Creative Reflection: "Two Flowers"

The flower sits within the field and waits--

a passive mass--it waits to catch the sun

for nourishment is furnished by the fates

and where it lacks there’s nothing to be done.

A blockage keeps the flower from the light,

a tree that stretches high into the sky.

The flower gives itself up to its plight;

embittered, it prepares itself to die.

Another flower stretches toward the rays

and drinks the nourishment that they exude,

and from its mouth an endless song of praise,

its bending and its thanks renew its food.

The withered flower can provide for none.

The other serves its fruit to everyone.

Love and Marriage: Teaching Grammar as Writing

The question of whether or not to teach grammar constitutes a hot issue among English teachers in my district. We must cover all of the College and Career Ready Standards that apply to our students, and none of these standards explicitly mention any specific grammar rules; many have taken the omission as a release from this responsibility. This release feels welcomed, as students almost entirely dread grammar lessons and in fact many English teachers do not feel confident in their abilities to teach grammar. Those who do teach grammar lessons express exasperation for their colleagues, attributing their students’ writing deficiencies to those teachers who failed to aptly prepare them with diligent and regular grammar drills. Who is right? Should English teachers ignore grammar in their classrooms, or should they promote rote memorization of terms, definitions, and rules? 

This question represents the false dichotomy which polarizes instructional methods and in turn, hinders growth in student writing. We teachers must remember grammar’s function in order to parse out an effective approach to its instruction: to improve the potency of communication. If this is the case, then grammar surely must be represented in our classrooms. Rather than compartmentalizing grammar instruction, however, we should teach grammar within the context of student writing; this technique clearly illustrates the value of grammar rules for students in a personal and meaningful way.

This sounds highly impractical, doesn't it?  Messy? Impossible to plan for?  Many teachers prefer to run a tight ship, or at the very least, they prefer to know what they will be teaching before class begins.  The prospect of identifying and teaching to errors as they arise may sound intimidating.  Well, tough cookies. Think about what we are asking students to do, and you will understand intimidating. We ask students to write essays, when they have had relatively few experiences doing so. If this weren’t enough to turn students off, we parade grammar rules around them, shouting “Don’t do this! Don’t do that!” while rarely building a bridge between the infinite list of no-no’s and the actual sentences that they struggle to compose until after the grade has been assigned. Where is the motivation or the means to improve in this model?

Rather than simply pointing out errors in lieu of actual instruction, Mina P. Shaughnessy suggests that the teachers “try to explain why a certain word won’t work in a particular setting—to ponder over the student’s choice, demonstrating its semantic and syntactic limits or contrasting it with other words that do not create the same constraints” (76). This mode requires an active writing workshop, where students and teachers can engage in a free-flowing verbal dialog about a student’s past choices and about their options moving forward in the drafting process. This workshop model proves effective as it hyper-focuses grammar in the context of the student’s own writing, thereby characterizing it as a helpful tool for the student rather than as an arbitrary exercise.

I am determined to take off my boots and get in the mud with grammar instruction.  I know that operating the workshop of Shaughnessy’s vision will prove laborious and may sometimes feel too time consuming, but consider this: “Teaching grammar in isolation from writing—that is, teaching the grammar book instead of helping writers write—has been found again and again to have little if any positive effect on most students’ writing” (Weaver and Bush 14). If this is true, then the real waste of time is either removing grammar instruction altogether or presenting it to students in vacuum-packed parcels that seem completely separate from the issues they confront in their own writing.

What I must constantly bear in mind is that writing and grammar are inextricably bound, and therefore both must be taught, and must be taught simultaneously.  What teachers often mistake as a student who utterly lacks interest in improving their writing and their grasp on grammar is actually a student who has not been shown the crucial connection between the two. Once the teacher establishes this marriage, they can most effectively engender student growth.

Works Cited

Shaughnessy, Mina P. Errors and Expectations. New York: Oxford UP, 1977. (Excerpts)

Weaver, Constance, and Jonathan Bush. Grammar to Enrich and Enhance Writing. Portsmouth: Heinemann, 2008.

Catharsis and Validation at the KATE Conference

The last couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, particularly of eager anticipation and of bowel-liquefying anxiety.  Too much information?  Let’s see, where’s my thesaurus…How about of eager anticipation and of knee-knocking dread?  You get the idea.  As I prepared for my very first KATE Conference, I couldn’t wait to see the keynote speakers.  I was excited to hear famous storyteller Laura Packer, and I collected a stack of Jaqueline Woodson novels to bring for the signing.  But even more so, I couldn’t wait to spend two days among my people: English teachers.  I couldn’t wait to attend their breakout sessions and hear about their tried and true practices.  I couldn’t wait to grill them between sessions for more information.  I couldn’t wait for them to pump me up with inspiration and motivation.  So why the fear?

I too would be presenting at this conference.  That’s right; little old preservice teacher ME would be standing in front of these seasoned teachers, trying to tell THEM what I believe is important to classroom instruction.  As the conference approached, I felt more and more inadequate and became more and more intimidated by the prospect.  Unlike me, these weren’t just real teachers, but they were the cream of the crop.  These were not the teachers who roll their eyes all through inservices and go to the teacher lounges to complain about students and colleagues.  These were the teachers who voluntarily paid to attend a professional development conference.  These were teachers who truly love learning.  What in the world could I possibly teach them, though?  I felt like such a farce.

As I nervously prepared the room for my presentation, participants filed in.  Hands shaking, heart racing, I stumbled around the room giving out handouts and willing my breakfast to stay inside of me.  Before I knew it, the room was packed and I was out of handouts.  “Well, I wrote a catchy sounding title for my presentation, and that’s why they’ve come.  Let’s see how much I disappoint them” I thought to myself.  Just before I began, I took inventory.  I saw several of my classmates, and felt some relief.  I also saw a teacher that I’d recently met at Watermark, and she flashed a warm smile at me.  I felt more relief.  I took a deep breath and began.

I am happy to report that I not only survived my presentation, but also that the real teachers seemed interested in and receptive to my materials.  As the next two days unfolded, I was struck by what seemed to be their mantra when speaking to me and my classmates: “YOU ARE real teachers!”  There wasn’t anything patronizing or disingenuous in their tone, either.  They actually regarded us as professionals and they visibly enjoyed learning from us as much as they loved giving us advice.  In the end, I feel like this trait of humility may be a defining characteristic for effective teachers.  These people truly model learning as an exchange.  These people do not insist that they have all the answers.  These people know that being a teacher means being a student.

At the end of the second day, Laura Packer emceed a storytelling session in which several teachers regaled the crowd with their stories.  These stories overflowed with the bittersweet triumphs of teaching and of life in general.  My eyes welled up and a steady stream of tears marked my cheeks as these women bravely stood in front of us, vulnerable and exposed.  I cried for their losses.  I cried for their victories.  I cried for my own relief.  Most of all, however, I cried because I felt so overwhelmingly validated in my career choice.  Without reservation, I can now say it: I am a teacher.