My Transforming Teacher-Anxiety Dreams

After 41 years in education, I still have anxiety dreams about beginning a new school year, and my only consolation is that I know such dreams, although varied in content, are common among teachers. Now that I’m teaching solely at the college level, however, those once-a-year night terrors in late July through early August now plague me for a second time in mid-January when I anticipate spring semester with a new group; plus, with my new courses beginning this week, the onslaught of those night terrors have taken on a completely different theme with all my teaching moving online.

Even when on the surface I’m feeling nothing less than excitement to begin a new school year, out of the blue, like clockwork, I awake tossing and turning having walked into my new classroom with students everywhere, filling every nook and cranny of the classroom and sitting on desks and countertops. And did I say, “sitting”? No, no…those students are talking, singing, dancing, laughing, yelling, without any hint—or care—that I have called class to order and am ready to teach them everything they need to know about English. It is pure chaos! Yes, my worst nightmare! (At least I have all my clothes on, as some of my teacher colleagues have confided that their anxiety dreams have them naked in front of the class.)

Evidently, though, I’ve left those chaotic scenes behind, at least for this upcoming spring semester. Yes, it’s so funny how the brain works—or how our dreams surface our evident anxieties that must be buried deep inside us during the day. Again this semester, I’m teaching Comp. II to college freshmen, but for the first time, this semester all my teaching is online, and, unbelievingly, my anxiety dreams have adapted to fit the situation. Two nights ago, I awoke, having dreamed about my incapability of formatting a document that I desperately needed to post in our learning management system—or LMS. I can still clearly see the two-column chart on which I was unable to move the contents from the right-hand column over to the left-hand column. That dratted software would not cooperate, leaving me helpless to meet my students’ needs—as if they would read the document anyway. Still, formatting it perfectly was not going to happen. I was beside myself! Then, last night I was hit with another outlandish nightmare…. I was grading a student essay online, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out where the sets of parentheses fell. Yes, this essay was not only riddled with parentheses, but there was no logic of their pairings. As usual, I wanted to give the student the benefit of the doubt, and, as I too often do, I was doubting my own ability to figure out what a student—who was possibly much smarter than I am—was trying to do. I awoke just as I was having a major meltdown.

In contrast, during my years of mentoring new teachers, I always said that most good teachers—even veteran teachers—begin the school year with a bit of nervousness—a clear sign that the teacher is conscientious about doing a good job—but my dreams in the past 48 hours have been completely ridiculous! In fact, greatly anticipating getting started, I even released my course a few days early to the students already enrolled. I just hope that those nightmares aren’t predictors that my computer will be crashing any time soon.

When I bravely revealed my recent dreams to my husband, also a long-time educator, he suggested that the worst anxiety dream would be to show up for class and there are no students at all. Maybe. But I’ll hope for a full class of conscientious students who can’t wait to begin their first major essay! I know…I’m still dreaming!

I Can’t Help What I Like

Triggered by reading a movie review in this morning’s paper, I’m reminded by how my likes and dislikes can be so different with what seems to be the norm. I’m not talking about my general dislike for opera or skiing or Greek food or, even as a passionate dog-lover, pugs and Boston terriers, as I am in pretty good company with those topics. No, I’m talking about disliking what most people do like and appreciate, but I don’t. For example, I don’t like apple pie, and I’m the only person I know who doesn’t. I don't like candles because I'm afraid I'll burn down my house. I don’t like Harry Potter books, yet I appreciate that they are well written and have turned on millions of children to reading. In my personal and professional worlds, there are people whom everyone else seems to idolize, but I don’t; in fact, sometimes I’m not a fan at all. (Note that I’m smart enough not to mention specific names.) And my husband frequently reminds me that I’m the only person he knows who doesn’t like the movie Lawrence of Arabia. No, I don’t! In fact, quite honestly, it bored me out of my mind, and I actually fell asleep while trying to watch it. Because it’s my husband’s favorite movie in the universe, however, I truly want to like it…but I don’t!

