Reading and Writing

I am writing in my first period Freshman English class. I am a teacher so it about time that I write something about the curriculum I am doing. In ninth grade we are reading "To Kill a Mockingbird", a book that I have taught maybe six or eight times. Many of my students find this book difficult to read, and indeed the vocabulary, ideas and humor are subtle and sophisticated. There is something called the CLOZE test that I am using to assess the reading ability of my students. Take a passage from the book, create a blank for every five words and see if students can fill in the missing words. The creation of this test is brilliant, as a good reader will skip words automatically and still come up with a good understanding of the text. Many of my students, just as every year are struggling with this book, so I wanted to sort out who is having the most difficulty. I have done the same thing with my sophomore. It is ironic that sophomore are reading an young adult book, Ender's game and the Freshmen are reading the adult book.

I struggled with reading as a child and it wasn't till I dated a reading specialist in my early thirties that I found that I had a certifiable reading disability. She tested my tracking of words on the page and said, "No wonder you had difficulty with reading." Nevertheless by the time I was a sophomore in high school I pushed myself along with all the difficulties I had. Yet today I still have difficulty finishing a novel and prefer books on tape. Although I read profusely non fiction- loving especially the New York Times, news and science journals, novels are still a struggle for me.

As I wrote here, I noticed that most of the students were done. I got up from my chair here and said, "I could write all day." One of my students says, "Yea, let's write the whole period." I said, "Seriously?" She said, "Yea, we can write stories in pairs." All the students seemed enthusiastic for this idea. So what are my students doing now? They are constructing stories in pairs. They are asking for some help in coming up with ideas. But mostly they are working cooperatively together creating stories. I asked for at least two drafts of what they are writing. What more could I ask for than a class that loves to write!

Sunday, September 27, 2009

I like to sleep in on the weekend. Sometimes I wake up at 6:00 AM and fall back to sleep. Even though I often go to bed very late- 2 or 3 AM, I am usually fully awake by 8:00 AM. Then I laze in bed listening to NPR's Weekend Edition. It was the same this Sunday, except I had bedded down early, maybe half past midnight and was greeted by Donna telling me that Kelly was about to fix the electrical system in the trailer. Kelly has her own solar panel installation business and previously worked with the ecology in Medocino County.

Donna and I arrived at Railroad Square in Santa Rosa at about 11 A.M. Railroad Square- at the turn of the century a thriving center of commerce, and for the last twenty years- a semi deserted train yard encircled by fledgling businesses. The Handcar Regatta is a cross between Dickensonian costume, the and a San Francisco Leather Bar. The central event- the handcar race pits homemade fanciful bicycle driven handcars of all sizes against each other in a competative race. Artists, musicians, dancers, performers that cross Terry Gillam and Federico Fellini in style. One of our neighbors exhibits his grisley scuptures of dolls, animal skins, bones and metal junk combined as circus sideshow. Regatta Artist Gene McClelland

The Hubbub Club marched around the Faire in the 100 degree heat pausing at every merciful piece of shade. The crowd this year was triple last years and each time the band played, an enthusiastic response. I followed the group on their march, including a jaunt across a small precarious suspension bridge. We ran into numerous friends, including Laura with her naked Mexican ladies with small breast. I observed a group of young girls painting a very beautiful plywood sign maybe 20 feet long with flying objects and individuals in a picturesque turn of the century technique. I observed on particularly well painted female face and inquired about it. One of the girls pointed out the person she called the leaded. It was Tandra. We spoke for a while about painting and realisim, about the studio she has in Santa Rosa, about the project itself.

The band finished their last toons in back of Aromaroasters and I offered to get Donna an iced coffee and pick myself up a pound of Italian roast beans. She was grateful. I asked one of the members about a Django style guitar player they know. I found out that his name was Ben, but that was all I found out. We walked back to the car and headed for the Celtic Faire.

I guess one could say that we had sticker shock when we arrived at the Celtic Festival in Sebastopol- $30 at the door. Two women were trying to make a deal to get in more cheaply since it was already 2:30 PM but the ticket takers had no authority to deal. Bacca and Beyond played an energetic set much like last year. Their combination of African song and rhythms with the Celtic music gives set the audience clapping and dancing. Alister Fraser's and his partner Natalie Hass really play as a single voice. Alister has flawless Scottish technique and Natalie's spare rhythms are something I could add in my own guitar playing- very powerful. Next Molly's Revenge from Santa Cruz played an energetic set. Moira Smiley has a gorgeous voice and did not sing enough in my opinion. Some of their pieces resembled Lunasa and maybe sometimes a little to much. But the band has really become stronger and tighter since I have see them last.

Dervish led the finali. Kathy Jordon is hard on the boys in the band, keeps a great patter going as she introduces each song. A

Wild weekend

I figure that I will have to write this blog in a series of installments.

Friday after school I came home to welcome my older son, Truckee, moving in. He had already made one trip in his car, rented a truck, gone back down to the city with Joey and arrived with a truck load of stuff. It has been a difficult year for him, I think, but in some ways rewarding. He lost his job, or better to say - his non-profit organization, Film Arts, folded over a year ago. He completed one screen play with a friend, John. He took a course in Flash and other such web media and was by his reports voted most likely to succeed. Yet in this down economy could find no work. Just two weeks ago he called us, excitedly to say that he had an interview, then a second interview. When they did not call him back after the second interview, my judgment was that he was too good for them anyway.

