Thursday, February 17, 2011
This Calling
A fellow teacher has recently drawn a lot of attention for her blog, a blog in which she criticized the high school students she has taught. Now it has become something of a media sensation and a possible First Amendment test case.
It looks as if the resolution to this drama will turn on a technicality. It was protected speech. It was done with the use of a school computer. It was technically anonymous. It wasn't anonymous: a photograph and enough other identifiers were there.
I am saddened that what is really a pretty ugly event will turn on a technicality like those I mentioned rather than be determined by sizing up the damage done in this instance.
At my first school a decade ago, my one administrator insisted on using the term "children" when referring to our students. We were at a middle school and I was teaching 9th graders. At times, calling these freshmen "children" seemed preposterous. But consistently calling them "children" helps one treat them like children which they essentially are despite their outward behaviors. Now that I teach older students, it helps for me to think of them as children still. Perhaps as I get older I see how youthful their behavior is, how relatively shallow their life experience still is, and how they take un-adult views on adult matters.
Thinking of them as children helps me put in context what they do, and helps me navigate when they run out of bounds. Thinking of them as children reminds me of how when I was 16 and 17 and 18 I did some pretty childish things for which I'm glad I didn't have to pay adult consequences.
So, my fellow teacher erred on her blogs by failing to treat these children as sensitively as children deserve treatment. Note that sensitive doesn't mean soft or passive. Sensitive means firm at many times. Sensitive includes the words "no" and sensitive can implement consequences for wrongdoing.
There's a fundamental guide toward our actions as teachers that this blogger violated. From my earliest days in this profession my supervisors, teachers, and veteran colleagues have pushed me to confine my comments to observable behavior. It's my job to reward or sanction behavior. It's my job to draw conclusions as to how best reach a student by studying behavior. If something is wrong, I need to keep my comments focused on behavior good and bad. It's not my job to evaluate or fix character. One might argue that it's my job (and that of other teachers) to instill character as we teach, and perhaps those individuals are right. Accomplishing that is anything but a perfect science, and it's something we best do by modeling and by speaking to behavior.
We run foul of our calling as teachers when we overlook the behaviors of youth and fail to see the children on our rosters. We can address the behaviors and help shape the children. But if we attack the children, we won't do anything to help the behaviors.
It looks as if the resolution to this drama will turn on a technicality. It was protected speech. It was done with the use of a school computer. It was technically anonymous. It wasn't anonymous: a photograph and enough other identifiers were there.
I am saddened that what is really a pretty ugly event will turn on a technicality like those I mentioned rather than be determined by sizing up the damage done in this instance.
At my first school a decade ago, my one administrator insisted on using the term "children" when referring to our students. We were at a middle school and I was teaching 9th graders. At times, calling these freshmen "children" seemed preposterous. But consistently calling them "children" helps one treat them like children which they essentially are despite their outward behaviors. Now that I teach older students, it helps for me to think of them as children still. Perhaps as I get older I see how youthful their behavior is, how relatively shallow their life experience still is, and how they take un-adult views on adult matters.
Thinking of them as children helps me put in context what they do, and helps me navigate when they run out of bounds. Thinking of them as children reminds me of how when I was 16 and 17 and 18 I did some pretty childish things for which I'm glad I didn't have to pay adult consequences.
So, my fellow teacher erred on her blogs by failing to treat these children as sensitively as children deserve treatment. Note that sensitive doesn't mean soft or passive. Sensitive means firm at many times. Sensitive includes the words "no" and sensitive can implement consequences for wrongdoing.
There's a fundamental guide toward our actions as teachers that this blogger violated. From my earliest days in this profession my supervisors, teachers, and veteran colleagues have pushed me to confine my comments to observable behavior. It's my job to reward or sanction behavior. It's my job to draw conclusions as to how best reach a student by studying behavior. If something is wrong, I need to keep my comments focused on behavior good and bad. It's not my job to evaluate or fix character. One might argue that it's my job (and that of other teachers) to instill character as we teach, and perhaps those individuals are right. Accomplishing that is anything but a perfect science, and it's something we best do by modeling and by speaking to behavior.
