Dear all:
Please use the last two weeks on the blog to continue to discuss any pressing issues or discuss your seminar projects. Use this forum to share ideas or ask questions. You might also want to comment on the presentations and continue talking about issues they raised.
Janet
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
My buddy, Socrates, and I...
The Showalter article’s description of the Socratic approach to teaching literature puzzled me, because how my students and I proceed through that process looks rather different. Our discussions are not geared towards predetermined ends. We make it a point to stay open to new ‘takes’ on the readings. I also take much of the teacher directed aspect out of the discussions. I don’t talk, I let the students do all of the talking. I do give them a grade based on the quality/quantity of their input, but I’m generous. :) Occasionally I provide some big scoped, deep questions; but once students get an idea of ‘the type’ of discussion that’s expected, they take over from there. In some ways what we call a Socratic Seminar resembles the spirit of Parker J. Palmer’s open hospitable, spiritual learning space (mentioned in the Showalter article). Because of this atmosphere, my students last year nicknamed the Socratic Seminar, calling it Socratic Love Circle). I told them they couldn’t call it that because I’d start getting weird questions from their parents about what I was doing with their kids here at school. :)
I also like the eclectic preparatory approach. I don’t think any teacher wants to look like a dumb ass; but given stressfully short amounts of time to prepare quality lessons, I see it happening too often. I do elaborate on the ideas that my students have raised during Socratic discussions, but I usually only give myself the last five minutes of class because it’s so much more enjoyable to watch them stumble across the ideas themselves. I should mention that I’ve only used Socratic Seminars with my high-ability students, but I’ve almost gotten brave enough to try it with ‘regular’ students.
Based on the way I’ve learned and used the Socratic discussion, it seems that Socrates wouldn’t be down with teaching conflicts. Our discussions aren’t debates, there’s no winner, no losers, only ideas. Since they’re seventh grade students, of course, judgments are made during discussion, and to be frank, they’re probably necessary. Yet, we’ve encouraged an environment where you don’t judge too quickly. It seems like the best questions don’t have easy, clear, immediate answers anyway.
I briefly want to put on my persona hat though. I’ve made it a point to share my writing with my students every time that I give a large writing assignment. It took me a while to get used to the intimacy, and it is somewhat scary, just like hooks describes it. However, I hear absolutely no grumbling about the length of assignments, students have a better understanding of what I expect, and for some strange reason, they’re interested in me… oh, and my writing too. :) I think students sometimes don’t believe that we as teachers can even complete the assignments that we give them. I guess it’s kind of like proving that you can walk the walk after you’ve talked the talk.
I also like the eclectic preparatory approach. I don’t think any teacher wants to look like a dumb ass; but given stressfully short amounts of time to prepare quality lessons, I see it happening too often. I do elaborate on the ideas that my students have raised during Socratic discussions, but I usually only give myself the last five minutes of class because it’s so much more enjoyable to watch them stumble across the ideas themselves. I should mention that I’ve only used Socratic Seminars with my high-ability students, but I’ve almost gotten brave enough to try it with ‘regular’ students.
Based on the way I’ve learned and used the Socratic discussion, it seems that Socrates wouldn’t be down with teaching conflicts. Our discussions aren’t debates, there’s no winner, no losers, only ideas. Since they’re seventh grade students, of course, judgments are made during discussion, and to be frank, they’re probably necessary. Yet, we’ve encouraged an environment where you don’t judge too quickly. It seems like the best questions don’t have easy, clear, immediate answers anyway.
I briefly want to put on my persona hat though. I’ve made it a point to share my writing with my students every time that I give a large writing assignment. It took me a while to get used to the intimacy, and it is somewhat scary, just like hooks describes it. However, I hear absolutely no grumbling about the length of assignments, students have a better understanding of what I expect, and for some strange reason, they’re interested in me… oh, and my writing too. :) I think students sometimes don’t believe that we as teachers can even complete the assignments that we give them. I guess it’s kind of like proving that you can walk the walk after you’ve talked the talk.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Teaching (YA) Literature
OK, so we've really been talking about this (or around this) all semester, but next week's articles in the course pack directly address the topic of teaching. They also tackle the unanswerable, but forever fascinating, question, "Why teach literature?" Showalter even discusses the perhaps-even-more-difficult question, "What is literature?"
We're at the end of the coursepack, and we only have a few more weeks left in the semester. So, at this point, what do you think about teaching YA literature? Why do you think you (we) teach literature? Do any of Showalter's or hooks' or Appelman's or Rosenblatt's theories speak to you? Why or why not? If they do, which ones and how?
J
We're at the end of the coursepack, and we only have a few more weeks left in the semester. So, at this point, what do you think about teaching YA literature? Why do you think you (we) teach literature? Do any of Showalter's or hooks' or Appelman's or Rosenblatt's theories speak to you? Why or why not? If they do, which ones and how?
J
what are the benefits of reading literature?
Although I like to read literature I never thought of the things that I’m seeking from literature. My teachers in elementary and secondary schools never explicitly or implicitly allowed me to taste the value of the assigned readings. The main purpose for reading literature was to answer the discussion questions following the reading session, and then to master the correct answers to pass the exam. I never thought of other benefits of reading literature because no body taught me to enjoy reading it. No one was able to teach me, at least, one of the reasons for reading literature that were mentioned in the Literacy and Experience article. They never invite me to explore that literature can comfort me, touch me, amuse me, make me dream, make me laugh, make me shudder, make me weep, make me think, or make me learn things about the kinds of people and ways of life alien to my own. I was ignorant of the power of literature on one’s life.