I came home exhausted from work on Friday. When Truckee asked for help to move, I was thinking that "I am not going help." But I could not resist there was so much to do. He has a lot of things. Donna was planning on keeping many things in Joey's old room but we moved out the bed and a rug and installed our old heavy bed with a giant mattress in the corner. All the while we are dealing with our problem cat who loves to pee and poop in unexpected places.

I ended up helping him, carrying the matress in, the bed frame, the chest of drawers, numerous boxes- a truckload. Kathy arrived just as we were moving things in. Kathy comes up for the Celtic festival every year and ordinarily we have time to chat and play a little music. Also my friend, Roger holds music parties on both the Satuday and Sunday of the Celtic Festival. I begged off on Friday night because I was tired.

Donna traditionally works on Saturday. Rumors of H1N1 were flying at Juvenile Hall over the sickness of one boy. I cannot give the results (sworn to secrecy) I took Saturday to catch up on my school work. I work slow and with distraction on a Saturday. Nevertheless I got to the point where I could come in on Monday and be reasonably ready. I was holding Sunday aside to go out with Donna.

Saturday night Donna and I went to a venue at Green Valley Farm- the closest thing to a real commune that I know of. Our friend Riggy lives there with a few dozen "back to the landers". I have played a contra in the old barn and this evening- a celebration of experimental music and dance. Freida is an amazing improviser, small lithe body and smooth original movement. She had a partner that Donna called handsome. Jesse had friends from college provide the music- handmade metal instrument, fashoned from recycled parts and run through some midi synthezier. Also there were several experimental films- the first was Frieda planting paper flowers in the snow- I liked it. The second by Freida was less appealing to me- three freinds frollicking in nature- but Donna liked it. By the end of the performance I was starting to nod off so again decided not to join the late night jam session at Roger's. I heard it was a good one with Molly's Revenge showing up late to push the session to 4:30. Donna's friend from Lark, Kelly came to stay with us. We stayed up an extra hour and chatted. Kelly squeezed into the trailer where Truckee had packed much of his gear.

I am in Period 5 now. It is my full class. One person is absent today. I have a visitor who is interested in becoming a teacher. He is observing my class. Truely for a class of 33 or 34 this is a good class. I am thankful that he has not come into my sixth period. I better get around and stamp the books before they get too restless.

I will leave the rest of this blog to tomorrow- most eventful day: Sunday.

The Union thing

During my first period yesterday I started a blog about this union thing that I am wading through at the moment. I wrote a full blog, decided that it was an indecipherable vent and erased it. So I won't bore you with the details. Through each small break of the day I communicated with someone else on this issue. At 8:30 PM last night I got a called from Bill, one of our negotiators. He is heavy handed and abrasive and I heard his story. I feel that I met him one for one over the phone. The discussion had an intensity that I have had in a conversation since my arguments with my father over politics. When I got off the phone, Donna had heard it and wondered if I was bummed out by the call. I said to her. "Actually, I'm invigorated." I have to give it to Bill. He has made me rethink this situation. But we have an emergency meeting on Tuesday and thankfully Helen, our local consultant will be there.

Balkin - Greek Festival

A yearly festival happens on the property of a Greek Catholic Church every year- the Glendi or Balkin Festival. The center of the celebration is music with a cast of five of the best Balkin Musicians from around the United States. Various kinds of Balkin Folk dancing takes place, but a central feature for me is the variety of Mediterranean foods featured.

A funny aside: I stood in line for my lamb sandwich and garlic at the Glendi. Just in back of me in line was a man with a shirt exactly like mine. We discussed the shirt. "I also have a red one at home." I said. He says, "I have that one and also a blue one." Hence this is the only photo of the Balkin Festival that I have this year.

Many familiar friends meet together- Tabby from Zora, Donna's Balkin vocal group, came with a Doctor friend, Jessica this year. I saw Laurie from camp and Marimbas, Jolie from Zora, Sue Willard a great dance teacher and many others. The monks give a tour of the church every year. This year an fresco artist monk talked about the art of fresco and the continuing work of frescoing the church.

Figs

Figs
"The proper way to eat a fig, in society,
Is to split it in four, holding it by the stump,
And open it, so that it is a glittering, rosy, moist, honied, heavy-petalled four-petalled flower."
D. H. Lawrence

Donna has a friend, Karen, that she has known since her days at U.C. Santa Cruz. Sometime in the past Karen's dad married a lovely German woman and they lived not too far from us on a beautiful piece of property not far from us in Occidental. We visited them several times and they had a daughter together, probably 25 years younger than Karen- maybe twelve years old the last time I saw her. Karen's step mother loved gardening and I remember she was nursing several very small fig trees and gave us two. Just a year after our visit she died of cancer. And also one of the fig trees died. But the other one flourished in its little pot and eventually I planted it on the side of the house- espaliered. Three years ago it gave its first figs, maybe two or three. Last year we had maybe a dozen or more. This year probably 30 or 40 big beautiful figs. I check the tree every day. My greedy side relishes in the fact that neither Joey nor Donna like these brown jewels.

I will always associate this tree with this lovely woman. It brings to mind the mother of one of my students whose mother died in a car accident just one week ago. A drunk driver killed her and left her daughter in critical condition. He came back into class yesterday. I saw him walk in with his Dad back into the building. His dad's face show how distraught he was. He was in the class for the first ten minutes, then he got a permit to leave but left his journal open. The words I saw at the top of his journal were "My Mom". It is heart breaking.

