I Can Teach a Man to Fish, but I Need Help Buying Bait

Guest editorial on Ace Weekly's blog. If you are a teacher or would like to help teachers, you need to check out DonorsChoose.org (link in the editorial).

Typo Positive

“A man of genius makes no mistakes; his errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.” -- James Joyce

During my now five-day weekend, I've been curled up with many student essay drafts, spilling out the remnants of four pens (two black, one blue, one red) onto their pages. As a grader, I have two things I try to keep in mind:

1) Students tend to wait until the last minute to make changes, so I don't want to write "awk" or "rephrase" or something that will leave them dumbfounded at 2:00AM the night before the final paper is due. So I tend to write quite a bit of explanation on the pages. (In a few instances, I've actually written more words than the student's effort contained.) My hope is to provide a guiding, meaningful voice for those students racing against sleepiness and the morning alarm.

2) I need to keep a notepad or laptop next to me so that I can capture (a) positive or negative examples (transitions, use of evidence, passive voice) for later student instruction and (b) unintentionally funny mistakes for my own enjoyment.

I suspect many English teachers keep such a list, and I'll share a few of my favorites (these are students from long ago, and they are all in their early thirties now). What we called "error analysis" in my old life in software development should illuminate these examples:

The "I've never written that word before" Error

If you are not well-read, it is easy to have a word in your vocabulary that you know only as a sound associated with a concept. Having never seen it in print, you must improvise.

* I had never before been asked to serve as a paw bearer.

The rain lashed down on the mourners, bowed and whimpering at the sight of the huge paw being borne into the small, country church.

* These students from different religions can help their fellow pears understand all cultures and feel more of a community with all people.

Though they try to hide it with their parochialistic bluster, Pears--all to often--feel so alone.

* Mr. Webber has been found guilty of many Mister Meaner crimes.

No commentary necessary.

The Spell Check Error

For those of us who remember the days before it was ubiquitous, spell check is a godsend. But like any great power, it requires great responsibility and caution in its use.

* The purpose of the KIRAS state assessments is to ovulate students and schools.

This from a college student. Thank God those tests were eliminated before I started teaching high school.

* In a multicultural cirrocumuli, students are given the opportunity to study such greets as Maya Angelo, W.E.B. Dubious, and William Falconer

This is really a treasure.

Falconer has always been my favorite author, but I'm not sure why a high altitude, billowy cloud of multiculturalism would be required to read the utterly WASPish literary giant. Nor is it clear how a cultural diversity-endorsing mass of water vapor would promote Mrs. Angelo -- with whom I'm not familiar.

Less confusing is said cloud's desire to advocate the work of Mr. Dubious, who found time amidst his busy career as a super villain to be a momentous figure in the civil rights movement in the early 20th century. He was truly one of the greets.

I'm headed back to the piles of papers, so there are certainly more to come.

Rediscovering Snow Days

When I decided to leave my career in software development to teach English, I knew that my thorough planning for the switch could never prepare me for everything I would encounter in my new vocation.

Some of these unexpected experiences have been arduous and challenging. Some have been exhilarating and profoundly gratifying. Some seem simply absurd.

In that last category, I place "rediscovering snow days."

Mind you, the beauty of re-encountering snow days in my mid-thirties doesn't derive from merely missing work; sloth has never been my sin of choice. When my cell phone shudders awake on the bedstand and Bill Meck's missive shimmers with the good news, I immediately jump out of bed. I inevitably spend the morning grading or making lesson plans, relishing the completion of these tasks in serenity, outside the pandemonium of the school day.

In any case, we teachers work very long hours, but we get plenty of time off during the year.

No, the absurdity and beauty I've discovered in the snow day come from re-connecting with this experience I had presumed I'd left behind. Like a sort of meteorological prodigal son, I abandoned the delight of having the elements dictate my daily work, and now I have recaptured that sublime joy.

(OK, perhaps too far.)

Regardless, things that are great about Snow Days:

The Anticipation:
Standing transfixed in her closet, trying to determine what to wear, my wife used to ask me about the forecast, and I never had the slightest idea. I worked in a climate-controlled environment that never closed and therefore wholeheartedly ignored the weather.

Now, between December 1 and March 1, I can tell her the barometric pressure in inches of Mercury and hectoPascals. I scrutinize the subtle shifts in time stamps of Doppler radar like Jim Garrison pored over the frames of the Zapruder film. I could stand in for T.G. Shuck if the situation ever arose.

Not working and feeling great
When most people have an unplanned absence from work, either illness or bereavement is the cause. Both are physically and mentally taxing, and that fatigue is exacerbated by your knowledge of the work piling up while you are gone.

Not so for the snow day. The weather did something unusual, so you don't have to work. You may feel great. If the roads clear up, you may go out and see a movie. If you see your boss there, that's fine too. He or she is also feeling great.

Playing in the snow
My back yard spills down into a valley and is obscured from the neighbors, so I can frolic to my heart's content or my back gives out. And since my dog Scout (pictured) is so adept at making a canine version of snow angels, it's only right she should be afforded the opportunity.

Sure, it takes about 20 minutes to remove all the caked-on snow and get her dry, but what do I care? It's a snow day.

The life cycle of a high school neologism

On my Facebook status, I commented on the speed with which my students can create a new word, or conjure some new meaning for an existing word, and drive it headlong into cliche.

My favorite current example is the word "beast":

Beast (transitive verb):
1. To excel at; to perform exceptionally on

Examples:
1) "I totally beasted Montgomery County's point guard."
2) "Our color guard is going to straight up beast that band competition."
3) "Chill out, Mr. Williams; I am beasting this essay."

By the time I become aware of these coinages, they are already racing toward banality. But in my brief tenure as a teacher/sociological observer I've sketched out the following life cycle:

1. Day 1 - Word spawned - the actual germinal moment is shrouded in mystery. "Beast" may have come from the popularity of the phrase "He is a beast" amongst teenagers. Or someone may have just texted ChaCha with a request for a random word.
2. Day 2 (Before lunch) - One student uses it in discussion and gets odd looks and chuckles from classmates.
   
3. Day 2 (After lunch) - Two or three students per class use it ironically, casting sideways glances, bemused at the moronic nature of the coinage.
4. Day 3 - The coined term constitutes 60% of the words spoken by teenagers in the school.
   
5. Day 4 - Some teacher uses it in class: "Hey, you guys totally beasted that vocabulary quiz." Under desks, inside sleeves, thumbs dart across cell phone keypads. It all happens quickly now.
6. Day 5 - Students only use the word ironically, casting sideways glances, bemused at the lameness of that word.