I would say that if one gets the chance to know the benefits and values of something, he or she may start to think to try that thing. For example, I started to drink green tea after I have read an article about the health benefits of green tea. Same thing with Literature; if our students, specially those who hate to read literature, have the chance to learn the benefits and values of reading literature they may decide to try it, never know they may love it! If they like it the would keep tasting different types of literature until they reach to the point that they are enjoy reading literature not for the sake of exams but for the sake of entertaining themselves.
Many students feel that literature is totally isolated from their practical life, but it is the role of a teacher to bring these issues clear to them and model how literature can be a reflection, in some way or another, of our world and our life whether in the past, present, or future.
I would say that if one gets the chance to know the benefits and values of something, he or she may start to think to try that thing. For example, I started to drink green tea after I have read an article about the health benefits of green tea. Same thing with Literature; if our students, specially those who hate to read literature, have the chance to learn the benefits and values of reading literature they may decide to try it, never know they may love it! If they like it the would keep tasting different types of literature until they reach to the point that they are enjoy reading literature not for the sake of exams but for the sake of entertaining themselves.
Many students feel that literature is totally isolated from their practical life, but it is the role of a teacher to bring these issues clear to them and model how literature can be a reflection, in some way or another, of our world and our life whether in the past, present, or future.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics
Heather, thanks for sending that article to us. It's quite relevant to the discussions we've been having lately.
One of the author's points makes me wonder, though...Kathleen Kennedy Manzo cites the following information as an argument in support of the idea that canonical texts are somehow no longer serving students' needs:
"Reading scores on national tests may reflect students’ dissatisfaction with the content of their English classes. On the latest 12th grade National Assessment of Educational Progress, one-fourth of students tested could not demonstrate even basic skills on the test of reading comprehension and text analysis. Another third scored at the basic level, which requires overall understanding of text excerpts, as well as some interpretation and analysis."
So, if one-fourth (or three-twelfths) of students are below average (or basic), and one-third (or four-twelfths) of students are average (or at the basic level), doesn't that mean that five-twelfths (or almost half) of the students are above average? I fail to see why this information is alarming. It sounds like a pretty regular distribution to me.
If I'm missing something here, please let me know. Any thoughts?
One of the author's points makes me wonder, though...Kathleen Kennedy Manzo cites the following information as an argument in support of the idea that canonical texts are somehow no longer serving students' needs:
"Reading scores on national tests may reflect students’ dissatisfaction with the content of their English classes. On the latest 12th grade National Assessment of Educational Progress, one-fourth of students tested could not demonstrate even basic skills on the test of reading comprehension and text analysis. Another third scored at the basic level, which requires overall understanding of text excerpts, as well as some interpretation and analysis."
So, if one-fourth (or three-twelfths) of students are below average (or basic), and one-third (or four-twelfths) of students are average (or at the basic level), doesn't that mean that five-twelfths (or almost half) of the students are above average? I fail to see why this information is alarming. It sounds like a pretty regular distribution to me.
If I'm missing something here, please let me know. Any thoughts?
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Trauma week
I am asking my students to read, Bridge to Terabithia, so I thought I would read the book for this class and be ahead a little bit as the class begins mid-April. The book, published in 1977 has become popular again to the recent movie release. Katherine Paterson wrote the book to help her son and herself as they grieved the death of one of her son's friends as he was growing up. The book has themain characters as young adults who become friends and then are separated by a tragic accident. Leslie tragically dies trying to cross the creek leading to Terabithia while Jesse, her best friend is attending a fieldtrip with a teacher. Jesse must deal with the grief and regret that the accident may not have occurred if not for his selfishness in not asking Leslie to go along with them to the art museum. The story is realistic, students should be able to come to terms with death and literature can certainly help.
I also had the chance to view the movie as well as view the 1985 movie version on DVD, they are different and rich with symbolism.. I will ask my students to complete a graphic organizer(remember last week as they will read the novel, view the 1985 movie version and then we will attend as a class and see the recent movie release). The process of death and dying is hard for all let alone students. I can recall specific incidents at the elementary school where I was principal at: a house fire claiming the lives of 5 students, a car accident claiming the lives of 2 students, and a suicide by a seventh grader. The faculty, staff, students, parents, and community assisted each other during those terrible times. And we read literature and poetry to assist us.
I also had the chance to view the movie as well as view the 1985 movie version on DVD, they are different and rich with symbolism.. I will ask my students to complete a graphic organizer(remember last week as they will read the novel, view the 1985 movie version and then we will attend as a class and see the recent movie release). The process of death and dying is hard for all let alone students. I can recall specific incidents at the elementary school where I was principal at: a house fire claiming the lives of 5 students, a car accident claiming the lives of 2 students, and a suicide by a seventh grader. The faculty, staff, students, parents, and community assisted each other during those terrible times. And we read literature and poetry to assist us.
Vicarious Trauma
I will apologize in advance if some of what I’m about to say sounds too blunt or insensitive to some, but I’m having a difficult time understanding the need to “protect” children and young adults from trauma. Of course, we should do everything in our power to prevent young adults from having to endure traumatic experiences that are indeed preventable, but when does such prevention morph into some sort of shield from reality that is, in effect, unhealthy?
For example, some youth sports organizations no longer hold championship tournaments or encourage competition for the title of “best” or “champion.” Many youth leagues now eschew “competitive” sports in favor of “participatory” sports—every child who participates receives a “trophy” or some other token to acknowledge his/her participation. Often, the motive behind such “Isn’t-it-wonderful-that- everyone-had-a-chance-to-participate?” gestures is the idea that losing (or failure) would be unnecessarily traumatic for the children who do not win. It’s just too upsetting for a child to have to understand the concept of failure.
