It's all Greek to me! But it doesn't have to be -- Ethos, Pathos and Logos

High School sophomores throughout the U.S. know that being in tenth grade means another year of Shakespeare and another chance to crack his code.

More often than not students come to my class expecting to listen to a recording while they follow along (like they did freshman year), grabbing tidbits of information here and there; oftentimes, missing the big picture altogether. Well, first of all, we don't sit. We act.  Second of all, we revolve all our discussions around the appeals to ethos, pathos and logos, the corner stones of persuasive rhetoric. What I always find most enjoyable is watching the light bulbs go off and the simple fact that teaching them how to examine author's purpose (by looking closely at ethos, pathos and logos) allows students to see why Shakespeare is writing Julius Caesar while forcing them to look at themselves and their own use of the different appeals in day-to-day life.

Examining Antony's monologues, Cassius' asides and the plebians' flippancy makes students see Shakespeare as a real person who is trying to desperately affect social change safely, a bit beyond arm's reach of the Crown. Yes, Antony is criticizing the commoners for flip-flopping their allegiance from Pompey, to Caesar, to Brutus and then back to Caesar again; but more importantly, my students are able to figure out Shakespeare is criticizing his audience for doing the very same thing Antony was enraged by in the play, being a lemming. Then, naturally, reflection begins and they apply the lessons to their own worlds.

It's vital to teach ethos, pathos and logos alongside Julius Caesar because it demystifies the past and the present.  Students see metaphor in action and consider, sometimes for the first time, the power of rhetoric not only in Caesar, but in conversations with Moms, Dads and even their best friends.  While it's pretty goofy, I used the video, Persuasive Appeals Ethos Logos Pathos that somewhat oversimplifies ethos, pathos and logos but manages to put them on a level nearly anyone can understand. So have fun and remember that the most important lesson we have to teach to our students is that they have a mind of their own and to find it, they have to be critical thinkers and critical consumers.  

Putting a modern day spin on Julius
When teaching any subject, I think it's important to make modern-day connections, which is precisely why I'm planning on incorporating "Tribal Ties, Long Qaddafi’s Strength, May Be His Undoing"
into my lessons at the end of Julius Caesar. I'll ask students to read the article in pairs and discuss the connections to Caesar. 

"Why bother?"

In Dana Patterson's  "Why Bother?" she explores why it's worth it to be in the trenches with the kids.  Being an educator, as explained by Patterson, is all about being a role model, a guidance counselor and sometimes, even a mother.  It's about making decisions that could deeply impact my student's life one way or another, good or bad.

For instance, Do I call the parent of the a child who's  got an "F" in my class because he refuses to pay attention, even though I know that student will be verbally berated as soon as he gets home? Heck, I saw it happen face-to-face at conferences.  Or worse, do I make the phone call if there is any suspicion of physical abuse? I mean, really, the kid said his mom beats him if doesn't do his homework. What if it's true. Of course I talked to counselor and the SRO officer, calls were made, but no proof. But what if it's true...even a little bit?  If I don't call, I'm not communicating with parents, I'm not fulfilling my professional duties. If I do, God knows what the outcome might be and whether or not the student will trust me again.  Maybe that phone call could be the catalyst to something much scarier, even unthinkable.  Maybe I'm just being paranoid.  I don't know.

The point is, as a teacher I'm not just responsible for me.  I'm not just responsible for my students. I'm responsible for an entire group of people I can't control or even necessarily find or communicate with. How does that even make sense? There are so many variables and where does the responsibility rest?  On the teacher's shoulders, of course. You know the buzzwords, "teacher accountability."  But here's the catch, "teacher accountability" doesn't mean parents can excuse themselves from the table of responsibility and it also doesn't mean our profession as educators should become the scapegoat of the world's woes--economic, social, whatever.

Even with the negative environment that is swirling like a rabid tornado around the world of public education, I LOVE what I'm doing and I love the challenges these types of situations present, but I hate the negative opinion, the negative press and the lack of support for quality teachers that is plaguing education.  Yep, I have bad days and the kids at school can drive me crazy, but I do care and I do bother. Why do I bother? Because someone needs to be there for the kids when everyone else is giving up on them.  Because high schoolers are truly the funniest people I know and I laugh, cry, speak sternly and even provide the occasional snort because they impact me just as much as I do them.  They make me happy. More importantly, they make me see myself for all the good and bad that I am, and they force me to reflect, change and reflect again.  The question is, why shouldn't you bother? 

