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shalannaBwaa-ha-ha! The neighbors didn't know what they were getting into when they arranged for me to indoctrin--er, TUTOR their impressionable little daughter. Her mind is still not fully formed, and so I figure I can create an eeeevil clone of myself in NO time, albeit in a far better-looking and younger bod. Watch out, world!
You could use a couple of these ideas if you were going to teach a creative writing course somewhere, too. . . .
I've now had two sessions tutoring (if you can call it that yet) my neighbor's daughter, "Twyla," in math and literature. She was pulled out of eighth grade a couple of weeks ago because of impossible bullying situations, and now her dad has a curriculum all figured out. (More on his involvement later.) At first he thought they'd just stick with whatever the school had been teaching, which would've been straightforward enough, as the school district has provisions for homeschooled students to borrow some texts and materials (after all, their parents are paying taxes to the ISD.) However, when he saw how little they were teaching (in his opinion), he rolled up his sleeves and made a plan to have me "teach" her all the stuff HE thought should be known by now. This is going to be interesting.
He's gotten involved, which is grand. She brightens up when he pays attention to her. But yesterday they had a layoff over at Alcatel-Lucent where he works, and guess who got laid off? So now he'll have more time to teach her and less cash to flash. But he still wants me to do this. I told them let's not worry about money and what I should be costing or whatnot for a while, until we know this will work out. I don't want to have messed-up relationships with this neighbor if this doesn't go well, and I don't know how much I will or won't be helping her. She seems bright enough, but she's terribly quiet and really doesn't say much at all.
This could mean that I could turn her into a complete clone of me! On the other hand, the bullies didn't manage to turn her into one of them. So perhaps there is hope.
She does have nice handwriting and pretty good spelling/grammar skills already. In no time I'll have her writing a term paper comparing and contrasting the political ideas in _The Autobiography of Malcolm X_ (as told to Alex Haley) with those in _Atlas Shrugged_ by Ayn Rand. OR maybe not. We'd better see what her dad thinks is appropriate for her to read first.
Here are some of my thoughts about how to run a class.
My math prof when I was taking my teaching certificate in grad school came up with this one. As we (*student teachers*) entered the room, he already had the overhead projector (or a laptop that had the gizmos attached) going, and it was showing a slide with a math puzzle or problem. He wasn't normally at the front desk yet (usually off getting coffee, he said), but the stack of our ReadyWork notebooks/spirals was on the right front corner of his desk, as always. These were spirals or composition books that we'd brought on the first day--not three-ring notebooks. Each of us went up and got that notebook. We were to sit down with the notebook and work on the puzzle and/or invent similar puzzles or just noodle about on possible approaches to the solution or to making more puzzles for fifteen minutes. The idea was that no pages would ever be removed from this notebook . . . he said he'd know if you ripped out a spiral page, because there was ALWAYS a scrap stuck somewhere. If you wanted to change course, you were to draw a double line or a line of asterisks (or do some other doodle) and write "NO!" or "Change of tactic" or something so that he'd know you had given up on that line. He said he wanted to see and evaluate our problem-solving processes, as you couldn't teach problem-solving "if you ain't no problem solver yourself."
Now you might think this deal was just a cool way for him to get a 15-min break out of that 90-min class. Maybe it was, but I think it was cool. Typically, I would have an insight into the puzzle fairly soon and do an answer or two. Then I'd get inspired and start writing up new puzzles in the same vein or a different vein. I usually found that I could come up with a couple of new ideas every time, which surprised me.
Could we just have scribbled or doodled? Well, we could have. But that would've been silly. The instructor would look through our notebooks after class or during the intervening days and would make helpful notations. More about that later.
By the time Professor was back with his java, it was time for him to stop us and ask a couple of volunteers to give their solutions. Then he'd talk about the puzzle and the learning potential therein. He'd never actually give HIS solution, interestingly enough.
I saw how we could apply this to a writing course. As students entered, I could have a writing prompt up on the screen or chalkboard (I don't have one of those gizmos!) This could be either a freewriting prompt such as "I remember when my dad used to. . . ." or the first line of an essay or story that students could continue. I could give them fifteen minutes of freewriting or guided writing. Then I'd ask somebody to read aloud for one minute from their work. You could do this in any class you teach.