The toxic byproducts of such practices are numerous—children don’t get a chance to learn how to cope with disappointments or the failure to get what they want and quite often grow up to be narcissistic, self-centered adults. Because they have been shielded from trauma, they irrationally believe that life should conform to their expectations. The result is often an inaccurate perception of the world with themselves and their desires as the focal point. When things don’t turn out as they wish (a sort of trauma for which they are unprepared), they do not have the skills or knowledge to cope.
It’s healthy for children to experience trauma, whether vicarious or genuine. I am not advocating an increase in traumatic experiences for children, but I am asserting that we need to teach children how to cope with trauma when it occurs, instead of trying to convince them that it doesn’t exist or creating a world for them that is artificially free of trauma.
When I first heard about Follow the North Star, a program sponsored by Conner Prairie, I was appalled. The program simulates for students the experience of being a runaway slave. I reacted with revulsion, believing that it would be unnecessarily brutal for students to experience the trauma of life as a fugitive slave. But then I reconsidered—what better way to bring the experience to life for students? Besides, any trauma involved would be temporary—but the impact would most likely be powerful and permanent.
In I Am Not Esther by Fleur Beale, Kirby, the 14 year-old protagonist, is abandoned by her mother and left to live with relatives she never knew she had. These relatives, members of a fundamentalist, fanatical Christian cult, give Kirby a new name (Esther) and do all they can to erase her former identity and recreate her as a “seemly” Christian girl. The novel, set in New Zealand, is very well written; Beale depicts Kirby’s genuine despair over her situation and portrays Kirby as a resourceful and assertive young woman who figures out how to overcome desperate circumstances (and rescue others in the process). In Kirby, Beale has created a complex, realistic heroine who is vulnerable yet resolute, capable of experiencing both sorrow and triumph.
Would I Am Not Esther traumatize some students? Perhaps. Would it be an appropriate text to use in a class? Absolutely.
For example, some youth sports organizations no longer hold championship tournaments or encourage competition for the title of “best” or “champion.” Many youth leagues now eschew “competitive” sports in favor of “participatory” sports—every child who participates receives a “trophy” or some other token to acknowledge his/her participation. Often, the motive behind such “Isn’t-it-wonderful-that- everyone-had-a-chance-to-participate?” gestures is the idea that losing (or failure) would be unnecessarily traumatic for the children who do not win. It’s just too upsetting for a child to have to understand the concept of failure.
The toxic byproducts of such practices are numerous—children don’t get a chance to learn how to cope with disappointments or the failure to get what they want and quite often grow up to be narcissistic, self-centered adults. Because they have been shielded from trauma, they irrationally believe that life should conform to their expectations. The result is often an inaccurate perception of the world with themselves and their desires as the focal point. When things don’t turn out as they wish (a sort of trauma for which they are unprepared), they do not have the skills or knowledge to cope.
It’s healthy for children to experience trauma, whether vicarious or genuine. I am not advocating an increase in traumatic experiences for children, but I am asserting that we need to teach children how to cope with trauma when it occurs, instead of trying to convince them that it doesn’t exist or creating a world for them that is artificially free of trauma.
When I first heard about Follow the North Star, a program sponsored by Conner Prairie, I was appalled. The program simulates for students the experience of being a runaway slave. I reacted with revulsion, believing that it would be unnecessarily brutal for students to experience the trauma of life as a fugitive slave. But then I reconsidered—what better way to bring the experience to life for students? Besides, any trauma involved would be temporary—but the impact would most likely be powerful and permanent.
In I Am Not Esther by Fleur Beale, Kirby, the 14 year-old protagonist, is abandoned by her mother and left to live with relatives she never knew she had. These relatives, members of a fundamentalist, fanatical Christian cult, give Kirby a new name (Esther) and do all they can to erase her former identity and recreate her as a “seemly” Christian girl. The novel, set in New Zealand, is very well written; Beale depicts Kirby’s genuine despair over her situation and portrays Kirby as a resourceful and assertive young woman who figures out how to overcome desperate circumstances (and rescue others in the process). In Kirby, Beale has created a complex, realistic heroine who is vulnerable yet resolute, capable of experiencing both sorrow and triumph.
Would I Am Not Esther traumatize some students? Perhaps. Would it be an appropriate text to use in a class? Absolutely.
Trauma and My Books for the Week
An excellent discussion this week on the blog. I really enjoyed reading every one's comments etc.
In response to Janet's question and her exceptional article: everyone else may not agree, but I agree with Kali Tal that com modifying historical traumatizing events isn't always a bad thing, and possibly necessary for future generations. "Kali Tal claims such "com modification" is essential to any historical event if it is to be remembered by society." Now, there's a huge difference in the types of "com modification" we can teach or view through film etc. Again, like any other piece of work it becomes the teacher's job to filter out the bad and find the good, accurate, representative texts.
