Teaching Cormac McCarthy

The Road by Cormac McCarthy was a summer reading choice for my students. The students who chose McCarthy's Pulitzer Prize winning novel are happy, happy readers. I haven't heard one complaint about the novel.

Today we had a great day. We have a lot of these. A student, for his presentation, put us into groups of four (I love presentations because I get to be a student). We had to leave the classroom for a bit while the student hid bags of food. Then, we took turns scavenging the classroom for the food, which of course was a bunch of candy. When it wasn't our turn to scavenge for food, we sat in the hallway and wrote in our writer's notebook about whether or not we would be a good guy or a bad guy as defined by McCarthy's novel.

The students who didn't choose The Road as a summer reading book are all headed to the library to get a copy. A movie was recently made and should be out in theaters at the end of this month. I am hoping to take the students on a field trip to see it. Viggo Mortenson will be playing the father.

For those of you who haven't read The Road, I suggest that you do. It is about a post-apocalyptic world where a man and his son travel along a road in hopes of finding some place that is not dead. The few humans left in this charred world are mostly cannibals. There is a line near the beginning of the book. I don't have the book with me, but the line says something like "If the words of the boy were not of God then God never spoke." It's a breathtaking book about the love of a father and son and the microscopic hint of hope that lingers in a cold and dead world.

High school teacher mutterings

In education classes (or during boring professional development days) we learn about the importance of student led conferences. Any one-on-one time you spend with a student is highly beneficial, but for me, there is something even more beneficial, or at least more practical than student led conferences.

The truth is that when you have 20-30 kids in a class it is nearly impossible to meet with students more than once every few weeks and even that is unlikely. What I have observed as most beneficial to high school students is to teach them how to speak to each other about literature. It is through higher level discussions that my students learn to talk about books. It is through intense writing workshops that they learn how to talk to each other about writing.

I learned how to facilitate this type of learning environment through my graduate writing classes. I wish more high school teachers could see the value of the workshop. It’s definitely hard work and requires more time, but it is invigorating and more valuable to students and their learning.

So many high school teachers are stuck in the swamp of simple comprehension questions. Do you need to know who wrote a book? Yes! Do you need to be able to recall the name of the apartment complex a character lived in at the beginning of the book? That would be nice, but I think it is much more valuable that you can discuss the character’s growth and flaw…

I don't know what the future holds for me. I am not sure if I want to always teach high school. The thought of doing any one thing for my entire life makes me feel a sense of dread. However, I do think I have something to say about teaching. I usually don't blog much about it, but I think I will start sharing snippets of what I have learned and what I am still learning in the classroom.

As a teacher...

It's hard to always be positive. The more I challenge students, the more the parents challenge me about grades. The more time I spend working on things for the classroom, the less time I have on my own writing.

I confessed to Mark Doty (a few weeks ago at his reading/craft talk) that teaching at the high school level sometimes, many times drains me. He said that I have to be able to on occasion say, "Make this. Okay good, now go make another one."

And then there is Facebook, and being department head, and....you get it. I'm always so friendly and optimistic. I'm full of ideas and help.

I'm not sure where I can really be myself. I don't even allow complaints on my blog either, really.

The truth is, I am mostly optimistic and I do truly love helping students, but somewhere in the past near decade I have lost the ability to allow myself the once-in-a-while public sigh. Or the, "I'm sorry, I just don't have time." As a result of this public image martyr syndrome, the people closest to me suffer.

For me, being a great teacher means being an okay writer, a sometimey friend, an unfocused girlfriend, and a distant daughter. Add running into the equation and time is even more scarce. I must find balance. There are so many wonderful teachers who are also wonderful at their other roles in life. I must figure this out.

Hand-me-downs

When I was a little girl, I used to get my cousin's hand-me-down clothes. I was always so excited to sort through the boxes that my aunt would send.

Now Edith gets my cousin's dog Gracie's hand-me-downs. Gracie is an adorable Boston Terrier, and lucky for Edith, Gracie must have had a growing spurt. My cousin sent Edith at least ten new outfits, some still had a tag.

My Iron Spine: A Review

New Zealand writer Helen Rickerby’s second book, My Iron Spine, is poignant, witty, tender, fun, and moving.

Rickerby has organized the book into three sections. The first section, Flashes of déjà vu, is compiled mostly of autobiographical pieces. A charming voice waltzes through the narrative, saying things like, I was playing hungry / hungry hippos / when my grandmother died or I wonder / if the Kingdom of Heaven / is like the Titanic- / not enough lifeboats.

A striking poem in this section is Eleven Fragments of God. Rickerby poetically meanders through questions, stories, and dialogue, pertaining not only to metaphysics, but also to personal grief. Corsets and comforts titles the second section of My Iron Spine. The poet writes in the persona of several women, including Artemisia Gentileschi, Mary Shelley, and Sylvia Plath.

In the third and final section, Laughing at Ophelia, the poet invents a world where she spends time with an array of historical women. Check out a few of the titles: Burning with Joan of Arc, Swimming Lessons with Virginia Woolf, Housework with Linda and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and Kate Sheppard and I go for a Ride. In the final poem, Rickerby hangs out with New Zealand born writer Katherine Mansfield. The poem, titled Partying with Katherine Mansfield starts out ‘Don’t be a bore,” says Katie / as she pulls me up by my arm / to the dance floor.

At times My Iron Spine is akin to Anne Carson’s The Glass Essay. Rickerby seamlessly layers her work with research, autobiography, and imagination. What more could a reader want from a book of poetry? Rickerby is a poet who celebrates women and their lives. Most of all, she celebrates their voices.

My Iron Spine is available through Amazon.

Gettin' paid for poetry

This is a milestone, I suppose. Aside from winning money for contests, I have never been paid for publishing a poem. So here it is, my first check from a magazine. I hope Firstmerit can cash checks from New Zealand. What is even better than receiving a check? Seeing your poem in JAAM 27. The magazine looks gorgeous. Thanks to the editor of JAAM, Helen Rickerby. My next post will be a short review of Helen's stunning, new book, My Iron Spine. I am currently savoring each poem.

Faces only a mother could love?

Of course not! Everyone can see the striking beauty in these two faces. The top picture is Telemachus; the bottom picture is Edith.