My instructor had us pass forward the notebooks as soon as the discussion ended. I think I'd do the same. You as the teacher could glance over them and even write comments, and you'd have time to do that because they don't get the books back until the next class. He used to write at least one comment or make one doodle per notebook so we'd know he'd been there, like Kilroy. (How many of you got THAT reference?) Wherever you had left off, you'd find that he had stamped his special mark so he'd know that you didn't rip out any pages and know where you left off. His was a pre-inked rubber stamp with an Elizabethan type of flourish made out of his initials. You could use anything. If you wanted to do that, I mean. You could even choose outstanding passages to quote aloud to the class--WITHOUT revealing who wrote them. The student who wrote it will be blushing, but you can't help that. You didn't tell who got singled out, and you gave her/him some egoboo for the day. Be sure it's really a great passage, though. Then just go on with your regular class activities.
What I'm doing with Twyla--at least for now, because I don't know how long this might or might not last--is asking her to be ready to freewrite on my topic or do a math puzzle when I first arrive. That way I can get set up with any materials I've brought along, as well as consult with her parent(s) about what we're working on, while she gets warmed up.
She seemed to be happy with the idea. At least for now.
Tip: If your students have trouble with freewriting because of that pesky internal editor, have them bring unlined paper. Then have them write SIDEWAYS (landscape as opposed to portrait orientation) across it so that the internal editor thinks we're in kindergarten and won't be invoked. You can even suggest they write in a color of ink they'd never use otherwise. Anything like that helps bring out the inner child to scribble the stories.
"Sing, O muse, of that crazy writer who didn't know any better than to question the Muse."
Meantime, for your viewing pleasure, something that we can all agree upon.
You could use a couple of these ideas if you were going to teach a creative writing course somewhere, too. . . .
I've now had two sessions tutoring (if you can call it that yet) my neighbor's daughter, "Twyla," in math and literature. She was pulled out of eighth grade a couple of weeks ago because of impossible bullying situations, and now her dad has a curriculum all figured out. (More on his involvement later.) At first he thought they'd just stick with whatever the school had been teaching, which would've been straightforward enough, as the school district has provisions for homeschooled students to borrow some texts and materials (after all, their parents are paying taxes to the ISD.) However, when he saw how little they were teaching (in his opinion), he rolled up his sleeves and made a plan to have me "teach" her all the stuff HE thought should be known by now. This is going to be interesting.
He's gotten involved, which is grand. She brightens up when he pays attention to her. But yesterday they had a layoff over at Alcatel-Lucent where he works, and guess who got laid off? So now he'll have more time to teach her and less cash to flash. But he still wants me to do this. I told them let's not worry about money and what I should be costing or whatnot for a while, until we know this will work out. I don't want to have messed-up relationships with this neighbor if this doesn't go well, and I don't know how much I will or won't be helping her. She seems bright enough, but she's terribly quiet and really doesn't say much at all.
This could mean that I could turn her into a complete clone of me! On the other hand, the bullies didn't manage to turn her into one of them. So perhaps there is hope.
She does have nice handwriting and pretty good spelling/grammar skills already. In no time I'll have her writing a term paper comparing and contrasting the political ideas in _The Autobiography of Malcolm X_ (as told to Alex Haley) with those in _Atlas Shrugged_ by Ayn Rand. OR maybe not. We'd better see what her dad thinks is appropriate for her to read first.
Here are some of my thoughts about how to run a class.
