yesterday's danish

Inauguration!

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 01:50:00 +0000

Adam took this on our street today.

STOP TALKING

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Sun, 11 Jan 2009 16:03:00 +0000

There are all types of misbehavior in a classroom, and a myriad of ways to handle it. When something occurs, I tend to first think about the effect on the class. If it is making anyone feel unsafe, then I deal with it quickly and seriously.

If it is not, then I think of the student’s motivation to cause the behavior: boredom, their being upset about something else, not wanting to do work, wanting to prove their coolness, or in order to antagonize or test me. A fairly rare type (at least by this point, halfway through the year), and the type I pounce on most viciously, are those students acting to antagonize. Most of the rest can be effectively dealt with by concern, positive feedback, or a honed “teacher stare”- an amazingly powerful weapon.

However, that doesn’t work all the time, especially with Alexis*, a student in my first period class. Alexis is a classic case of not wanting to do the work. He speaks and writes Spanish better than English and he is a very social kid. He would much rather converse with his peers than read books or write essays, and he has a hard time controlling himself. Alexis and I get along well, and I know that his continued talking is not meant to upset me, but he will often receive the “teacher stare” multiple times in one class because as soon as I look away from him, he starts again.

This type of misbehavior is hard to respond to effectively. Taking a drastic measure, like sending him out of the classroom, won’t help matters because during silent reading time he would much rather not be in the classroom. Positive reinforcement when he is on task is useful, but it doesn’t seem to override Alexis’s temptation to talk.

Two days before Christmas vacation (also known as one of the two most useless days of the school year) I got truly frustrated with Alexis. I spent twice as long as normal just getting the students seated, with their materials out, and their books open. The class wanted nothing to do with silence. Finally, FINALLY, I got them quieted down and reading.

I turned to my desk to mark the attendance. I heard Alexis talking to the student next to him. I turned and gave him the stare. He stopped. I turned back around. After a minute or so, he started again. I stared. “Sorry, Miss” he said and put his nose back into his book. I went over to help another student and I heard him again.

Part of me wanted to yell and scream, but the situation didn’t warrant that. Then I remembered something random Adam had given me about a year before. Adam has an interest in design and he had stumbled across these cards, which are very plain white business cards that say STOP TALKING in small serious letters in the middle of the card. He got me a pack of them. They are intimidating cards. I walked over to my wallet where I keep one, took it out, and silently handed it to Alexis.

The effect was astounding. He looked confused and then gave a chagrined half-smile and bobbed his head down a little. He looked up at me sheepishly and said, “Can I go read in the back?” I nodded. He gathered his stuff and started walking from the front of the room to an isolated desk in the back of the room, the card in one hand. As he walked down the aisle, other students reached out to see what I had handed him. He paused for a second and then shook his head gravely and kept walking quietly, down an aisle of outstretched hands.

He read silently for the entire rest of the time. At the end of class, he walked back up to me and handed me back the card. We didn’t discuss it at all.

I can only assume Alexis thought he had stumbled on to some whole new aspect of discipline, that he had violated something large and beyond his knowledge of the system in which we operate… that there was and is a whole further level of things.

If only that was true!

Mermaid

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 02:58:00 +0000

In class the other day one of my students decided to dance around a bit before getting down to work. As he finally sat down he fell and landed spectacularly on the floor. The class laughed and once I saw he was okay I pretty much ignored it and tried to move along to the next activity.

It seemed a ploy for attention, an idea that wasn't disproved when Jonathan* remained on the floor. I ignored his being on the floor for a while, and then I went over to him and asked him what was going on. He didn't reply so I asked him to write about why he was upset (this works about ninety percent of the time when the student won't respond verbally). He wrote that he was upset because Edwin* (the boy next to him) had pulled his chair out and caused him to fall. I wrote back that I hadn't realized that the chair was pulled out from under him, and it was dangerous and I would speak to Edwin after class. Jonathan continued to frown but acquiesced to my request that he get up off the floor.

