing in class. Note to self–say hi to the new English teacher tomorrow.

People don’t do things for no reason anymore. There’s always got to be something in it for them. Same deal with the clown scares. Really, people? Some guy or gal is going to dress up as a scary old clown and roam the streets of cities, scaring little children (and people who still are little children)?

Not even a possibility. For one, there’s no money in it. Two, the cops would roll up on this clown so fast it wouldn’t know what hit it (no pun intended).
Come on! Next thing you’re going to tell me is that we put a man on the moon or that Muhammad Ali actually HIT Sonny Liston. PUH-leeze.
So, today, students came up to me in class with a tweet or post on their phones that claimed clowns were at North High, lurking in our parking lot. They, of course, had descriptions of their evil attire, the ghastly make-up, and whatever weapon they were wielding. After all, there was a posting on social media that this was real.
“Picture, or it didn’t happen,” was my response, and that was that. Okay, a few boys tried to inch out of class to catch of glimpse of the hellish clowns, but they didn’t get far.
Fast forward to after school. I walked out of school with my next-door-classroom neighbor, like we often do after the final bell. But today, the principal was in the parking lot with campus security. I have never seen the two of them in the parking lot at any time, so I quickly put two and two together as we walked past them.
“Oh, you’re looking for clowns,” I said. And then, because I’m so darned clever, added something along the lines of, “Well, looks like we’re the only clowns here.”
I appreciate the pro-active stance of patrolling the parking lot after school, but there are hundreds of cars with many parents, students, and teachers in the vicinity. The principal knew I was joking around and said, “What’s that song about clowns? ‘Bring in the Clowns’?”
“‘Send in the Clowns,'” I said. “But I prefer some Smokey Robinson.”
I actually prefer the English Beat. Either version, the tears are real.
https://youtu.be/VY98T36ZC60

We have about 30 late starts this year. Today, our faculty met in the library because WASC is coming again this year for a three-year follow-up. WASC is the Western Association of Schools and Colleges and North High has always owned the highest marks from them. A committee comes to our school, stays for around a week, checks us out, and North puts on a good enough show to get a 6-yr exemption, which is a big deal.
We watched a Power Point with a Star Wars background. We also got to hear it read verbatim. Perhaps it was read for the teachers that were on their phones or grading papers. I’m not a judge here–these are merely facts.
We also broke into groups to read a paper that had eight things WASC will be looking for this year. There were ten groups of us, all looking at the same paper. We were supposed to look at it, understand it, and make a presentation that demonstrated this understanding. I was on one end of the table while two or three other teachers at the other end looked like they had it covered. Still, I did read the paper on what WASC wanted from us and felt I understood it. After 18 years at the same school, I am someone not new to WASC, which is a required process and not that scary.
Sadly, we were informed that time had run out on us and that the ten groups would not be able to do a presentation on the exact same eight points. After one or two presentations on the exact same eight points, I would guess many professional educators would have understood, but we were slated to have each group present to faculty. That would have been 10 raps, or pictures, or songs, or skits, if time had allowed.
We were done a little after 8:20, 23 minutes before the first bell would ring. Our meeting lasted around 30 minutes. We watched a Power Point, went to tables where one side had a hard time hearing the other(at least I had a hard time), and looked at eight concerns and questions for us and WASC. I’m not sure why we had to get into groups, or why anyone would want to hear the same presentation 10 times over, but that is not my job to decide.
Luckily, next Monday and Tuesday are student-free days. We’ll have ALL DAY to get things done. And then we’ll have around 25 more late starts.