I am really interested in this filtering of representative texts and teaching of history through secondary witnessing, as I am a big fan of historical texts. I am focusing my presentation in a few weeks and report on the benefits of historical fiction, in terms of remembering historical events through fiction (with fictional characters, but true historical setting or events.) I am interested in the way that literature integrates with social studies, and how when used it is more effective in reaching students. I commented on a study I read for research under Charlie's blog, and the retention rate for students reading historical lit as opposed to text books. Janet brought up a great point to the challenge of such literature in her article, as students "become more historically distant (and hence emotionally and psychologically distant) from an event, the challenges to teach such works are greater. I agree that secondary witnessing and traumatizing students through texts, helps them work past the boredom and old stuff to empathy, understanding an appreciation for the greater good of humanity through characters. In this case, the vicarious traumatization is good and I would even argue expected. How could someone read a work such as Ellie Wiesel's "Night," which I read for this week and not be traumatized? As I stated earlier, it was a book I had a hard time finishing because of the reality of the events and the power it evoked for the suffering of Holocaust survivors and victims. Reading Kali Tal's article, in which she explains the reasoning for Wiesel honoring Henry Kissinger as a fellow survivor, when in fact he was never at Auschwitz, but lost many family members there; seems strange to me. Kissinger may be able to experience secondary witnessing of the event or vicarious traumatization, but I don't see how someone who wasn't a victim could even come close to the same trauma as a survivor, such as Wiesel?
In thinking of teaching historical lit, Janet's comments on the risk that such literature takes as it becomes "less real" and more distant for students, is important to consider. How can we move beyond the cynicism or boredom of such students as "Steve." What can a teacher do to turn this rebellious type attitude? Or furthermore, something I considered; what can an educator or should an educator do when faced with a student who actually believes the extreme ie. (That the Holocaust didn't happen, that minority groups such as blacks were not mistreated in history etc. etc.?)
Being that I was on a trip last week, I had lots of reading time and read two books in the category of trauma. "Night," I already commented on some, and Lisa has, as well. So, I will move to a piece of historical fiction "My Brother Sam is Dead," by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher Collier. I found it very interesting and different than other historical fiction as it approached the topic of the American Revolution. Tim Meeker is living in Redding during the outbreak of the American Revolution. His older brother, Sam, a Patriot, who he admires greatly has enlisted in the "new" American Revolutionary Army. Tim's father is angered by this, as he is a Tory and loyal supporter of the British King, as are most of the members of their community. It is a personal and political struggle for Tim, as he feels pressured to choose between his father and his brother, his king and the new country in which he lives, and what he believes. The discourse between father and son and brother to brother, shows a timeless fight over the injustices and beliefs of war (one that has continued since the American Revolution and still happens today.) Tim comes of age by the end of the novel, through traumatizing events such as the death of his brother (as we get from the title.) Tim mentions several times he doesn't feel like a child anymore. There are several points where different characters express how "war turns men into beasts." Not only does the reader witness the effects of war from the slider's standpoint or politically, but also the trauma it caused family members through Sam's mother, father and brother. I will not give away the ending and the way in which Sam dies (but it is a powerful read.) Although the characters are fictional, the research behind the time period is great and the way in which historical facts are woven into the text makes it a great book to teach. Students will learn about treason and loyalty to the King, the importance of religion in this time, a spilt between the Presbyterian church and the Anglicans, the scarcity of food and clothing for both sliders and civilians, the American colonies, the punishment for desertion and treason of a soldier etc.
Staci
In response to Janet's question and her exceptional article: everyone else may not agree, but I agree with Kali Tal that com modifying historical traumatizing events isn't always a bad thing, and possibly necessary for future generations. "Kali Tal claims such "com modification" is essential to any historical event if it is to be remembered by society." Now, there's a huge difference in the types of "com modification" we can teach or view through film etc. Again, like any other piece of work it becomes the teacher's job to filter out the bad and find the good, accurate, representative texts.
I am really interested in this filtering of representative texts and teaching of history through secondary witnessing, as I am a big fan of historical texts. I am focusing my presentation in a few weeks and report on the benefits of historical fiction, in terms of remembering historical events through fiction (with fictional characters, but true historical setting or events.) I am interested in the way that literature integrates with social studies, and how when used it is more effective in reaching students. I commented on a study I read for research under Charlie's blog, and the retention rate for students reading historical lit as opposed to text books. Janet brought up a great point to the challenge of such literature in her article, as students "become more historically distant (and hence emotionally and psychologically distant) from an event, the challenges to teach such works are greater. I agree that secondary witnessing and traumatizing students through texts, helps them work past the boredom and old stuff to empathy, understanding an appreciation for the greater good of humanity through characters. In this case, the vicarious traumatization is good and I would even argue expected. How could someone read a work such as Ellie Wiesel's "Night," which I read for this week and not be traumatized? As I stated earlier, it was a book I had a hard time finishing because of the reality of the events and the power it evoked for the suffering of Holocaust survivors and victims. Reading Kali Tal's article, in which she explains the reasoning for Wiesel honoring Henry Kissinger as a fellow survivor, when in fact he was never at Auschwitz, but lost many family members there; seems strange to me. Kissinger may be able to experience secondary witnessing of the event or vicarious traumatization, but I don't see how someone who wasn't a victim could even come close to the same trauma as a survivor, such as Wiesel?
In thinking of teaching historical lit, Janet's comments on the risk that such literature takes as it becomes "less real" and more distant for students, is important to consider. How can we move beyond the cynicism or boredom of such students as "Steve." What can a teacher do to turn this rebellious type attitude? Or furthermore, something I considered; what can an educator or should an educator do when faced with a student who actually believes the extreme ie. (That the Holocaust didn't happen, that minority groups such as blacks were not mistreated in history etc. etc.?)