I walked away and assumed he had gotten to work until I walked by again and saw that he was busy drawing a telling image- a boy riding a dolphin above the waves. The waves were labeled "piranha tank" and a boy in the water was labeled "Edwin." I smiled and let him keep at it.

Class ended and I went over to where Jonathan and Edwin were sitting. I turned to Edwin and said, "Edwin, you cannot pull chairs out from under people. It is dangerous, someone could get hurt, and it is not respectful. It's not funny when it can really hurt" or something along those typical teacherish lines. Edwin nodded and left.

Class had ended but Jonathan continued sitting and drawing. I came back to Jonathan a couple minutes later and beheld the new, improved version of his piranha tank vision; the tank and Edwin had been erased, and I had entered the picture as a mermaid! It is an ever so accurate depiction of the class, despite the slight misspelling of my name:

*names were changed

Dear President-Elect

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 15:23:00 +0000

Dear President-Elect Obama,

Today I mailed a packet of 65 sixth grade students’ letters, letters filled with introductions, advice and questions for you, the President that will hopefully carry these young students from childhood into adulthood. My students live in the South Bronx, in one of the poorest congressional districts in the country. The majority of them receive free lunch. The letters they have written you are filled with hope for the change you seek to bring to our country. I try to teach my students that their voices are worth being heard. Please read and consider their statements. I think their dreams reflect what many of us across the country want to see. In a selection of their own words:

“My wish came true you became president.” “I am happy because you are the first black man to be a President. And I am sorry because of what happen to your grandmother.” “You are the president that gets to change this world and make it a safer and better place for all of us to live in.” “I hope that you will do a great job fixing all of former President Bush’s mistakes.” “I wanted to work for you but I am only 11.” “I am writing to you to give you my opinion. I have great ideas.”

“I hope that over the next four years you will change the war. I hope the war will end soon. I think that because people are dying for no reason when maybe you just need to sit them down and tell Iraq that we don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Another thing I think you should do is make taxes lower because people spend too much money and barely have any leftover. I think it would help millions of people. Also it would give people a little more money in their pockets and more money to spend on food. Especially when you have a family you need as much money as possible so you can feed everyone’s mouth. I know this because I have a family with one sister, one brother, and a mom and a dad just like you I know you have children and a wife. That’s why I know you understand.”

“You should make a college for poor people so that they can learn.”

“Are you going to put a basketball court in the white house when you move there?”

“You made history from what Mr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, he said “We Shall Overcome” and that’s what you did on Tuesday, you overcame Obama.” “I believe in you and look up to you because you make me think that maybe when I get older I might be able to become the first female president of the United States.” “I know you have a tough road ahead of you, but you can do it because you know what I believe in you.” “Lastly I know you will be the best president ever.”

Sincerely,
Ms. Edmonds and various Sixth Graders

“P.S. I hope you like being the president!”
“P.S. You are the man!”

Donors Choose Me, Please!

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Fri, 07 Nov 2008 15:24:00 +0000

I did a cool project with my students last year in which they wrote creation myths and then illustrated the myth in a little book. We invited their parents and read and celebrated their work. It was a proud occasion and I'm looking to recreate it this year, but I need some funding (I know, not the best economy to be asking for that)- but anyway, here is the link for the full proposal on Donor's Choose:
http://www.donorschoose.org/donors/proposal.html?id=224650

Maverick

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 15:30:00 +0000

On election day, my dad, who is a member of the East Hampton Town Democrats, went to his local polling place to hold up an Obama sign with the other Town Democrats. Now, tradition in East Hampton dictates that Democrats hold up signs on one side of the street, Republicans on the other. My dad decided to stand on the Republican side. Some folks were miffed, so the chair of the Town GOP walked over and told my dad he needed to stand on the Democrat side. In characteristic fashion, my dad refused, explaining that he was a "Republican for Obama." Later, the GOP leader learned that my dad is in fact a big ole Dem. So he goes back to my dad and says "You're on the Democratic committee. Why did you say you were a Republican?" My dad's response: "Because I'm a Maverick." (written by my sister)

Letter to the Editor

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 00:14:00 +0000

My Letter to the Editor on this NY Times article, Next Question: Can Students Be Paid to Excel?