Tell me, Dr. Freud,

is it normal for me to dream about teaching? Not only do I have to teach daily, then do homework, then plan, then grade papers, lather, rinse, repeat, I actually get to spend some of my nights dreaming about my students. I know–it sounds very tawdry, yet I’m just starting out with the age-old “hook.” When you’re down in it, trying to get your students to work, behave, learn, think, grow, whatever . . . it takes up a lot of time and energy. And, reality starts to work its way into dreamland. Ah, the beauty of teaching, or something along those lines.
The good–
sometimes the dreams aren’t so bad. They will feature a lesson that went well, or specific students who are amazing. Hey, lessons go well and students are awesome, so there.
The bad–
most of the dreams are bad. They are the reminder of the everyday failure, of the lessons that didn’t work (what? after 18 years I just don’t use the myriad of lessons that slayed?), or of the anxiety that comes in knowing that my efforts are not good enough for some. I’ll be out on the football field and we’ll be playing kickball–which starts out with promise and something I want to do–but we’ll only have one ball, kids will kick it somewhere, others will go get it, and my thought of bringing kids together to talk literature and/or philosophy and/or the human condition gets lost with me looking for the person looking for the ball while others huddle in groups and talk of sub-pop culture that ends up as a Youtube tutorial on cheer hair or disposable music.
It’s awful, I don’t like it, but at least I don’t have these dreams during summer.
Day 19 tomorrow. We’re going to forget about my 6th period not being quiet today because I was trying to teach them more Greek tragedy. If only Aristotle could have seen it. This is my catharsis, for they are young and do not know what they do.

As a teacher, you better have a short memory.

Fridays are not usually the most productive days of school. Kids are ready for the weekend, as are teachers. Yet there I am, giving tests, starting Macbeth, and trying to engage students in Greek Tragedy. So, when things don’t go that well–oh, it went fine enough–I look to something better.
John Baik. He was my student, as was his sister, and his sister before that. John graduated last year. I had him as a senior and as a sophomore. He got C’s. Maybe he snuck himself into a B at some point, but his glory certainly was not his English work. He was pretty sleepy most days, but smiled and was nice to others when awake.
Here’s the deal with John Baik–he liked making videos, editing those videos, and posting things to Youtube. You see, he LIKED editing, because he wanted things done the way he wanted them done. Camus, Shakespeare, Kesey? Yeah, those guys wrote books, but John was busy thinking of new stories, new dance moves, new choreography, or a way to help out his friends when it came to video production. Because he was the default at our school for video production–if you wanted something to look good and professional, you went to HIM.
Did school offer John Baik an outlet for his talents? Well, we did throw dances and proms so he could make videos for him and his friends.
Were there classes where he could hone his craft and contribute positively to our school’s brand?
I’d like to think my two English years with him helped him understand audience, go out of his comfort zone, and give his videos more authenticity, but that’s probably not the case. He learned by doing. He learned it well because it was a passion of his and, even though it didn’t coincide with my passion about literature and writing, I’m not sure it matters.
How many John Baiks are in our schools? You know the ones I’m talking about. They go to school, get through it well enough, but maybe something other than a 4-yr college is in their immediate future.
Someone has to make videos, be a plumber or an electrician, bake a cake, or tend bar. I don’t know if John Baik is in college, but I know he should be making videos because it’s his passion and he’s good at it. He will spend HOURS of time making sure each shot is correct and the editing looks right.
The video that follows is his. It’s our school’s lip dub. It was his senior project for APN, which is a class I teach with Gillian Hart. I watched him spend an entire hour of shooting video that would end up as about 20 seconds of finished product. You taught me (and Mrs. Hart, I’m sure) that valuable lesson, John Baik–that all the time we spend judging a student by the grades and how often they’re awake in class means very little when you want a great lip dub video that brands our school better than anyone else ever has.

I have all these ideas for TED talks. Teaching gives me a first-hand view of what kids are like these days and, since I have many of varying backgrounds and ethnicities and abilities, I am privy to their worlds. Most times, their worlds aren’t that interesting. They watch Youtube. They listen to music that Ryan Seacrest plays for them. They don’t get out much and, when they do, it’s to a place they’re probably familiar with–someplace safe. But they’re not bad kids. Some are curious and interesting and soak up knowledge.
TED talks are supposed to be somewhat positive, which is what I’m working on in my head. I’m a huge fan of Brave New World and 1984, knowing the easy differences between both. However, both those books were warnings for future societies, and I don’t think enough people have read the books or understand what’s going on in the world.
Henry Ford’s quote, “History is more or less bunk,” is shortened by Huxley to “History is bunk,” as Mustapha Mond walks with and lectures a group of young students. With a wave of his hand, Mond destroys cities, leaders, anything he desires from history, as it is not important to the youth of BNW. In 1984, history is messed with, is changed to fit the Party’s ideal. And the people of both societies are too busy or stupid or both to know the difference, or care.
My TED talk is what I neglected to tell enough parents last night–let your sons and daughters into your world. Sure, it’s gross and old and cringe-worthy to them, but if you don’t immerse them in it, history is going away.
Do today’s kids need to know disco? Yep. They pay big bucks to take drugs and gyrate at EDM shows, which is just disco through a guy’s computer.
Do they need to know older movies? Yes.
Directors of those movies? Yes.
Do they need to know everything that was going in their parents’ worlds. Why not?
Parents, stop hiding your histories from your kids. Trust me, as an oldster, we know way more and are way cooler. If we don’t give them more of our histories, what are our kids going to talk about? Because if they stop knowing about the past, and they stop talking and questioning, someone else is going to talk and decide for them.
I’m still working on how to make that positive, though.