Likewise, there are some things I do like, although I seem to be in the company of only a few. Back to the movie review I read this morning…. Granted, my husband and I saw The Wolf on Wall Street on Christmas Day, the day of its release, based on its good pre-release movie reviews. Since that time, however, I’ve read numerous reviews and comments from critics and friends who have labeled it “trash” and have admonished others for giving it such high accolades. For myself, however, not only did I like the movie, but I’m quite surprised that I liked it at all. In fact, the very next day, a few of my family members (at a post-Christmas gathering) asked me about the movie, and in all cases my response was “I’d describe it as ‘greed, drugs, and orgies’…but I liked it!” The looks on my relatives’ faces mirrored my own surprise since I despise greed, I don’t do drugs (except caffeine and a bit of alcohol, of course), and I’ll go to my grave being embarrassed by nudity (thanks to my Victorian mother). Still, I found the movie captivating because, at least based on what I’ve read, the story of Jordan Belfort was true! Yes, he thoroughly disgusts me! And I’m so glad, based on the movie’s depiction of life on Wall Street, that that culture has never been a part of my life. Still, what a great movie! In today’s review in the Kansas City Star, C. W. Gusewelle, whose writings I enjoy and respect, states, “I don’t make unreasonable demands of a movie. All I ask…is a narrative that’s coherent, a setting that is believable, and characters appealing enough that I care about their fates.” For me, however, it’s that last descriptor that doesn’t hold up. By the end of the movie, I couldn’t have cared less about Belfort’s fate! He was a disgusting asshole and, in my mind, deserved nothing good, based on his actions and lifestyle. Had the story been fiction, I might not feel the same; instead, I might lump it with the gruesome horror and bullet-and-blood-riddled Hollywood blockbusters that I can see no purpose for. But because The Wolf on Wall Street story is true, it fascinated me. At the same time I am reminded of Big Brother in Orwell’s 1984 and Archie Costello in Robert Cormier’s The Chocolate War. What great characters to hate! What tremendous talents Orwell and Cormier—and Scorsese, in the case of Belfort—displayed in creating those characters that will stay with me.

My point here is not to review the movie, as I’m not a qualified movie critic. My point actually is a curiosity as to why people so passionately like different things compared to the norm (granted our taste buds are different) and specifically why I like and appreciate different things compared to most other people. Likewise, in my teaching life, I’ve found myself in the minority on several topics, issues, and methods, even when they carry the label as “research-based” or “best practices.” For example, a few that come to my mind are five-minute walk-throughs, the value of pacing guides, assigned reading based on quantity (see my previous blog), and limited passes to the restroom. At the same time, I know I’m a hypocrite in these areas because I’m confident that, if any of my former colleagues are reading this post, they could easily counter with “But, Kay, I distinctly remember when you used to….” (Fill in the blank with numerous truths—many that now make me cringe and for which I am often inclined to write personal letters of apology to former students and their parents).

I suppose the key is to keep our minds open to all possibilities, be tolerant (at least to a point) of others’ opinions and tastes, know when to keep our mouths shut about what we do and don’t like (so we can keep the friends we have—family members are stuck with us), and know that there’s nothing wrong with us when we deviate from the norm, even when we’re surprised by our own opinions. Holding to these practices should help me keep myself in check when I’m reminded that, just as I may be the only person who doesn’t like Lawrence of Arabia, my husband is the only person I know who doesn’t like pizza! (I’ll end here by practicing keeping my mouth shut.)

Why My Reading Goal for 2014 Is Only to Read

With all due respect to my avid reading colleagues and friends who set impressive goals to read 100 books or more for the following year, I refuse to set a personal reading goal challenging myself to read a specific quantity of books during 2014. Although since 2009 I’ve kept a list of books I’ve read each year—and will continue to do so—and with each ensuing year I’ve set a goal to read even more, beginning with 2014 that type of goal-setting stops for me. Below are my reasons why:

Quantity reading distracts from quality reading.  Some of my favorite books I’ve read throughout my life have taken me months to read. For example, as a teenager, it took me almost a year to read Gone with the Wind. Perhaps surprising to some, my love for reading didn’t kick in until I was in my 20s; however, I stuck with that saga when I was 17 and loved every moment I was immersed in Scarlet’s undertakings. This past year it took me six months to read The Lords of Discipline; in fact, I finished it at 11:59 p.m. on December 31, not because my goal was to add another book to my 2013 list but because I was so intrigued in the ending I couldn’t put it down. The main reason Conroy’s novel lasted so long is because I have a rule that I read only from tangible books before I go to bed—not from my eBooks—so the story of the Carolina Military Institute was restricted to my bedside. And then there’s my favorite book of all times—Orwell’s 1984—which is by no means a quick read and is one of the few books I’ve read again and again. During the time with those three books alone, I probably could have added numerous other shorter, easier—and perhaps still high quality—books to my repertoire; however, I wouldn’t trade a moment of the quality of experiences those three books have provided me.

Quantity reading sidetracks from purposeful reading and discounts other types of reading experiences. Just as focusing on purposeful reading is so much a part of reading instruction, we know that reading for a purpose is naturally embedded in our personal reading habits. In my case, besides becoming lost in books, I love my magazines, from Real Simple (my favorite) to The O, The Oprah Magazine (especially the book reviews) to Prevention (keeping my mostly healthy lifestyle on track) to Good Housekeeping (thanks to my mom for that hook) to the New Yorker (granted, I skim the selections and focus on the cartoons), and many more. I also enjoy reading several newspapers, blogs, emails, Facebook posts (and links), calendars, daily devotions, and, of course, all those student essays—yes, I enjoy reading those, too, most of the time.  Then, there are the nonfiction books, many in which I read only a few chapters, based on my professional needs and interests or based on the fact that the first chapter, which I often read from the electronic sample, is sometimes the best part of the book, with the remaining chapters being downhill from there. Occasionally—not often enough—I read some poetry, yet I’ve never felt that poetry can be enjoyed by reading entire anthologies all the way through. Finally, based on my mood, my purpose for reading changes from day to day because sometimes I need to learn something right now while other times I need to be inspired or simply need to be frivolously entertained. At the same time, I have to admit that being driven by my mood has led me to a bad habit of reading a chapter of one book and then jumping to a chapter of another book. That’s why on Goodreads, I’m claiming right now to be currently reading a ridiculous amount of books at one time. Perhaps someday I will finish War and Peace, which I started almost two years ago, but I’ll have to be in the mood to return to it. Anyway, reflecting on all the different types of reading I do, I don’t consider many of these selections countable, yet I enjoy each one and consider each type valuable. For example, how many poems does it take to equal one reading toward a quantifiable goal? Likewise, do I have to read an entire magazine to allow it to count at all? And then, to me—being a rule follower and game player—what about those picture books I read to my grandchildren? Can I count them? I’ll leave that answer up to somebody else who’s logging a list.

Quantity reading turns reading into a competition and distracts from immersion. When I used to be focused on reading for quantity, I often read with a great deal of anxiety, constantly thinking I need to finish this book so I can log it and then start the next book. For me, reading this way totally takes away from pleasurable reading and disallows me to lose myself in a book. One time period in which I became a most anxious reader fell during the three years I served on the William Allen White reading selection committee. Granted, I greatly appreciated that honor, but reading all those books during such a short period of time about did me in! At the same time, I was teaching young adult lit, so my entire reading life had to be devoted to YA and children’s literature. As a result, at the end of those three years, I craved something more adult. (Don’t get me wrong, I love YA, and that genre can still speak to me personally as an adult, but after those three years I needed something else for a while.) The goal during those years wasn’t to enjoy—it was to complete—it was to race through my reading to meet a deadline—it was to meet the expectations of claiming I had read every single book on the list or at least as many as everyone else on the committee had read. And I did just that! Similarly, again, with all due respect to my avid reading friends, I don’t want to feel a need to compete with you. Just because you’re setting a goal to read 100 books during 2014, I don’t want to feel as if I’m an inferior reader because I won’t read that many. To you, I say, “Go for it!” but, for me, whether I’d be setting a goal to measure up to you or to measure up to myself, the anxiety of the competition distracts from my ability to enjoy each reading experience.