To the Editor:

Re “Next Question: Can Students Be Paid to Excel?” (front page, March 5), about a program to reward teachers and students for test performance at P.S. 188 on the Lower East Side of Manhattan:

I was a student teacher at P.S. 188 and am familiar with the school’s focus on state tests. I was shocked that educated professionals would support an initiative to pay students for test scores.

As a middle-school English teacher who constantly strives to help students realize that reading and writing are a larger part of life than a short state test, I detest the concept of rewarding their performance with money. Poor students who do basic academic work because it results in cash are merely being coached to perform, and the people really benefiting are school professionals and politicians.

This initiative sends the message that learning for learning’s sake is obsolete. Paying students for test scores reduces the teaching of English to a transaction, one in which a teacher sells students methods of fooling test graders.

This is not an education.

Julie Edmonds
New York, March 5, 2008

I'm Not Running for President

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 03:19:00 +0000

In college my housemates and I spent a disproportionate amount of time personifying objects, which is part of why I find this ad, about the wind and for wind turbines, awesome.

Miracle Berries

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 01:44:00 +0000

I cannot eat sour foods. I pucker uncontrollably, turn red, cry, and my throat closes up. It is truly horrible. Unfortunately, my sour receptors are also very keen- oranges, for example, are a bit too sour for me to really enjoy. Limes, Granny Smith apples, kumquat and grapefruit- out of the question.

For Valentine's day, Adam came up with a gift to address this issue. A magical gift by the name of "miracle berries" or "miracle fruit."

Miracle berries are just that; berries from West Africa that, for about 20-40 minutes after you eat them, make sour foods taste sweet. It is hard to imagine or believe, but it is true, and amazing! The proof I offer you, besides personal testimony, is in the form of pictures. The one at the top is a before (horrific face caused by lime) and the ones on the left are befores, on the rights afters (kumquat-induced):

I love the last lines of poems.

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Sat, 16 Feb 2008 19:59:00 +0000

Navigating in the Dark
by Erik Campbell

Papua, Indonesia

In this mining town in Papua the electricity
Has a habit of giving up at night, and this

Is a miracle of modern stasis, a secular Shabbat,
Reminding us of what is expendable, of how so few

Of us ever truly experience the dark. We are amazed,
My wife and I, with the heavy darkness

Of the no moon jungle, insect sounds lacerating
All illusions of silent places. "It's so absolute,"

My wife says, and I like to think she means
More than the darkness; the naked places

Of ourselves we dress in sunlight, lamps,
And recorded music like antithetical

Blanche DeBois's fearing a different sort
Of scrutiny. "We could pretend it's 1940,"

I say, "put a Jack Benny tape on the short wave
And drink coffee, light candles." She suggests

A walk outside instead, where there are dozens
Of others already out on paths bounded by jungle,

Stepping small and laughing loudly through various
Uncertainties; flashlights as eyes, ears like animals'.

Soon we are trying only to remember not to disappear
Altogether; everything is so absolutely, so darkly possible.

Happy St. Valentine's Day!

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Sat, 16 Feb 2008 19:54:00 +0000

Vote

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Tue, 07 Nov 2006 13:38:00 +0000

"Bad officials are elected by good citizens who do not vote."
Nathan, George Jean American editor and drama critic (1882-1958)

from Toothpaste for Dinner-

All Hallow Dreaming

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Thu, 19 Oct 2006 16:52:00 +0000

I had the worst dream last night. It wasn't a nightmare, but I am going to argue it was worse than a nightmare, because there was no sense of relief when I awoke. I dreamt I needed to get an oil change, and then I woke up and realized I did, in fact, need to get an oil change. Practical dreaming! Horrid!