It is always hot on back to school night. It is always hot on the day of back to school night, as evidenced by me sweating like a pig. What’s funny, historically speaking, is that sweating like a pig has its origins not with the animal, but with the smelting process for iron. Pigs don’t really sweat that much–when they need to cool down, they wallow around in mud, which is a metaphor I choose not to attach at this writing.
Either way, I’ve taught all day and now have to go back to school to tell parents about my classes. I love this night, even though I will find new ways to sweat. Parents are a big deal–I know because I have this 12-yr-old who is in Honors English but does story summaries for homework–and this is the night I get to “sell [them] this pen.” They need to be convinced that their son/daughter IS in the right place and IS with the right teacher. That may seem like a hard sell for me sometimes, but I hope by the end of the night that their fears are assuaged.
It’s going to be a little harder for my next-door neighbor teacher to assuage his students’ parents’ fears, as a brand new class period of freshman students was ushered to his room on day 15, less than 12 hours before back to school night. These kids had another teacher up until now (maybe multiple teachers). He also had a class of sophomores during that period, but I don’t know where they ended up. Perhaps it’s like baseball and there will be a player to be named later in the whole process. Either way, kids are still being shuffled around on the fourth week, which can’t help their adjustment to a new school and new expectations.
For parents tonight, they get the reality of me. I’m not so bad because I’m HONEST and always TRYING NEW THINGS. Some of the things I will try this year will fail so miserably, but I’m trying. We will laugh about them (I hope) and move along. Guess I’ll drink some more water now so I can sweat some more tonight.
More Leo for you.

This is a toast to the person(s) who set off the fire alarm yesterday and made the entire school go out onto the field in the middle of the hottest day of the year. You burned cheese bread, toasted it too much, which set off the alarm. Here is a toast to your toast.
How does one explain heatstroke to a parent? How does one, in this day and age of catastrophe, not realize that your whole campus is basically in one place at one time? On a false alarm!
Well, at least Gatsby raises his glass. I only had my body temperature raised. Still is, after I found out it was toast.
https://youtu.be/UPsifqZNhCc

I look out at my classes now and again. Sometimes, my students are bored. I try to yell, inflect my voice, shock them back to reality–anything–but they just get bored here and there.
Can you blame them?
We’re reading Antigone in Sophomore English. My Honors kids are reading it along with my regular class. We are going at the same pace for all classes. It’s my attempt to see just how far off the two classes are, if at all. But Greek tragedy doesn’t really inspire much. It’s 2500 years old, the translation is profoundly British, and I’m not sure about its merit.
In my 6th period today, one of my students read to me from her book. She asked to read Antigone the other day, but I have it on cassette (yep!) so I didn’t let her. But today she read from the second page of her book–the writing was crazy, her reading was fine, AND she was excited to share the craziness of the prose. You see, she was excited to read something that wasn’t even assigned for school just because it interested her and a friend suggested it.
Now, I love old Sophocles and Antigone and Greek Tragedy, and it doesn’t take much time for the overall class–a couple of weeks at most. It’s essential, especially because of Oedipus and the fact that his name will come up again at some point in their lives, and because Aristotle’s definition of tragedy applies to most media they watch today, especially those in the soap opera format.
There’s the quandary for me. Many are not going to remember Antigone in a few months, maybe even a few weeks. Some might, but we are boring our students. I walk by other classes at school and I might as well be walking past a tomb. And nowhere does it say that school has to be this exciting place where teachers yawn and rainbows appear, but there has to be a happy medium.
Maybe I’m just old, but I don’t think so. I want to change with the times, but I keep battling kids who want the worksheet because it’s easy points and no challenge. Maybe THEY are to blame??? We’ll see. Today was only the 14th day.