Also as I walk to and home from school each day, our neighbors have about 7 fig trees planted. The brown ones are still not ripe at this time but green ones are slowly ripening. I count the days. Nevertheless the blackbirds provide competition. Often blackbirds divebomb what might seem a beautiful fig from below, leaving an open ant ridden middle. So it is me against the blackbirds.

Donna found a tree full of figs behind an empty house on Main Street. She says that she is not fond of the brown figs but loves the green ones. Last night after dark she asked me to accompany her on a fig gathering mission. We called ourselves, the fig thieves. We wore dark clothes, armed with a flashlight and empty fig basket. We walked to the house. To our surprise there was a small house in the back with the lights on and the front door open. I moved my flash light around the tree. "Fig alarms" - wind chimes covered the tree. Donna chickened out early.
I found myself pointing my flashlight up into the branches. Hard little figs peered out from the leaves and as I turned I hit an alarm. "clang, clang, clang, clang." I guess it's time for me to go too.

Crying Time Again

I woke up at 5:45 AM this morning thinking about food and refreshments for the General CTA meeting. Then I thought about my El Molino mailing list and how I still had to send out reminders of the meeting and update the list. I got up showered and switched on my laptop only to find it had been turned off and would take another ten minutes to boot up. So I had breakfast. From 5:30 AM to 7 AM I updated the mailing list, tried unsuccessfully to attach the agenda to the El Molino group mailing, tried to email myself a plethora of documents- finally moving on to gmail after- yahoo never really could do the trick.

I worked on school work yesterday, Sunday from about 10 AM to 5 PM- with perhaps a half an break. When I got home I laid down with my last Tuesday and Thursday New York Times which I hadn't even seen. (6PM to 8PM) In between dozing I read and partially read any number of articles. I put another hour in after dinner- collecting old "To Kill A Mockingbird" curriculum and updating it- maybe 9 PM to 10 PM.

Progress Reports are due on Tuesday. Sunday I graded the journals for Period 1 and graded all of the World History tests and managed to finish the grades for both Periods one and three. That still leaves Periods 4, 5 and 6 for today. My aid is helping me now with Period 4. We are starting new novels today in all of my classes and I am scrabbling for curriculum, especially with the sophomores with a book that I have never taught and a class that I haven't taught in over five years.

Monday: Today- a full schedule of classes and finish marking journals and do grades. Email all those who need to be emailed. It appears that there are no meetings scheduled for today.

Tuesday after school at 2:3o PM I have an SST (student study team) meeting. I have to email Raul and ask him if I can go first so I can get out to drive to the General Union Meeting, which I am in charge of, at 3:30 PM. I will give the introduction and say the important things that I need to say, except at this point I am not sure what they are.

I knew that this year would be difficult. But it pissed me off a bit when I met Brenda last week and she said something like, "Oh, you are just down to one computer class." "I am down to zero computer classes, thanks to you." I didn't say it, but I felt it. She is the person who dropped this computer program here. And what bothers me is that she was telling herself that she was able to save one computer class, when that wasn't the reality. I know that the budget has had a severe impact on budgeting for schools. I know that technical classes are being dropped at all the schools. But at least have the sensitivity to realize that they are gone, that a good program has been dropped.

I am feeling a little sorry for myself in this year. Four English classes- full - and for me new curriculum at the Sophomore level. Maybe I am fortunate to have just one difficult class- but they are really difficult- it feels like all of the behavior problems are in this one sixth period. I would be much happier if I were teaching history. It is the class this year that I am really enjoying because I am challenging them with ideas instead of facts to memorize.

Lost in Cyberspace

I wrote a blog on Friday. You are missing a vivid description of my first Rep Council meeting as president of the association. Bill Olzman provided some fireworks. I made a few mistakes but over we survived the meeting. My writing over Periods 1, 3, and 5 was not saved on Firefox. Firefox crashed and when I came back to the blog it was empty. You may request that I write about this event. Unless I receive a deluge of requests. My subjective observations will be lost, only to have the minutes of the meeting.

Perhaps the bad news is that I found that blog.

San Francisco Mime Troop

Friday night I went to the San Francisco Mime Troop presentation "Too Big to Fail" here at Analy. As usual the Mime Troop presented some biting satire about the flaws of our system. They picked on Capitalism this time in the form of African Morality Stories. As most Mime troop audiences, like minded liberals basking in the common points of view. The composition of the audiance- average age 60- yes aging baby-boomers. There were a handful of youth, but it appears this kind of self-indulgent liberal humor is left for the over the hill crowd or at least the top of the hill crowd- middle class at that.

Meeting Called to Order

I'm a little rusty on Robert's Rules of Order. Our first executive board meeting with yours truly as presidents hobbled a little as someone prompted me twice to say, "Do I hear a second for that motion?" By the end of the meeting I had that part pretty well mastered. My intention was to shorten the length of the meeting. But forces in universe worked to deter me from my sworn purpose- to shorten the length of the meeting.

In this corner weighing in at- let's leave that part out- former lawyer, abrasive personality and I am sure just a pussy cat inside- is Bill. In that corner the ever zany and affable Shelly and... I shouldn't go on like this. Mild manner Casey brought up the issue of "caps" on class sizes. I will not bore you with all of the details, but only a few of them. It seems that a teacher at El Mo wanted to take three more students than our contract stated that she should have. Essentially she was asking for permission to violate the contract. In actuality there are many ways of phrasing it. The discussion pitted the board member trying to protect the integrity of the contract with those on the other side wishing to make an exception for a teacher who was trying to serve more students.