Speaking of funny high school students...look at the funny, harmless prank my advanced junior English kids did to my classroom. They got into my room an hour before school even started, stuck thousands of sticky notes all over my room. That's why I love teaching high schoolers.  That's why I "bother." 

Response to Five Tips for Smarter Social Networking

While reading the article, "Response to Five Tips for Smarter Social Networking," I was immediately battling some serious internal conflict.  I mean, truly, what does it mean to be a social networking member and a friendly neighbor?  The article explains that people should be willing to be somewhat transparent, meshing their personal lives with their professional ones, an opportunity to "break down the walls."

The problem, however, is that those walls are necessary but to what extent?  I just had a conversation with a colleague and we were discussing the tendency of perception skewing and even misinterpreting any blog's intentions.  As a current English teacher and an ex-journalism teacher of 9 years, my stomach flip-flops when I think about all the news articles that had the best intentions, but ended with the worst results.  That's my fear with blogs, but what's worse is it's about me regardless of how personal or impersonal it is.

At the same time I recognize the important of building trust and letting people in a little bit at a time.  I mean, jeeze, that's what we do with our students. But what's more important is finding that balance and in order to find balance, you've got to take risks.  It's quite a conundrum and I'm just in the beginning phases of figuring out, which explains why I didn't ever blog until Josh (@josh_allen, my instructor, forced me to.  :)

Love them back

It was sixth hour, my tech roaming period, when a student hurried through my door, "Mrs. F., here's a note for you."  I looked down and it explained I needed to cover Room Z-25.  So off I went to what was soon to be an experience of a lifetime.

When I rounded the corner to the room I did what every person would do in that situation. I went for the handle.  After a few clinks and a couple expletives, under my breath of course, I shrugged my shoulders and knocked on the door.  How am I supposed to cover a room I can't get into?  Then....then...a magic hand came from behind and then another one and it was then I realized this wasn't just any classroom, it was completely locked down. 

After the paraprofessional pressed a big red button and then pushed open the door within three seconds (coordination I didn't have apparently), she explained that the doors were engineered to prevent flight risks. Oddly enough, I was excited because this wasn't going to be the typical math class or social studies class where the lesson plans would include a video that was completely unrelated to the subject area.  The lesson was in fact about life.

I took my spot at the teacher's desk because I was afraid to get in the paraprofessionals' way.  There were four kids.  The one sitting to my left, (I'll call him Pablo), was a head trauma victim who had very limited verbal abilities and no writing abilities. He was happily playing Dora, but he was making his own music to go along with it.  Pablo had eaten something for lunch that wasn't agreeing with his stomach and the disagreement was coming out in thin, raspy high pitch chords that could possibly result in some messy clean-up. 

To my right was "Frank" whose job was shredding paper.  With his nose nearly touching the shredder, he carefully put in piece after piece, only pausing to wipe dry erase marker off the board in front of him a single sweep at a time.  His severe chromosomal damage made it difficult for me to discern any real emotion, but he was consumed by the motion of each paper and his connection to those motions. It was almost in rhythm with the raspiness of Pablo's toots. 
"Pablo!" said the para. "What do you say?"
"Sooory," he slurred with a smile

A little further to my right was "Paul," a severely autistic 18-year-old who was also battling OCD and also really loved picture books, especially ones with flowers. When I looked up I noticed he had planted both pointer fingers, one in each nostril.  Then, CLUNK! CLUNK! CLUNK! His head pounding began but its purpose was necessary. His hair was worn away on one side because he would pound his head against the table to soothe himself. Then he would examine his treasures on both pointer fingers and re-insert. 

Directly in front of me was Linda, a strong mind trapped by cerebral palsy. The only way she could show excitement was by choking and spewing saliva, but she understood everything that was taking place around her. But the best was the para who said, "If you hear barking about every 10 minutes, don't worry, it's just me. I have Tourettes." 

What still sticks with me is how much love those paras had for other people's children, and how all their (the kids and teachers) little idiosyncrasies made such a delightful, honest, complex picture. They love them enough to change their pants, hold their boogery hands and coo over them as if these special needs children were their own.  They celebrate every victory, including their own, behind walls no one usually sees; and they do it from their hearts because the pay is an insult.  They love their kids and more importantly, their kids--the ones that other people perceive as broken--love them back.