Being that I was on a trip last week, I had lots of reading time and read two books in the category of trauma. "Night," I already commented on some, and Lisa has, as well. So, I will move to a piece of historical fiction "My Brother Sam is Dead," by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher Collier. I found it very interesting and different than other historical fiction as it approached the topic of the American Revolution. Tim Meeker is living in Redding during the outbreak of the American Revolution. His older brother, Sam, a Patriot, who he admires greatly has enlisted in the "new" American Revolutionary Army. Tim's father is angered by this, as he is a Tory and loyal supporter of the British King, as are most of the members of their community. It is a personal and political struggle for Tim, as he feels pressured to choose between his father and his brother, his king and the new country in which he lives, and what he believes. The discourse between father and son and brother to brother, shows a timeless fight over the injustices and beliefs of war (one that has continued since the American Revolution and still happens today.) Tim comes of age by the end of the novel, through traumatizing events such as the death of his brother (as we get from the title.) Tim mentions several times he doesn't feel like a child anymore. There are several points where different characters express how "war turns men into beasts." Not only does the reader witness the effects of war from the slider's standpoint or politically, but also the trauma it caused family members through Sam's mother, father and brother. I will not give away the ending and the way in which Sam dies (but it is a powerful read.) Although the characters are fictional, the research behind the time period is great and the way in which historical facts are woven into the text makes it a great book to teach. Students will learn about treason and loyalty to the King, the importance of religion in this time, a spilt between the Presbyterian church and the Anglicans, the scarcity of food and clothing for both sliders and civilians, the American colonies, the punishment for desertion and treason of a soldier etc.
Staci
Monday, April 2, 2007
I'm kinda sick, so this will be cut shor
As a preface, let me say that in the past few years when movies have been made depicting the 9/11 flights (World Trade Center and United 93 come to mind) I boycotted those films for the sole reason that aesthetic merit aside, I saw no benefit in dramatizing an event of that magnitude less than five years after it occurred. I understand that for the families directly related to the attacks, the films brought a sense of closure. But at what cost? In this case, do the ends justify the means? Are we not walking a very fine line as a culture of consumption between blending reality with folklore. If this culture eventually results in the fictionalization of the event, would we still say it is worth it? So ends my preface. I'm finding it difficult to distinguish between world events and trauma. I feel as though, and I may be going out on the limb here, but with regards to YA Lit, the majority of the texts function as sort of a magnification of teenage trauma. Thus, a test serves not merely as an exam but an entity the results of which could mean certain (social) death should it be a failure. A dance evolves into a ritual, a right of passage through which one must pass in order to gain acceptance into the upper strati of contemporary culture. I guess what I'm saying is, with regards to trauma, how different are the events of 9/11 and a high school relationship insofar as the weight they are given in YA books? What are the obligations of teachers and authors in separating the two? Certainly the deaths of 12 million Europeans should never be viewed through the same lens as sexual experimentation during senior year, but how many different kinds of trauma are there and by what standards do we measure the psychological effects of specific events? I apologize for the more interrogative tone to this and wish to again note that I am not feeling well at all and so will leave you for the time being. Ta and see yall tomorrow!
Shut Up, White Man, and Teach!
I think I was traumatized by the course pack this week! Or maybe that's just the useless yet empowered and resentful white male in me talking. I probably shouldn't joke, but even a white boy like me should be able to find something useful to say about Trauma. Let me tell you about how I "traumatized" former students. Ah, I remember it like it was yesterday…
When I helped to teach a multi-curricular seventh grade Holocaust unit at North Putnam Middle School, I developed an introductory activity to help students understand the limits of what they could understand about the Holocaust. I informed the class that their grade would be based exclusively on their cooperation, listening carefully, and following directions --the first of which was that there would be no talking or noise throughout the entire activity. I instructed the class to stand up, push their chairs in, take off their shoes and place them on the desk in front of them. When the inevitable giggles arose, I made an example of a "disruptive" student by telling the student that he or she had failed and would sit out the rest of the activity. Then, continuing my dehumanizing tactics, I instructed students to empty out their pockets into their shoes and remove necklaces and rings and such. I was fortunate enough to have a book storage closet next to my room, which with the help of some generous lengths of cloth I created a long, narrow, dimly lit "boxcar" of a train.
Since this was an introductory activity, I typically could get the whole class jammed in there and sitting down while only kicking out or "failing" a few students. Once we were in the "boxcar", I asked them to close their eyes and I read them a scenario explaining that a new government with a raving lunatic of a leader had taken over the country and for their own safety and protection they were being taken to a safe place where their parents would join them later. This was all being done for the good of the country. I expressed sympathy for their confusion, however, and allowed them to write a quick note that I would make sure was delivered. The catch was that the train was leaving soon, and they would have only a few minutes to write if they wanted their messages delivered. I then tossed at them a few pieces of scrap paper and the crappiest pencils that I had gathered all year from the floor of my classroom.
The clatter of the writing materials hitting the floor and my blank expression had most of them imaging that I was the meanest son of a bitch that ever lived, especially when they realized that there weren't enough materials for everyone and I wouldn't respond to their gestures to supply more. Sometimes students would tear what little paper they had in half or share a pencil stub with a fellow student if it even had lead in it. Other times they'd sit there just looking frustrated by the situation. After a few minutes of writing, I informed them that they had exactly thirty seconds to gather all of the "letters" and pencils in a tidy pile at my feet if they wanted the messages delivered. I then counted down from thirty, skipping a few numbers along the way, and watched them scramble. They always made it on time.