Life takes over. Regardless of my love of reading, there are times when I just can’t read much at all. Sure, I’m still reading my email and Facebook posts and grading my essays, but being able to concentrate on a plotline or absorb new textual information just won’t happen. Many of those times concur with downtimes in my life (which I won’t go into), but other times coincide with celebratory events, such as spending time with my family and friends, attending performances and sporting events, exercising, and even watching TV. In fact, I watch and enjoy a great deal of TV, despite the fact that, instead, I could be reading. But just as I don’t want to devote hours and hours per week at the gym, I don’t want to devote hours and hours reading. For some days and even weeks, I do spend hours and hours reading, but other times, I’ll go for days without touching a book. I don’t want to feel guilty for that, nor do I want to give up my other pleasures in life because I’ve committed myself to reading a certain amount. If I were to set a goal to read 100 books during the next year, I would be making one of two choices for myself: either I would end up feeling guilty for not meeting my goal or, at least some days, I would be missing out on another experience for choosing the reading over something else just as—or more—important.

Finally, as English teachers, we need to be careful what we model for our students. Specifically, with all due respect to Donalyn Miller’s The Book Whisperer, which was one of my bibles in designing a middle school reading program a few years ago, we need to be careful when we assign our students a certain quantity of books to read each grading period. Even Donalyn backs off her expectation of all students being required to read 40 books per year, depending upon the student. And we know how some students will play that game—only by quantity. Just think how quantity drives student reading in the Accelerated Reading Program, alone. True, especially when students can choose what they read, I’ve seen many students, for the first time, begin and take off on their lifelong reading habits within a reading workshop model and then set and meet their own reading goals, but those goals don’t have to be based on the quantity of books read. Dependent upon quantity reading requirements alone, there are still those students who read—or claim to have read—the minimum amount of books with the minimum amount of required pages. We can’t turn students’ reading experiences into only quantifiable units. Instead, we need to promote reading programs that honor all types of reading occurring at a variety of rates to meet the needs of the diverse abilities and interests of all our students. Focusing on quantifiable goals alone won’t do that!

Before I close, let me make clear that I’m not judging anyone else who sets a quantifiable reading goal. If that works for you, that’s great! Instead, I’m simply sharing why such goals won’t work for me and why we need to be careful about imposing those types of goals on our students. I know I will die with an insurmountable amount of want-to-read books on my personal reading list; however, I want to enjoy whatever I choose to read until then. Also, I’m sure that within this post, I’m relaying my own inclinations toward guilt, goal-setting, and the competitive spirit. I have my own idiosyncrasies, just as everyone else does. At the same time, for those of you who might experience these same characteristics regarding your reading experiences, I encourage you to let go of any self-imposed need to read copious amounts of books and, instead, to read for the moment and enjoy!

Dot-to-Dots

Once again, as we begin a new year, I’m renewed to try to write more, and one of my past writings explains my passion for calendars. With New Year’s Day falling on Sunday, Samantha was with me to recycle the 2011 calendars, open the new 2012 calendars, and then decide where to place them. This year, thanks to my early purchases, personal creations, and a few Christmas gifts, I have at least 16 calendars scattered throughout the house (and I may still pick up a few more on sale):

Two Snoopy/Peanuts
Two general dogs
One dachshund
Mary Englebreit
Sunflowers
Scholastic books
Tinkerbelle
Day-by-day books
Linea desk calendar
Silly Tweets
Classic Trains
The Samantha Calendar
My own garden flowers

One of my new ones that I love is my dot-to-dot calendar on my desk in my home office. As a part of my 2012 daily routine, once I’m up and dressed, while waiting for my coffee to perk and my computer to boot, I do the daily dot-to-dot with great satisfaction! I must explain that, on my own, I don’t draw well—a lack-of-skill communicated to me at the age of five by my mother, who was told this by my kindergarten teacher—a story for another day. But with dot-to-dots, I can draw ANYTHING! As a result, I begin my day drawing with several reinforcements important to life: collaborating (with the unknown dot placement artist), taking things one step at a time, sticking with a project to its end, knowing that I don’t have to be able to envision the end product before I start the project, and more. Plus, I begin the day with an element of surprise and accomplishment!