It wasn't so much the disagreement about the issue itself but the passion with witch it was argued. Bill can argue abrasively. He demeans the other side by his attitude and off handed comment. He has a booming authoritative voice. I made a point about class caps superseding, class size overflow remuneration. He ridiculed the point. He said to Susan, "I have been teaching here for twenty years. I don't know if you have been here longer." The barrage of comments makes one weary to listen. I remember my reaction when he insulted me. "Well, there's a shot to the bough." I wasn't insulted, only mildly amused because I know him. Shelly's appeal was mostly on human terms.

I felt that I had to keep a balance between airing viewpoints and keeping the meeting moving. When Shelley said that she wanted to pass a motion, she also said that there was no wording for the motion. Casey made wording on the spot and we voted - seven in behalf of the motion, two against and one abstention.

Donna commented to me today. "You may disagree with me, but I think that things are on a downer." She said that it might be her general malaise but Truckee's phone call last night definitely precipitated something. A week ago he was very excited about a job interview with a well known advertising firm in San Francisco. He followed that call with a call the next day saying that he had a second interview. The second interview did not go so well. It seemed everyone liked him enough but he lacked some experience with Flash Action Scripting. That interview was Thursday and he should have heard by Monday. By Tuesday I said to Donna that he should call to see had gotten the job. Donna said, "No, he was called for a second interview, so they will call him back." I said, "not necessarily." I was right. They did not call him back and he called them. He felt no antipathy, but excused their rudeness. I still want to write the bastards and tell them, "However many awards your advertisements have received, you flunked the test of common decency. You lost my respect in not replying to someone who put all he could, gave up his time, set his hopes and future upon your rude whims. " I will not tell them directly but get a list of employees and link them to my blog. Also, when I find out the name of the firm, I will publish it here, so you, good readers, can know about some of those responsible for a loss of just a little bit more civility in our society.

Truckee comes home today. He will drop off a small percentage of what he owns in our basement. Donna seemed surprised by his sudden arrival. We have been having this "discussion" about the responsibilities of an adult who returns home to his family. I suppose that I am from the old school. I am believer in a low wage job over collecting unemployment. I believe that anyone who related or not, over the age of 17 years should be working or at least be a full time student- preferably both. I believe that a boarder, related or not, should pay room and board. I thought that $300 per month in this case would be cheap. Then Donna started saying how she didn't want to give up the extra room, how she has more clothes than me, how Anna's stuff is in there. I thought that our new guest- my son, should at least have the courtesy of a room of his own. She let me know that it was impossible. Some arguments I consistently lose. Now his room and board are down to $200 per month.

David Broder, a syndicated reporter for the New York Times had a great article in the paper yesterday about a great change in attitude among Americans since World World II. A simple term for the quality is humility. He states that after the United States defeated Germany in World War II there was no gloating. Neither the troops nor the leaders bragged about the war victory. That people were only grateful that the war was over. Despite his conservative leanings in this opinion I concur completey.

Ten Pounds Later

I look at this photograph taken on the Charles Bridge almost two months later, that gorgeous bridge guarded by sooted black saints. I stood on the scale this morning and weighed in at 187 pounds. That is exactly ten pounds more than what I weighed in at on my first day back from Europe. In this photo the man in the green shirt looks almost waif-like. I remember the day well- my last full day in Prague. I had walked across that bridge a dozen times and this was my last. I watched the boaters from the middle of the bridge on this glorious day in a glorious city. Then two lovely women walked up to me and asked about things to see in Prague and what could they expect on the other side of the bridge. They were from somewhere in South American but lived in the United States. I recited an enthusiastic overview of the city and recommended a visit to the castle- in my eyes the jewel in the crown. They asked if I would take a photo of them on the bridge and so I did. And I boldly asked if I could take their photo and so I did. Then they took my photo.

I continued to meander on the bridge after they had walked on. Then I headed toward the park below the castle. Walking down the main avenue, I decided to go inside a convenience store for something to drink. Who did I see?- those lovely girls. We chated just briefly and went our own ways again. I would have loved to accompany them, but self-conscious about my age, did not even ask. Later I sat in the park overlooking the river and the city and saw them pass again. Ah, youth, I thought.

My exercise routine in Russia and Europe entailed walking four to six hours per day. I expecially remember the days in Russia when my money was running low and I purchased a piece of fruit, some nuts and crackers to keep me going. I remember refraining from eating just because I was not sure that I would have any money coming in the near future. I remember being hungry. I remember being so grateful when someone offered me a cookie at the hostile in Rastov Valikey- the city where my credit card saga began. Now back to walking only a half hour per day and eating my fill, my weight has quickly climbed.

This is my country

I heard a piece on the radio today that suggested minorities were outraged by the disrespect paid to Barak Obama. The town hall meetings organized by the right are acrimonious, the accusations of creating a socialist country unfounded, questioning of all things a politicization of a speech to school children and the "You lie" invective from a South Carolina House member. Many are feeling that this president is being treated with increasing disrespect. I am also feeling that.

After last winter's victory I was extatic. I was happy with how Obama was handling the economy and it seemed that by summertime the country was rolling along. I left the country for two months and I could feel that the honeymoon was over. Even my wife snarled a little when she talked about the health plan. The radical right has had enough time to organize rude demonstrations and town meetings in the name of free speech. Some of this approach I know is pushed by money interests in our country, especially insurance companies when it comes to health care. But I look back at a time when Michael Moore's movie was making a hit in the theater and I begin to wonder where all the support for universal health care has gone.