After we returned to the classroom and they put clothing and jewelry back on, we discussed what they already knew about the Holocaust. Of course they had heard some things from upperclassmen or had read a little about it. We discussed the similarities (you probably noticed a few ☺) between our activity and what really happened; but more importantly, we pointed out the differences. I usually got discussion around to the point where they agreed that even if I laid tracks down behind the school and rented a train with boxcars, the experience still wouldn't even be close to authentic. We could never recreate it, and therefore, never truly understand what these people went through, and that was our starting point. The activity was also useful to help explain how something this unbelievable could happen. After all, I got them on the way to Auschwitz with very little trouble at all. I did allow the "failing" troublemakers to earn back their grades if they could guess what probably would've happened to if they acted out of line during a deportation, they always guessed it. ☺
Nice teaching story, Charlie, but do you have a point? Why, yes, I do. I believe in secondary witnessing. Sure language will fail to share the experience completely, it always has. Yet if we swim around in the related testimonies and media and text, how can we not glean at least some understanding of the event's complexities? How can we not see structures of injustice? Or structures of political erasure or redefinition? Can't we pull a few signifieds and 'roys' ☺ from the chains of meaning and come closer to 'an understanding' without putting on their shoes or lack of shoes? I don't think you have to be a member of a marginalized group of people to do this. To know what you're talking about, you have to dive into the subject, think, and be careful in how you present what you've learned: "According to this witnesss... Some survivors say..."
I also don't think a political agenda lurks behind all trauma instruction. When our team of teachers presented the Holocaust unit to students, we weren't trying to justify the state of Israel, we just wanted students to respect each other an treat each other better than they might normally be inclined. I don't think it was even politics with a lowercase 'p'. I enjoy Foucault's 'power wrestling analysis' as much as anyone, but at what point do we assume some agency in our local social constructions? When we finished the unit, I felt like we had oriented our students in a positive, productive, healthy, humanistic direction: lifting each other up instead of putting each other down. Amen.
When I helped to teach a multi-curricular seventh grade Holocaust unit at North Putnam Middle School, I developed an introductory activity to help students understand the limits of what they could understand about the Holocaust. I informed the class that their grade would be based exclusively on their cooperation, listening carefully, and following directions --the first of which was that there would be no talking or noise throughout the entire activity. I instructed the class to stand up, push their chairs in, take off their shoes and place them on the desk in front of them. When the inevitable giggles arose, I made an example of a "disruptive" student by telling the student that he or she had failed and would sit out the rest of the activity. Then, continuing my dehumanizing tactics, I instructed students to empty out their pockets into their shoes and remove necklaces and rings and such. I was fortunate enough to have a book storage closet next to my room, which with the help of some generous lengths of cloth I created a long, narrow, dimly lit "boxcar" of a train.
Since this was an introductory activity, I typically could get the whole class jammed in there and sitting down while only kicking out or "failing" a few students. Once we were in the "boxcar", I asked them to close their eyes and I read them a scenario explaining that a new government with a raving lunatic of a leader had taken over the country and for their own safety and protection they were being taken to a safe place where their parents would join them later. This was all being done for the good of the country. I expressed sympathy for their confusion, however, and allowed them to write a quick note that I would make sure was delivered. The catch was that the train was leaving soon, and they would have only a few minutes to write if they wanted their messages delivered. I then tossed at them a few pieces of scrap paper and the crappiest pencils that I had gathered all year from the floor of my classroom.
The clatter of the writing materials hitting the floor and my blank expression had most of them imaging that I was the meanest son of a bitch that ever lived, especially when they realized that there weren't enough materials for everyone and I wouldn't respond to their gestures to supply more. Sometimes students would tear what little paper they had in half or share a pencil stub with a fellow student if it even had lead in it. Other times they'd sit there just looking frustrated by the situation. After a few minutes of writing, I informed them that they had exactly thirty seconds to gather all of the "letters" and pencils in a tidy pile at my feet if they wanted the messages delivered. I then counted down from thirty, skipping a few numbers along the way, and watched them scramble. They always made it on time.
After we returned to the classroom and they put clothing and jewelry back on, we discussed what they already knew about the Holocaust. Of course they had heard some things from upperclassmen or had read a little about it. We discussed the similarities (you probably noticed a few ☺) between our activity and what really happened; but more importantly, we pointed out the differences. I usually got discussion around to the point where they agreed that even if I laid tracks down behind the school and rented a train with boxcars, the experience still wouldn't even be close to authentic. We could never recreate it, and therefore, never truly understand what these people went through, and that was our starting point. The activity was also useful to help explain how something this unbelievable could happen. After all, I got them on the way to Auschwitz with very little trouble at all. I did allow the "failing" troublemakers to earn back their grades if they could guess what probably would've happened to if they acted out of line during a deportation, they always guessed it. ☺
Nice teaching story, Charlie, but do you have a point? Why, yes, I do. I believe in secondary witnessing. Sure language will fail to share the experience completely, it always has. Yet if we swim around in the related testimonies and media and text, how can we not glean at least some understanding of the event's complexities? How can we not see structures of injustice? Or structures of political erasure or redefinition? Can't we pull a few signifieds and 'roys' ☺ from the chains of meaning and come closer to 'an understanding' without putting on their shoes or lack of shoes? I don't think you have to be a member of a marginalized group of people to do this. To know what you're talking about, you have to dive into the subject, think, and be careful in how you present what you've learned: "According to this witnesss... Some survivors say..."
I also don't think a political agenda lurks behind all trauma instruction. When our team of teachers presented the Holocaust unit to students, we weren't trying to justify the state of Israel, we just wanted students to respect each other an treat each other better than they might normally be inclined. I don't think it was even politics with a lowercase 'p'. I enjoy Foucault's 'power wrestling analysis' as much as anyone, but at what point do we assume some agency in our local social constructions? When we finished the unit, I felt like we had oriented our students in a positive, productive, healthy, humanistic direction: lifting each other up instead of putting each other down. Amen.
Trauma
I too thought this week’s articles would concentrate more on bibilotherapy and what Janet refers to as “secondary witnessing” (87). I like the notion of “secondary witnessing” because it reaffirms why I teach literature. In teaching literature, educators are able to expose students to injustices, to traumas (however one defines it), to the lived experiences of humanity in a safe environment, or so I thought until I read this week’s articles.