My math prof when I was taking my teaching certificate in grad school came up with this one. As we (*student teachers*) entered the room, he already had the overhead projector (or a laptop that had the gizmos attached) going, and it was showing a slide with a math puzzle or problem. He wasn't normally at the front desk yet (usually off getting coffee, he said), but the stack of our ReadyWork notebooks/spirals was on the right front corner of his desk, as always. These were spirals or composition books that we'd brought on the first day--not three-ring notebooks. Each of us went up and got that notebook. We were to sit down with the notebook and work on the puzzle and/or invent similar puzzles or just noodle about on possible approaches to the solution or to making more puzzles for fifteen minutes. The idea was that no pages would ever be removed from this notebook . . . he said he'd know if you ripped out a spiral page, because there was ALWAYS a scrap stuck somewhere. If you wanted to change course, you were to draw a double line or a line of asterisks (or do some other doodle) and write "NO!" or "Change of tactic" or something so that he'd know you had given up on that line. He said he wanted to see and evaluate our problem-solving processes, as you couldn't teach problem-solving "if you ain't no problem solver yourself."
Now you might think this deal was just a cool way for him to get a 15-min break out of that 90-min class. Maybe it was, but I think it was cool. Typically, I would have an insight into the puzzle fairly soon and do an answer or two. Then I'd get inspired and start writing up new puzzles in the same vein or a different vein. I usually found that I could come up with a couple of new ideas every time, which surprised me.
Could we just have scribbled or doodled? Well, we could have. But that would've been silly. The instructor would look through our notebooks after class or during the intervening days and would make helpful notations. More about that later.
By the time Professor was back with his java, it was time for him to stop us and ask a couple of volunteers to give their solutions. Then he'd talk about the puzzle and the learning potential therein. He'd never actually give HIS solution, interestingly enough.
I saw how we could apply this to a writing course. As students entered, I could have a writing prompt up on the screen or chalkboard (I don't have one of those gizmos!) This could be either a freewriting prompt such as "I remember when my dad used to. . . ." or the first line of an essay or story that students could continue. I could give them fifteen minutes of freewriting or guided writing. Then I'd ask somebody to read aloud for one minute from their work. You could do this in any class you teach.
My instructor had us pass forward the notebooks as soon as the discussion ended. I think I'd do the same. You as the teacher could glance over them and even write comments, and you'd have time to do that because they don't get the books back until the next class. He used to write at least one comment or make one doodle per notebook so we'd know he'd been there, like Kilroy. (How many of you got THAT reference?) Wherever you had left off, you'd find that he had stamped his special mark so he'd know that you didn't rip out any pages and know where you left off. His was a pre-inked rubber stamp with an Elizabethan type of flourish made out of his initials. You could use anything. If you wanted to do that, I mean. You could even choose outstanding passages to quote aloud to the class--WITHOUT revealing who wrote them. The student who wrote it will be blushing, but you can't help that. You didn't tell who got singled out, and you gave her/him some egoboo for the day. Be sure it's really a great passage, though. Then just go on with your regular class activities.
What I'm doing with Twyla--at least for now, because I don't know how long this might or might not last--is asking her to be ready to freewrite on my topic or do a math puzzle when I first arrive. That way I can get set up with any materials I've brought along, as well as consult with her parent(s) about what we're working on, while she gets warmed up.
She seemed to be happy with the idea. At least for now.
Tip: If your students have trouble with freewriting because of that pesky internal editor, have them bring unlined paper. Then have them write SIDEWAYS (landscape as opposed to portrait orientation) across it so that the internal editor thinks we're in kindergarten and won't be invoked. You can even suggest they write in a color of ink they'd never use otherwise. Anything like that helps bring out the inner child to scribble the stories.
"Sing, O muse, of that crazy writer who didn't know any better than to question the Muse."
Meantime, for your viewing pleasure, something that we can all agree upon.
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Date: 2008-03-08 04:42 am (UTC)COLOR RADIO is beginning to suck, seriously! I'm writing utter drivel, introducing an absurd backstory. I may go back to the original 1975 ending, the one from when the book, with my typical modesty, was called ODYSSEY. If you'll recall, in that version the protagonist (me with a different name) ended up with the slutty girl. Sort of a warmup for Kansas in 1994. I deserved no better. Nah, I have to make this ending good. And Chick Santell and his cousin have to go, along with several other superfluous characters. It isn't an opera; it doesn't need supernumeraries.
I know your theory, lose this one and get going on NEON PEOPLE, the memoir. Well, as soon as I have a 1st draft finished on CR, I will move on. I promise.
Gotta go price Airstreams now.