I am feeling yet another step removed from this country. I have never felt very "patriotic". In elementary school prayers were more important than the salute to the flag. My dad, a democrat switched to a Republican when George McGovern called for an end to the war and Richard Nixon called for peace with honor. In the end after all the arguments my dad's words, "You were right." were such an unchacteristic vindication. In the early seventies my 3 month journey to Europe made me feel that they over there actually had a better way of living that ours over here.

Then eight years of the absolutely most corrupt inept government I can imagine. It has left me soured on the American system of democracy. It may go back to Socrates' criticism of democracy- the theory that many people follow the crowd like sheep. When I hear an appeal to patriotism, I run the other way. When I hear people critisize Obama because he is making the country socialist, I only wish that this was true. For me Obama is too conservative. I suppose there are some redeeming characteristics to flag wavers, but I am finding it difficult to see those positives these days. They add nothing of any intellegence to the discussions that I have heard.

So I find myself wishing that I live somewhere else. I wish that I lived in a country that could communicate as an equal in the world. I wish that I lived in a country that could give health care to all of its people. I wish that I lived in a country that funded education adequitly. I wish that I lived in a country without insurance companies. I wish that I lived in a country with the lowest military budget in the world instead of the highest. I wish that I lived in a country where people are fluent in atleast two languages.

Where can I go?

Celebrate 60

I made a special trip to Santa Rosa on Saturday to pick up a gift for Les. Les is one of a duo (Kathy and Les) who have been our friends since we moved to Sebastopol about twelve years ago. Les fabricates all kinds of items with his 3 dimensional lathe. He works for a group called the Academy in Sonoma County. They help create museum exhibits around the world. He has the ability to take any three dimensional design from a CAD drawing and create that item in real life. He really has a knack for creating things with this amazing machine.

I went to the free trade store in Santa Rosa because it contains many items from around the world that I find interesting. They are all hand made items from jewelry to wire sculptures to purses and kitchen utensiles. I chose a motorcycle for him made of a couple of Heiniken beer cans, very clever. I had thought about a gift for him for a long time and never felt that I found the perfect thing. Another guest brought him a fourty pound slice of curley redwood, a truely great gift for Les. He can take something like this and fashon it into wooden bowls, boxes, statues or whatever shape he wants to create.

I definitely had mixed feeling about this party. When I turned 60, I told Donna that I absolutely did not want a party that celebrated my sixtieth birthday. Early on in the evening Les oblidgingly sat in a wheelchair while someone brought in a Depends trash can that they had found. And what better place to have a sixtieth birthday party than at the Senior Center.

There was a great mix of people from Les and Kathy's life. Les's relatives, cousins, grown children, Kathy's kids and their friends, friends from Les's work and friends from Kathy's work. All converged for this celebration. Kathy had scattered shiney little "60" confetti. The band that she hired was a trio with nice harmonies, a good mix of songs and first class instrumentalists. We took lots of photos - with both my camera and Kathy's camera. I reaquainted myself with many people I'd had met years ago. Les was good natured the whole evening and took all in stride.

Freshman

There was no bell this morning, so all of my students come in late. They are a little more chatty than usual. Maddy says, "I can't write." and shows me a bandaged right hand. I say, "Use your left hand." I hear someone say, "That's mean." Brent is having a conversation with Alexys two seats away. I whisper to him, "You not only disturb Alexys but you disturb the whole class." Hannah, "Mr. Lynch, can I use the pencil sharpener?" "No, there's extra pencils here if you need them. " Then Alexys gets up and takes a pencil from my little box. As students write in their journal, a cell phone goes off. Somebody says, "O000000000uuu." I ignor it and the class goes on writing. Brent and his partner are fast writers. Already they have stopped writting. Alexys hands Hannah her journal to read, then Hannah passes hers to Alexys. They smile at each other. It's time to stamp their journals.

Period 5
Class begins with announcement. A group of Seniors joke as they read the announcements. Then our principal comes on the loudspeaker to suggest a moment of silence for the victims of nine eleven- today's anniversary. I mistakenly say, "OK, it's tutorial time." A class full of puzzled faces looks at me. "I mean journal." This is a fun and noisy English class. They take on each assignment with some enthusiasm which is nice. At the same time they get riled up quickly, overall a very fun group- very different from Period 5.

It is ten minutes before five. I have been doing grades since 2 PM and have not gotten half of them done yet. Wish me luck and happy weekend.

Sophomores!

Period 4: Journal topic: What would happen if you could become invisible whenever you wanted to? What are some of the things you could do that you cannot do now?

Class started 5 minutes ago. "No sustained silent reading today because of the rally." I am shushing the class. Mark comes in late and I suddenly decide that he cannot continue to sit in the back and constantly talk with his friends. Lily in the front says, "I'll trade." I say, "Sure." Then I say, "Lily, you don't have any friends back there, do you?" Lily says, "I don't have any friends." Mark is now in the front. We'll see how that goes.

James is saying, "I can't find my journal." That means if it is truly not in the period 4 bin, he must look in 3 other bins with 30 journals in each one. Jackson comes in with a latte. I say, "no, no. I frown on bringing those things in." He says, "Sorry." "Where do the Sophomore go for rally?", someone asks. I don't know the answer to that. Then when the class is finally quiet and writing in their journals, the loudspeaker comes on with the daily announcements. Finally after that, it is quiet again. Wait- a little giggle. Someone is whispering to someone else in the class. Truely, this is my good sophmore class. All seem settled now, but in one moment I must jump up and stamp everybody's journal.