Neglect

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Wed, 11 Oct 2006 22:06:00 +0000

Awesome- Interview with Sharyn-the-playwright, righting all our wrongs!

3Graces presents a GraceNotes workshop production of NEGLECT in repertory with NICKEL AND DIMED.
NEGLECT is written by Sharyn Rothstein, winner of this year's Samuel French Original Short Play Festival, and is directed by Catherine Ward. Based on the 1995 Chicago heat wave that claimed the lives of over seven hundred elderly residents, mostly African-Americans who lived in social isolation, NEGLECT is the story of an elderly woman, Rose, and her young neighbor, Joseph, who come together on the first day of the heat wave to escape the unbearable heat and their own feelings of loneliness. A story of social responsibility, NEGLECT is an often funny, deeply moving play about what holds us together and what keeps us apart.
Directed by Catherine Ward
Dramaturgy by J. Holtham
with Geany Masai* and William Jackson Harper*featuring Ange Berneau*
GraceNotes is 3Graces' forum for studio theater and experimental works, including solo shows, one-acts, and works-in-progress. Co-artistic directors Elizabeth Bunnell and Annie McGovern call it an "artistic playground," where company members, guest artists and audiences share in the delight of developing and performing new works.
NEGLECT will run October 10 - 25 at the Bank Street Theater, located at 155 Bank Street.
Performances: Tuesday, Wednesday, Sunday at 7pm.
Tickets for NEGLECT are $15 and are on sale through Ticket Central at http://3graces.pmailus.com/pmailweb/ct?d=CHLeqwCHAAEAAAgXAADM2w or 212-279-4200.
For more information, visit http://3graces.pmailus.com/pmailweb/ct?d=CHLeqwCIAAEAAABpAADM2w.

* Appearing courtesy of Actors Equity Association

Too Hot to Handle

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Tue, 03 Oct 2006 16:42:00 +0000

This is the kind of thing that freaks me out about becoming a teacher:

"...Ms. McGee, 51, a popular art teacher with 28 years in the classroom, is out of a job after leading her fifth-grade classes last April through the Dallas Museum of Art. One of her students saw nude art in the museum, and after the child’s parent complained, the teacher was suspended." (from New York Times).
An art teacher getting suspended because there happens to be some nude art at the museum? The child whose parent complained is going to grow up with some unfortunate complexes about nudity. The statue at left is one of four of the "offending" sculptures. Of course, now that this case has made the news the pictures of these nude sculptures are being shown on the news (with the anatomy blacked out- thank God), so even the schoolchildren that didn't go on the field trip can get offended. Considering the lives American children lead nowadays, with their internet access, video games with scantily clad women spurting blood, and the music videos shown on tv, getting upset about some classic art may be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.
(Sculpture pictured- Shade, Auguste Rodin)

haha

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Mon, 02 Oct 2006 21:14:00 +0000

Failed t-shirt idea from Toothpaste for Dinner:

Hot day, Summer in the city

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Fri, 04 Aug 2006 01:20:00 +0000

I went to a coffeeshop the other day. As I was waiting impatiently for some iced coffee concoction, I listened to the sort of nervous-looking middle-aged guy in front of me request his order, a frozen coffee drink. The woman behind the counter nodded and turned to make it, then asked, "do you want whipped cream?"
The man, all awkwardness, quickly replied, "Not for the coffee-" paused for a while, then added, "or anything really."

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Mon, 31 Jul 2006 18:57:00 +0000

The evolution of dance

have we really evolved?

Domesticated Apes

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Wed, 26 Jul 2006 14:14:00 +0000

A wacky quote from the New York Times article, "Nice Rats, Nasty Rats: Maybe It's All in the Genes";

His strategy is to cross the tame rats with the ferocious rats and then score the progeny for how much of each trait they inherit. He hopes to identify 200 sites along the genome at which the tame and ferocious rats differ. If one or more of the sites correlate with tameness or fierceness in the progeny, they will probably lie near important genes that underlie one of the two traits.