I think Janet raises powerful questions on educators’ responsibilities to students when introducing traumatic texts. The question that I find challenging is, “…how can we justify forcing students into crisis?” (76). The problem for me becomes if a text that I introduce in my classroom results in an unforeseen crisis for one or more of my students, what is my responsibility—ethically, professionally, personally?
Before reading this week’s articles and the YA text Cut by Patricia McCormick, I thought of the traumatic genre quite narrowly. For whatever reason, I thought of traumatic texts dealing with more large scale, collective traumas—wars, genocides, disasters, etc. I neglected to take into consideration trauma as it is experienced on an individual level, as in the novel Cut.
In this YA novel, McCormick introduces the reader to a young teenage girl named Callie who suffers from cutting (the act of cutting one’s skin as a way of coping or punishing oneself). Callie is a guest at Sea Pines, a psychiatric hospital along with other young women suffering from a variety of conditions, such as drug addictions and eating disorders. The story is told from Callie’s perspective. Since she has arrived at the hospital she has stopped talking. She makes no attempt to talk to her roommate, her therapy group, or her psychologist. The story is about her journey in understanding the cause of her condition and her interactions with the other girls in her therapy group. The narrative is very real and at times distributing, but it draws the reader into the world of a person who feels helpless, hopeless, and trapped and can’t seem to figure out why.
This book challenged my definition of “trauma” and I began to understand the different ways in which a person could relate and define trauma. For me as a teacher, it becomes challenging to think (in advance) how to deal with student responses to traumatic texts, especially if I’m not aware of their experience with a particular situation.
I think Janet raises powerful questions on educators’ responsibilities to students when introducing traumatic texts. The question that I find challenging is, “…how can we justify forcing students into crisis?” (76). The problem for me becomes if a text that I introduce in my classroom results in an unforeseen crisis for one or more of my students, what is my responsibility—ethically, professionally, personally?
Before reading this week’s articles and the YA text Cut by Patricia McCormick, I thought of the traumatic genre quite narrowly. For whatever reason, I thought of traumatic texts dealing with more large scale, collective traumas—wars, genocides, disasters, etc. I neglected to take into consideration trauma as it is experienced on an individual level, as in the novel Cut.
In this YA novel, McCormick introduces the reader to a young teenage girl named Callie who suffers from cutting (the act of cutting one’s skin as a way of coping or punishing oneself). Callie is a guest at Sea Pines, a psychiatric hospital along with other young women suffering from a variety of conditions, such as drug addictions and eating disorders. The story is told from Callie’s perspective. Since she has arrived at the hospital she has stopped talking. She makes no attempt to talk to her roommate, her therapy group, or her psychologist. The story is about her journey in understanding the cause of her condition and her interactions with the other girls in her therapy group. The narrative is very real and at times distributing, but it draws the reader into the world of a person who feels helpless, hopeless, and trapped and can’t seem to figure out why.
This book challenged my definition of “trauma” and I began to understand the different ways in which a person could relate and define trauma. For me as a teacher, it becomes challenging to think (in advance) how to deal with student responses to traumatic texts, especially if I’m not aware of their experience with a particular situation.
Can't Get There From Here
The first time in my life when I saw “real” homeless people was in 2005 in New York City. It was such a paradoxical scene; when I looked up high I was astonished by the high sky scrapers and huge building, but when I looked down I saw people taking the street their home. I felt really sorry about the “injustice” that we face in this world, and how humans hurt humans. The image of the homeless people that I saw in New York never left me while I was reading this book: Can’t Get There From Here, by Todd Strasser.
The runaways' story is told from the perspective of a fifteen-years-old girl called Maybe, who, along with the other homeless members of her makeshift street family (OG, Country Club, Jewel, 2Moro, Maggot, Rainbow and Tears) has been abused and rejected, tries to survive in a very dangerous world.
I felt totally engaged with the book from the very first page which opens with a quote by one of the characters, OG. "Here is where you are. There is where you want to be. But you can't get there from here."
I felt more sympathetic with the story characters when it touches upon other inhumane, mature themes, such as sexual abuse, physical abuse, alcohol poisoning, suicide, drug use and prostitution.
It is not all doom and gloom though; glimmers of light are found in a compassionate librarian and adult leaders of a group house. Librarian Anthony in particular rushes too fast to protect the teens, offering food and use of his office without logically reporting the situation to professionals.
Although several end up dying, yet the conclusion offers hope as Maybe saves a friend—and perhaps herself. She realizes at the conclusion of the book if “you tried, you could get somewhere.”
After I have read this book, I felt as if I have spent a few days in the shoes of a homeless kid!
The runaways' story is told from the perspective of a fifteen-years-old girl called Maybe, who, along with the other homeless members of her makeshift street family (OG, Country Club, Jewel, 2Moro, Maggot, Rainbow and Tears) has been abused and rejected, tries to survive in a very dangerous world.
I felt totally engaged with the book from the very first page which opens with a quote by one of the characters, OG. "Here is where you are. There is where you want to be. But you can't get there from here."
I felt more sympathetic with the story characters when it touches upon other inhumane, mature themes, such as sexual abuse, physical abuse, alcohol poisoning, suicide, drug use and prostitution.
It is not all doom and gloom though; glimmers of light are found in a compassionate librarian and adult leaders of a group house. Librarian Anthony in particular rushes too fast to protect the teens, offering food and use of his office without logically reporting the situation to professionals.