Period 6:
Jamie is telling me how she missed all of her vocabulary quizes and now she isn't ready for today's test. I asked her why she wasn't at tutorial. "My sister takes me to school." I say, "Well, tell your sister to take you to school on Tuesday and Thursday, the same time as Monday's and Wednesday. Brendan walks out without asking. Then comes back in. Max burbs and only Ben laughs. Many at this point have stopped writing, but the room is finally quiet and I am reluctant to break the silence. TJ gets up to wash his hands with the new santizer installed to curb the spread of H1-N1. The room is getting a little restless. Hanna (Haaana) is chatting with Jenna. Class must begin. Bryan is eating French fries in my "no eating" room.

After journal writing I mention that there were five people who came to tutorial and six that missed tutorial for getting less than 13 out of 20 on their vocabulary quizes. "Do you know who was suppose to be here?" I say. Tim says, "Last year you said that we had to come if it was twelve or fewer." Eva sheepishly raises her hand and says, "I forgot." I read the names of those who were suppose to be here, mistakenly calling Nathan's name. I hear somebody whisper, "It's because he Black." (very funny) Someone else says "I didn't know we were having a vocabulary quiz." Brenden says, "I was missing all last week." I reply, "And you didn't come to any tutorial?" "Every Thursday- without fail- a vocabulary quiz. " It's clear that more than a few are not prepared.

Then I am hand out a grammar lesson to give students practice in revising sentences with strong verbs. There is some mumbling, but I hear from out of the mouth of Brendan "...bald spot" and I know that he is talking about me. I confront him on it and he pleads innocence. I say, "Go outside." Then when I have a moment, I go outside and ask him what he was doing. He denies that he did anything wrong. I said, "What were you talking about?" He says, "It was private." I say, "OK, you can stay out here and think about it." I go back in and then bring him my behavior guidelines that label behaviour as "childish", "normal teenage behaviour" and "adult". This group of papers notes clearly that teenages sometimes challenge authority and sometimes make mistakes. But normal teenage behaviour is also to admit mistakes and say "I am sorry." when appropriate.

I come out to Brendan a little later. I say, "Did you understand what you read?" He says, "Yea, I understand it." "So...", I say. Eventually he says, "Do you mean that I should say, 'I'm sorry?'" I reply, "Only if you have done something disrespectful. Were you being disrespectful?" "Yes", he says. "I'm sorry." and puts his head down in complete sincerity. YES!!! small victories.

When I come back there is a nest in the corner- Paul, Hana, Jordyn, Jenna, Brett and Raffi. They take constant watching. They play, socialize and sneak food, now that this class has lost its eating priveledges. I hear a "Thawp!" and I look below the whiteboard and someone has shot a second large white spitball at the board. (At this point everyone is quietly listening to Obama's speech on education.) I see the direction but I do not know who it came from. I pick up the two wet wads stuck to the aluminum panel below the board. "YUK! still wet." I throw them in the trash. I get up and go over to Brett. "You know who shot those wads of paper." I say to him. "I didn't shoot any paper." He says. "I only said that you know who shot them." Then I walk back to my desk. I watch the corner carefully but noone dares try it again.

Hana says the speech was inspiring. And I believe her. And it seems that the class is a little more ready to move on and learn.

Romance with Italy

This summer in mid August Donna received a call from an old friend, Lomberto. She knew him in San Francisco shortly before we met about 23 years ago. Donna had some reservations about meeting up with him because at the time she had a short romance with his friend. Lomberto showed up with his wife, and his son Rafael. We arranged a nice dinner in our backyard, then off to a party with Donna's band, the Hubbub Club. They returned a couple of weeks later after a whilwind tour of Califonia and stayed a couple of nights. They were wonderful guest and we had several nice evening just sitting and talking in the backyard. He talked of his life in Italy. He is a lawyer and works at least twelve hours a day. Jokingly I asked him if he works for the "good guys" or the "bad guys". He litgates labor law for large corporations in Italy. Lomberto invited us to stay at his apartment at San Benedito, Marche. It is actually an extra apartment that he owns and does not use. He also said that we can have full use of an extra car that he does not use. He wanted to show us Italy, in a way that tourists do not ordinarily see it. It was a generous offer.

Several weeks later we received a glowing letter from Lomberto about how much he enjoyed his trip to California, especially his visit with us. In a phase that Donna still quotes with a laugh he wrote about our "natural happiness" and way of living that we have found in Sonoma County. One major reason for this "natural happiness" was that Donna and I were both on vacation at the time. So now I find myself working like Lomberto works, ten to twelve hours a day and five or six hours on the weekend. I have certainly idealized life in Italy as he has idealized life in Sonoma County.

Five years ago I went to Italy on a cooking tour, more like an eating and drinking tour. We primarily visited kitchens, met with chefs who gave demonstrations and ate their food in the north near Lago Maggiore and in the center of Italy on the Umbrian/ Tuscan boarder. We road in a van from place to place. It made me idealize Italy and the Italian life-style much the way that Lomberto idealizes our mythical lifestyle.

Then, three years ago I went to Italy again. This time I went to Firenze for two weeks to take a classical realism painting class. We painted for about seven hours every day in hot little studio. The heat was oppressive. Evening could be pleasant and we sometimes went out in a group, but more often I was alone in the evening. Then I remember my little room overlooking a little resturant, a charming location. But the heat of the night prevented me from sleeping well. The only way that I could sleep was to remove all clothing and lay against the wall the coolest part of the room. Any stitch of clothing would emphasize the extreme heat in the night. It was at those moments I began to reevaluate my love affair with Italy. I could not live in such a climate in the summer. In contrast, this summer my visits to Helsinki and St. Petersburg I encountered what I now consider perfect summer weather- hovering between 45 and 65 degree Farenheit.