Best of all, as I work throughout the day in my home office, I can glance at my creation—today’s is a fishbowl filled with a giant gold fish (yes, I even took time to get out the colored pencils)—and get a booster shot of motivation to continue working on the project of the day!

My only distraction is I’m already wondering what I’ll “draw” tomorrow.

The Role of Personal Judgment in the Classroom

I just returned from a wonderful vacation to Utah and Colorado, spending several days viewing incredible geological structures in Arches National Park, The Canyonlands National Park, Colorado Monument State Park, and Garden of the Gods. Although I’d seen two of these areas before, I just can’t get enough of their awesome beauty. Whether spiraling upward or diving into the cavernous landscape, these formations inspire me to great depths of appreciation of God’s artistry. (And as a side note, for those of you who see them as scientific formations from the evolving formation of Earth, I’m good with that, too.)

Another treat for me during these excursions is that I frequently see things in the rock. For example, there’s a formation in Arches that looks like the Magi, and I definitely see the two camels kissing at the Garden of the Gods. Other times, however, I simply see blobs of rock, which, on this trip, reminded me of the many clay formations I created during my elementary school days. You see, while other more talented classmates molded clay into recognizable animals, the best I could muster were snakes, worms, and, what I would deem to be very cool blobs. Unfortunately, my teachers weren’t as impressed, resulting in my less-than-stellar art grades. Yet, what many of us pay to see in our national parks do, indeed, mirror my long-ago creations. As a result, after what I saw the last few weeks, I’d like to officially call for a re-evaluation of my student artwork. Although I may not have created anything as inspirational as what took millions of years to form in Utah, I think I at least deserve a little more credit here!

Granted, there are many skills across the subject areas that fall on common agreed-upon standards. Most words are spelled correctly or not. Writing complete sentences is necessary to clear comprehension, unless there’s a stylistic reason for using fragments and run-ons. But the qualities of stylistic writing are frequently in the eye of the beholder. Many storylines rely on dramatic structure, but determining exactly where the climax of the storyline falls could be up to interpretation, not to mention the overall quality of the piece of literature, in general. I am not a Harry Potter fan, but, to me, it’s still high quality literature. The Twilight Series? Not even in the ballpark! But does that mean because I have an English teacher’s license that I have the right to put that “trash” stamp on the novel for everyone else? Is it based on my definition of effective style that I can evaluate what should appeal to my student readers and writers? Could I have received a higher art grade had my teacher looked at my clay blobs and thought, Wow! Those are really cool!

Putting my long-lived opinion of wishing we could throw grades out the window altogether, at the very least it’s not only fair but it’s necessary to put our own personal opinions on the doorsteps of our classrooms when it comes to areas of style, quality, effectiveness, and personal preference of some of the skills we teach. Instead, we need to encourage students to formulate their own preferences as they enter and continue their own reading and writing journeys. That’s not to say that we don’t share general opinions—or our own—but we do so in a way that validates the students in our classrooms as they come to terms with who they are as readers and writers. Approaching the instruction of our skill base this way may be our only opportunity to ensure that students value their language arts experiences so they will want to continue reading and writing on their own time outside the classroom. After all, isn’t that one of our ultimate goals?

Non-Negotiables

Visiting with a friend today, I learned that a local community pool has to close for a few weeks to correct a spring painting mistake—the painters forgot to mix the necessary granules into the paint, which prevents slippage. As a result—you guessed it—not only have several people fallen around the pool, but a few days ago a young boy fell and suffered a serious head injury. Now they have to drain the pool, repaint it, wait for it to dry, and fill it back up before reopening to the public, including many disappointed season pass holders.

Certainly, we all make mistakes, but my friend and I continued discussing the inexcusability of this one. After all, weren’t these professional painters? Hadn’t they painted pools before? Wasn’t there an inspection before filling the pool? Before opening the pool to the public, didn’t the life guards notice the safety issue as they walked the deck? All along the way, it seems that several of these different types of employees would have caught this problem based on their own training and knowledge that is a part of doing their jobs—their “non-negotiables,” if you will.