We run foul of our calling as teachers when we overlook the behaviors of youth and fail to see the children on our rosters. We can address the behaviors and help shape the children. But if we attack the children, we won't do anything to help the behaviors.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
An Appreciation for Clark Howard
Mother nature has interrupted my last four weeks of school with a snow day each week. Today was the fourth day that I have been home alone this winter. Each day the kids' school was open, the roads safe enough for my wife to head into work, leaving me with a lot of time to study up on my economics. Ironically, I've discovered the law of diminishing returns at work, for on this fourth day at home I truly ran out of stuff to study for economics. I know I'll turn around at some point in March cursing my failure to master some obscure curve like this.
These days have given me the chance to listen to my favorite economics guru, Clark Howard. For years I've taken to heart his pragmatic, frugal approach to personal finance. He has set me wise to so many ways to save money and protect myself over the years. But what I appreciate most about him is his humble approach to his work. Apparently on Wednesdays he dedicates 20 minutes or so of air time toward addressing listeners' complaints. Listeners who disagree with his opinion can post on the "Clark Stinks" part of his website, and one of his producers reads a few of the criticisms, giving Clark a chance to respond. In the two sessions of this I've heard he's admitted to being wrong twice. How refreshing!
Unfortunately, his radio show airs while I'm at work. The local station broadcasts Dave Ramsey, a much better-known financial guru. Dave's show has become my favorite show that frustrates me. I can't stop listening to him, but I much prefer Clark's spin on personal finance. Dave overtly applies his Christian faith to his advice, which is his right. Yet I tend to look at spiritual matters as largely separate from finance. Dave is also absolutist about the evils of debt, whereas Clark is very precise about good debt and bad debt. Certainly in Clark's universe the latter is much more common than the former.
And I think Dave's obsession with all debt being bad is misleading. I'm thankful that my wife and I went into debt to buy the home that is, well, home. We have found a wonderful neighborhood, great friends, and a lifestyle that is right for us. And we've been enjoying it now for nearly a decade. We would have missed out on great opportunities for the four of us (make that five, the cat loves this house) had we simply saved until we had amassed a fortune to pay cash.
It's fairly obvious that Clark doesn't pull in the ratings that Dave does, and that saddens me. It's easy to find entertaining and informed absolutists like Dave. But I wish more of America had the patience to listen to a pragmatic self-avowed nerd like Clark, and not just on matters of dollars and cents.
These days have given me the chance to listen to my favorite economics guru, Clark Howard. For years I've taken to heart his pragmatic, frugal approach to personal finance. He has set me wise to so many ways to save money and protect myself over the years. But what I appreciate most about him is his humble approach to his work. Apparently on Wednesdays he dedicates 20 minutes or so of air time toward addressing listeners' complaints. Listeners who disagree with his opinion can post on the "Clark Stinks" part of his website, and one of his producers reads a few of the criticisms, giving Clark a chance to respond. In the two sessions of this I've heard he's admitted to being wrong twice. How refreshing!
Unfortunately, his radio show airs while I'm at work. The local station broadcasts Dave Ramsey, a much better-known financial guru. Dave's show has become my favorite show that frustrates me. I can't stop listening to him, but I much prefer Clark's spin on personal finance. Dave overtly applies his Christian faith to his advice, which is his right. Yet I tend to look at spiritual matters as largely separate from finance. Dave is also absolutist about the evils of debt, whereas Clark is very precise about good debt and bad debt. Certainly in Clark's universe the latter is much more common than the former.
And I think Dave's obsession with all debt being bad is misleading. I'm thankful that my wife and I went into debt to buy the home that is, well, home. We have found a wonderful neighborhood, great friends, and a lifestyle that is right for us. And we've been enjoying it now for nearly a decade. We would have missed out on great opportunities for the four of us (make that five, the cat loves this house) had we simply saved until we had amassed a fortune to pay cash.