Chorro Music

For about eight years now Donna and I have been going to a music camp called Lark in the Morning in Mendocino pretty much every summer. I will write more about the camp at some other time. This past summer we both took an early morning Brazilian Chorro class. Chorro is an original form of Brazilian music created around the turn of the twentieth century. It is traditionally played with three instruments: a guitar, a panderra (a Brazilian tamborine) and the flute or mandolin. The class filled with about 30 fluid music readers. The sound was gorgeous. I was never even close to being able to read the music at speed, but Donna had it pretty well under control.

When we came home at the end of the summer, equipped with large piles of music, we began to play together. For about a month now Donna and I have been playing the tunes together- me on guitar and she on mandolin. We have been married for 22 years and very rarely played music together. We would learn the occasional song but rarely play on a regular basis just for fun. Her music orientation for so many years was Balkin singing and mine, Irish music. I have switched to mainly jazz and swing. She has begun to play more flute and percussion. This has been a happy meeting of musical styles. It is challenging for both of us as well as deeply satisfying.

Running the Race

I've made it to Saturday. This past week blended all of my responsibilities so starting Wednesday not only were my days full but my evenings too. I attended the SCEC meeting (California Teachers Association Local) on Wednesday night. Our board member gave me a nice recognition for a letter that I had written to the membership and it always feels good being recognized. But the next day I received a nasty email from one of our members. Even though it was from a member known for his nastiness. Not only was it nasty, it was complete rude and off the wall. I merely responded that "I do not give much credence to anything that includes a rude and unfounded personal attack." Nevertheless it hurts to get such a thing. Overall I have received such great support from the members. And many realize the great amount of work that the job entails and are willing to pitch in.

Thursday was "Back to School" night. I had been working on memorizing all 160 names of my students but I learned the sophomores first, since some of them are already testing their limits. As usual I had an early parent who wanted to get all of the information about how her son was doing. I took a quick look into my grade book and I saw no major problems. Generally this early in the year it is hard to tell about kids. Of course certain ones stick out as having potential difficulty, but that is not the purpose of Back to School Night. Period 1 (BTS night) parents flowed into the room. I improvised a spiel. "Look at my website...Yes, grades will be posted but not for a week or so.... I will try to contact you on a regular basis by email..." And so on. I try to enlist their help to read the papers that their children are writing. "Don't be afraid to read you child's paper and give them help. This is a team approach. We are all educating the children. You can put a few marks on the paper so I know that you have been helping... But please do not write the paper for them." Things like that.

One parent asked me, "Do you teach diagramming of sentences?" "I could diagram a sentence in my sleep because I was taught by nuns who demanded us to know diagramming from about third grade. But no, I do not teach diagramming because..."I won't go into it now. She answers that "I am an editor and I use diagramming every day in my work." I answer diplomatically, "Well, I promise to use certain elements of diagramming to teach sentence structure and I will talk to the other English teachers about it." But also as a teacher Back to School night is very valuable to us. One parent of a high functioning autistic kid gave me an enormous amount of information that will assist me in working with him in the classroom. Even though the class periods with parents were only 12 minutes long, it felt as if I had put in another mini-day.

Friday night was my "duty". We must supervise two or three school events per year. I chose this football game because it was early in the year. I have almost no interest in any kind of sport- maybe horse racing if I am gambling. This was the football game between Analy and Terra Linda. I got there at 6 PM and given a choice for my post. I took a lonely corner of the field. I was able to sit and read my book about Moscow for about an hour when the JV game finished. The principal came over and said, "I'll trade you places." "You take that area over there by the fence where they sneak in." As the Varsity game began, sure enough one boy and two girls came in though that hole in the fence. I said, "I'm sorry, but it's my job to make sure that nobody comes though that fence." They were so polite. "Well, we can pay for the game right here," they said. I said "no" and had to send them back out. From 7 PM to 9 PM I stood watching the game as the mercury plummeted.

Half time was at 9 and I wondered over to chat with another teacher and used her iphone to call home. (When I arrived home from school, I had just enough time to put together a delicious dinner. ) Well, I assumed it was delicious. I had to leave it in the oven and report for "duty". Indeed it was delicious and there were leftovers. I was relieved. As this teacher and I chatted a parent came to us and said, "I heard that there is some heavy drinking over there in the bleachers." I went over to the center of the storm. Students held paper and plastic cups but it was difficult to tell if anyone was drinking. Some Juniors were talking about something that they didn't want me to hear. Did I mention the name "Zack"? I only heard it. From the top tier of the bleachers they were dropping cups and chips on people who were exiting the game. They were rude but I could not ascertain whether they had been drinking.

I made my way down to my spot and saw the vice principal walking further down past the end zone. I chatted with him and he said some kids were throwing things from the top and I told him of my experience. As he was walking away I saw a kid climbing the high fence and he had just gotten in. He was angry. I called for the VP, then I yelled to the kid. "I'm taking care of business." He says. Fortunately the VP heard me and came back and called for the kid to come down. At first he wouldn't and I could picture a big fight about to happen. Then he thought better of it and came down to talk, but he still wanted "to take care of business." He says, "Those guys up there were throwing chips on my truck..." I took his photo and he said something very rude to me. The VP said, "I've just called the police and you better get out of here before they arrive." He left.