Although varied from one job description to another, we all have non-negotiables, and the rest of us outside each other’s jobs have to trust numerous people throughout our lives to know and carry out their non-negotiables. For example, as an English teacher, my non-negotiables include knowing and communicating in Standard English grammar, as well as understanding the basics of language, if for no other reason than if students can’t trust me to model language for them, they may not have that learning opportunity from anyone else. For the math teacher, details of language is a nice-to-know skill—just as math properties would be for me—as speaking “correct” English is not necessarily a non-negotiable to teach math effectively. (Granted, in my ideal world, everyone should possess the skills of language, but sometimes I have to get over myself in this area.)

In other career fields, a minister’s non-negotiable is to know the Bible; an accountant, the tax laws; an architect, building codes; a referee, the rules of the game; a doctor, the human anatomy; a travel agent, hotel accommodations and tourist attractions; a farmer, fertilizer; an air traffic controller, flight patterns; a restaurant worker, sanitation guidelines, and on and on. And I’m certainly hoping that the plumber who’s coming tomorrow to replace a toilet in my house knows the fine details of pipe mechanics! (There’s probably a better term for this, but I don’t really need to know it.)

I just finished reading Your Inner Fish, a fascinating book on evolution—totally outside my usual reading habits, but because I’ve developed an interest in science the last few years, I thought I’d give it a try. At the same time, one of the reasons I enjoyed it so much is because the information is a “nice-to-know” for me; no one expects me to be an expert on this subject. Another book on my summer reading list, however, is The Pun Also Rises—back to reinforcing my English teacher “non-negotiables.”

What are your non-negotiables?

Let's Just Be Honest

Like so many people—but not enough—I just don’t understand why people can’t be honest! Why is it so hard? In the words of Mark Twain, “If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.” In essence, being honest can eliminate a lot of stress and save a lot of time.

Representative Anthony Weiner is just the latest in a long string of politicians who thought he wouldn’t be found out. Before him, just to name a few, are John Edwards, Larry Craig, and Bill Clinton, who all denied the facts only to have to admit the truth later. When will people learn that in this age of technology and scrutinizing media, they might as well admit the truth from the start, humbly apologize—assuming they’re actually sorry or they’ll be committing another lie—and let us get on with the important things in the world.

As to Representative Weiner, he probably didn’t do anything that many other people haven’t done, childish though it is, with the convenience of a camera in almost everyone’s cell phone. Stupid and disappointing? Yes. Particularly since he’s supposed to be a role model for the rest of us, but his action wasn’t unique and probably not rare. The only ones to benefit from his embarrassing act were the comedians ready to make use of every punning opportunity they could muster. (Thank you Stephen Colbert for the “Treat Meat”!)

Once again, however, I am just as disappointed in the media for trying to make it newsworthy. I truly can’t imagine CNN’s Wolf Blitzer proud of dedicating even one second of his journalistic skills to interviewing the congressman. I want to believe Blitzer’s boss forced him to hold up the Tweeted photo during the interview. After Wolf’s coverage of the first few hours of the Persian Gulf War, surely he has no expectations of winning a Walter Cronkite Award for the Weiner interview. Wolf, you really lost some journalistic dignity on this one.

But back to the point…why is it so hard to be honest? Using superlatives is dangerous, but I truly can’t think of anything I value more than honesty. Whether in my personal or professional life, I’ve learned it’s always better to fess up to my blunders—purposeful or not—and get on with the tasks at hand, and I’ll admit that there have been times in my life when crow was a staple at my dinner table. There’s enough drama in the world without extending it by deceivingly thinking the truth WON’T out. It WILL! I can’t help but think that more relationships are weakened by holding onto a lie rather than admitting the truth and asking for forgiveness. And when we find it hard to forgive someone for admitting to stupid mistakes, just think of the last one you made. For me, I wouldn’t have to think back that far.