The genes, if Mr. Albert finds them, would be of great interest because they are presumably the same in all species of domesticated mammal. That may even include humans. Richard Wrangham, a primatologist at Harvard, has proposed that people are a domesticated form of ape, the domestication having been self-administered as human societies penalized or ostracized individuals who were too aggressive.

Case Work

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Tue, 25 Jul 2006 02:33:00 +0000

I encourage you to check out this article on New York Times online. The article, entitled "The Case of Marie and Her Sons," was the lead in the Sunday magazine this past weekend. I happened upon it today online and it "gave me the heebie-jeebies" as my mom put it, as it was exactly the job I was doing the year before last, child protective casework, in the nearest office to where I was doing it, and the case worker they focus on started around the same time I did. I wrote about it before here. It's a job I quit, but still think about frequently, wondering how my clients are doing- how their stories played out, if they're okay. The work forever changed my perspective on how lives are lived in America, and how people are affected by their family. It's a job I'm incredibly glad I don't have anymore, for my emotional well-being, but part of me wants to go back and do it over again, perfectly. Which, as the article shows, is not possible.

School Project Time

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Wed, 12 Jul 2006 17:26:00 +0000

Anyone feeling magnanimous can head over to this site and follow the directions...
Thanks!
(if you're not feeling magnanimous, I understand. It is Wednesday, after all)

Epalpebrates!

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Tue, 04 Jul 2006 04:29:00 +0000

Where Words Go To Die

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Tue, 04 Jul 2006 02:18:00 +0000

I guess I was in a morbid (morose, gloomy, melancholic, sinister, macabre, gruesome) mood today, as I have spent significant time pondering death- the demise of words, that is--

You too can delve into this otherworld of words (The Phrontistery), and ponder what has become of:

alabandical
adj
1656 -1775
barbarous; stupefied from drink
His behaviour after the party was positively alabandical.

And

foppotee
n
1663 -1663
simpleton
What a pitiful foppotee he was, always oblivious to our jeers!

Did we outgrow them? Grad school is going to lead me to need the word “alabandical” (RIP 1775) and “foppotee” (RIP 1663). Why would these gems fade out and others like “inebriated” and “moron” remain? Perhaps answers to all our philosophical queries can be found in these lost words… especially words like epalpebrate and stiricide:

(I include this one because I liked the sentence):
cacatory
adj
1684 -1753
accompanied by loose bowels
For the diners, the effects of the chicken cacciatore, alas, were cacatory.

epalpebrate
adj
1884 -1884
lacking eyebrows
If you don't stop plucking, soon you'll be epalpabrate!

jobler
n
1662 -1662
one who does small jobs
We've found a great jobler who takes care of our repairs quickly and cheaply.

murklins
adv
1568 -1674
in the dark
She stumbled murklins about the house until she found the light switch.

pigritude
n
1623 -1656
slothfulness
Despite the college student's pigritude, he continued to maintain a 'B' average.

stiricide
n
1656 -1656
falling of icicles from a house
The untended tenement was very dangerous in winter due to stiricide.

uglyography
n
1804 -1834
bad handwriting; poor spelling
Your uglyography conceals the cogency and brilliance of your ideas.

Subaru Time

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Tue, 27 Jun 2006 14:03:00 +0000

(picture from Natalie Dee)

As it turns out, Subarus are the official car of the Hudson Valley, so my car and I are fitting right in from the getgo with this return to country living. Ways I am not fitting in includes expecting something, ANYTHING, to be open past eight o'clock at night.

Strange aspects include the bleating pygmy goat that has suddenly appeared in my backyard ("Not in my backyard!" I cried, when it chewed on my bicycle), and the fact that all I have to do with myself is sit around reading on the porch.

noreply@blogger.com (Julie) — Mon, 19 Jun 2006 02:35:00 +0000

Stephen Colbert Interview on the 10 Commandments

I know more commandments than this dude, and that is certainly not saying much.