In the intervening moments a player had gotten badly injured on the field. The game was delayed for about a half hour. When I asked someone said "he blew out his knee." That is all I know. By 10 PM the game had started again but I had been on my feet for three hours and my knees were starting to bother me. At 10:10 PM a merciful principal came up and said, "You can go home now." Sweet words.

My Other Job

The teachers in the West Sonoma County unanimously elected me the president of the West Sonoma County Teachers Association. In a year (my last year) when demands upon my time exceed all years in my memory, I have chosen to take on a time consuming and difficult job. As I am the president, I am the mouthpiece for the party line of the California Teacher's Association. I attend all school board meetings and report to the teacher. I seem to attend meeting after meeting. The Redwood Council of the CTA meets. The SCEC Local met last night. Our executive board meets at least once a mouth. I meet with the superintendent for infomal talks. I meet with the assistant superintendent to work out kinks in the class size numbers. I go to the President's Conference. I go to the CTA Leadership Conference. I go to the CTA Good Teaching Conference. I take questions, feedback, complaints directly from members. I report to the newspapers, the school board, our members and the administration the official stance of the CTA.

Frankly I am not too bad at most of these things. What I do have problems with is organization. I must make sure that all of the members are notified of position changes, upcoming conferences, our take on the superintendent's last pronounce. The act of sending out emails to all the right people, the act of passing on the right piece of paper to the right person, the act of notifying the right person of a particular meeting or conference, keeping my "to do list" current and active - these things are difficult for me.

Last night the SCEC group met. That is a meeting of officers from all of the districts in our county. We discussed the abymal California budget and budget budget process. We also discussed Obama's or Arne Duncan's "Race to the Top". It is apparently a way to maintain all of the negative aspects of "No Child Left Behind". RTT will use one time test scores to evaluate not only student achievement but teachers. CTA believes in evaluting teachers but in a way that can take many variables into consideration. In fact my experience with CTA is that its main focus is on good teaching. Ordinarily sixty to seventy percent of the monthly magazine is devoted to the subject of good teaching.

Well I am in my sixth period English class now. My students are making sounds like they are finished writing in their journals, so I guess that I should finish writing in mine.

Period 6

Class has been in session for two full weeks now. My sixth period sophmores are starting to push the limits. In the beginning I told them that they could eat as long as there was no food or garbage left on the floor. After class yesterday I found two chip wrappers and a plastic bottle on the floor. Now there will be a new food policy in sixth period only: no food or drink except water. Also there was a constant barrage of students asking to go to the bathroom. I am starting a new bathroom policy- only with sixth period at this point. Susan swears by this method. She said that the first couple of years the students moaned and groaned about it but now they seemed fine with it. For the semester they have six bathroom passes. I will give them two bonus points at the semester for every bathroom pass that they don't use and twenty bonus points if they use none.

Also I am struggling to make the sophomore class interesting. I gave the students an assignment yesterday which I thought would be straightforward. I showed them a little cartoon that was an adaption of a Ray Bradbury story, The Pedestrian. Then I showed them a student presentation I had found on Youtube. I thought that it was very funny. Four action figures (from some online game)carrying hugh weapons were discussing with literary terms the story The Pedestrian. I asked my students to write a page using ten of the eighteen literary terms that we have studied so far. They had great difficulty understanding the assignment- in fourth period. So together we took the movie Monsters Inc. and tried to come up with at least the beginning of a piece of writing. I tweeked it slightly for sixth period but it still was a struggle. Four out of 33 papers in Period 4 did a good job, with one of them excellent.

This New Year

It is the year of the budget cuts, not only for education, but in health care programs, social service programs, the penal system and anything that the state of California funds. And so my school work load has increased. I suppose for many years I had it easy as a teacher. For all my years at Analy I taught at least two computer skills classes. Students love these classes. I create the lesson around a project that helps them learn the particular piece of software. They complete the project and present it to the class. This year they dropped all of the computer skills classes.

Last year I also taught three Freshman English classes. The classes by state mandate had class size reduction, no more than 20 students per class. This year I teach two freshman classes with about 30 students per class. To give an outsider an idea of how that small change increases the workload, consider the time that it takes to grade on essay. I usually can grade a student essay in 15 to 20 minutes. So to grade one class of 20 essays would take about 5 hours, to grade a class of 30 takes about seven and a half hours. I have two freshmen classes of thirty. So every time I assign an essay, my work load increases by 5 hours. But I don't just have two Freshmen classes. I also have two sophomore classes, that I didn't have last year. One class has 35 and the other has 30. Grading 65 essays takes about 16 hours. This is not to even mention the preparation time for class. I have not taught sophomore English for more than five years, so it is as if I am starting over.

Another factor related to preparation is the number of classes a teacher teaches. This year the powers that be added to my schedule a world history class of 32 students. In teacher lingo this is called "three preps", meaning that it is easier to put together lesson plans teaching the same thing, rather than many different things.

Another thing I have difficulty with is "taming the paper tiger". Last year I taught about 60 students with computers and all assignments were handed in digitally. I had 60 English students who hand in paper. There classes with 20 students each, I can handle the paper; 160 students with paper, I am not sure. I give a vocabulary test every week- that makes 120 vocabulary tests to grade, record and give back. Believe me. I know that every English teacher goes through this. OK. I will stop complaining. I frankly have a pretty nice group of Freshmen. And my Sophomores are a little jumpy but generally all nice kids- most of whom want to learn.