Although several end up dying, yet the conclusion offers hope as Maybe saves a friend—and perhaps herself. She realizes at the conclusion of the book if “you tried, you could get somewhere.”
After I have read this book, I felt as if I have spent a few days in the shoes of a homeless kid!
Pedagogies of Trauma
Hello, all. Joy and Lisa have started an excellent discussion about this week's articles already, but I thought I'd jump in with some questions/comments. While none of these articles is about YA lit specifically, I think they address issues and concerns we have been talking about all semester. To what extent does a text about "trauma" lead to the healing of both the author and the reader? To what extent do such texts merely "commodify" or "codify" (in Tal's words) the event for public consumption (or even for subversive political use)? And if they do commodify or turn a trauma into a type of cultural story or myth (like 9-11 or the Holocaust or even the "story" of the rape victim), is this a bad thing? Do you think readers or viewers of texts about trauma can experience "vicarious traumatization" as Kaplan describes it? If so, what does this mean? Is such vicarious experience of traumatic events a good thing? Is it something we should welcome in a literature or film class? Both Kaplan and Tal talk about something they call "bearing witness" to a traumatic event, whatever it may be, and how such witnessing is different from just being a viewer or a reader--it is more than just "identifying" with a character or group of people--it actually urges readers/viewers to _take action_ and initiate some real world change. What do you think of this? I'd say that all teachers want their students to change the world in positive ways, but how do we work through the cynicism, resistance, and even boredom? How do we get them to do more than simply identify with a character who is supposedly "like them"? Do we have to traumatize them through representational texts?
Janet
Janet
Sunday, April 1, 2007
The week's articles
Wow, these articles went in a totally different direction than I was expecting! I predicted that they might make a case for trauma lit based on vicariously experiencing traumatic events or as a form of bibliotherapy for those in similar situations. I never expected them to question the ethics of exposing students to trauma literature nor did I foresee the depiction of a student's rebellion against Holocaust lit. -Even though, I probably should have.
You see, I had a similar experience with my brother involving a women's studies course he was taking. I accidentally came across his final paper for the class and decided to read his thoughts on the oppression of women in third-world countries and I was appalled. In a way similar to Steve's, my brother powerfully argued that the oppression described in the class's books and lectures was not really happening. This was a few years back, so it is difficult for me to recall what his basis for the arguments was, but he is an excellent students and I remember the paper being extremely well written and thorough.
I was so upset that I woke him up to talk about his work. Like Steve, he said that he didn't really believe that these women were not be oppressed and abused, however, he was angry at the professor for providing only one option for the paper. He described her as a "man-hater" that would have to give him an A because he did his research and supported his argument well. And, he did get an A on the paper and in the class, but his teacher expressed her disappointment and concern when he met her to get the paper back.
He shared the paper with my parents, proud that he had "out-witted" the professor and I wondered how she felt. I wondered if she felt like she had failed when in actuality she had instead without her knowledge or consent engaged in one of my brother's intellectual competitions. -He has been this way his entire life. He challenges ideas that others present as facts and is intelligent enough to argue his way out of almost anything. In a way I think his questioning is a healthy critical thinking strategy and I admire the way he takes nothing at face value, however, I can see how this would be extremely frustrating and disheartening for an invested teacher who believes strongly in her content and students.
Upon further discussion, my brother indirectly confided another thing Janet discussed in her article. Without directly admitting to feeling and rejecting guilt as result of male based oppression and dominance over women, my brother did remark that he was sick of being blamed for what other guys had done, saying "I never did any of this, so why the hell do I have to listen to and engage in a semester long man-hating course?" I offered the cliche answer of history being taught so that we can remember and grow from the past -he wasn't buying it. I think my brother was rebelling from not only the constraints of the class but also against what he misconstrued as a personal attack. He was one of only two boys in a class of about 20.
You see, I had a similar experience with my brother involving a women's studies course he was taking. I accidentally came across his final paper for the class and decided to read his thoughts on the oppression of women in third-world countries and I was appalled. In a way similar to Steve's, my brother powerfully argued that the oppression described in the class's books and lectures was not really happening. This was a few years back, so it is difficult for me to recall what his basis for the arguments was, but he is an excellent students and I remember the paper being extremely well written and thorough.
I was so upset that I woke him up to talk about his work. Like Steve, he said that he didn't really believe that these women were not be oppressed and abused, however, he was angry at the professor for providing only one option for the paper. He described her as a "man-hater" that would have to give him an A because he did his research and supported his argument well. And, he did get an A on the paper and in the class, but his teacher expressed her disappointment and concern when he met her to get the paper back.
He shared the paper with my parents, proud that he had "out-witted" the professor and I wondered how she felt. I wondered if she felt like she had failed when in actuality she had instead without her knowledge or consent engaged in one of my brother's intellectual competitions. -He has been this way his entire life. He challenges ideas that others present as facts and is intelligent enough to argue his way out of almost anything. In a way I think his questioning is a healthy critical thinking strategy and I admire the way he takes nothing at face value, however, I can see how this would be extremely frustrating and disheartening for an invested teacher who believes strongly in her content and students.
Upon further discussion, my brother indirectly confided another thing Janet discussed in her article. Without directly admitting to feeling and rejecting guilt as result of male based oppression and dominance over women, my brother did remark that he was sick of being blamed for what other guys had done, saying "I never did any of this, so why the hell do I have to listen to and engage in a semester long man-hating course?" I offered the cliche answer of history being taught so that we can remember and grow from the past -he wasn't buying it. I think my brother was rebelling from not only the constraints of the class but also against what he misconstrued as a personal attack. He was one of only two boys in a class of about 20.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)