It's fairly obvious that Clark doesn't pull in the ratings that Dave does, and that saddens me. It's easy to find entertaining and informed absolutists like Dave. But I wish more of America had the patience to listen to a pragmatic self-avowed nerd like Clark, and not just on matters of dollars and cents.
I think someone made a mistake . . .
Shocked! I'm simply shocked that Yuengling wouldn't be the beer of choice for Pennsylvania on this cartogram.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
In the midst of such pessimism about government debt . . .
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Historical Fiction
Though I still enjoyed seeing it, I've recently come across a pair of columns offering some criticism of The King's Speech. The more meaningful of these critiques came a couple of issues ago in The Economist. A more scathing one appeared this morning in The Inquirer. The former is an interesting commentary on how the film's story touches on some quirks of English collective memory.
The latter is more of a knock on the film's historical accuracy, making the point that it overshadows some ugly details from the time period. My response: no kidding.
Further, I'm glad the film did what it did.
In my experience, the best historical films often squeeze and manipulate details from the past. If films don't, one ends up with bad films. If I'm paying to go to the theater, I'm conceding some bad history for good storytelling.
The best historical film I know of is Glory. The broad outline of that story is accurate, as was the case with The King's Speech. But the details of the story, namely the preposterous coincidence of the four main black characters (Trip, Jupiter, Rawlins, and Thomas) joining the same unit, are pretty off the mark. But I often try to teach my students how the film is deliberately trying to pull together the four dominant stereotypes of the black man in the Civil War era to teach us something. It's a contrivance attempting to turn stereotypes on their heads. And, in my opinion, it's a brilliant teaching device. Glory is more a tale of the saga of race in war than it is a biopic of the 54th Massachusetts. It is for those reasons that The King's Speech resonates with me: it's more about overcoming awesome obstacles in times of crisis than it is a good biopic.
To a certain extent, we must concede that film has powerful limits in telling historical tales. I walked away from The King's Speech mulling over my favorite speeches made by Prime Minister Churchill in the war. To me, those speeches are far more meaningful. But film probably couldn't convey the awesome power of those speeches in the way grainy recordings can, or even just the words on the page. I can't help but think of Gettysburg's finale: the portrayal of Pickett's Charge. The film tried its best to make that the awesome and awful (for some) moment that it was but it simply fell short. Even with digital technologies now available, I don't think one can capture the full weight of tens of thousands marching across fields into cannon and rifle fire. Ironically, the film's depiction of the smaller action on day 2 at Little Round Top is more compelling. If one reads The Killer Angels, the gravity of those two scenes are reversed.
By the way, note the contrivance in the film and the novel that Chamberlain's regiment just happens to be at the center of the Union line on the third day.
I'm going on a bit too long, now aren't I.
Capturing an event accurately isn't the job of film. That's the domain of authors trained in the arts of history and journalism. That's the job of documentaries. Filmmakers have the crucial task of making a story come alive that will let an era resonate with us for days after leaving the film we were fortunate enough to see. It is on that matter that The King's Speech fares so well.
The latter is more of a knock on the film's historical accuracy, making the point that it overshadows some ugly details from the time period. My response: no kidding.
Further, I'm glad the film did what it did.
In my experience, the best historical films often squeeze and manipulate details from the past. If films don't, one ends up with bad films. If I'm paying to go to the theater, I'm conceding some bad history for good storytelling.
The best historical film I know of is Glory. The broad outline of that story is accurate, as was the case with The King's Speech. But the details of the story, namely the preposterous coincidence of the four main black characters (Trip, Jupiter, Rawlins, and Thomas) joining the same unit, are pretty off the mark. But I often try to teach my students how the film is deliberately trying to pull together the four dominant stereotypes of the black man in the Civil War era to teach us something. It's a contrivance attempting to turn stereotypes on their heads. And, in my opinion, it's a brilliant teaching device. Glory is more a tale of the saga of race in war than it is a biopic of the 54th Massachusetts. It is for those reasons that The King's Speech resonates with me: it's more about overcoming awesome obstacles in times of crisis than it is a good biopic.
To a certain extent, we must concede that film has powerful limits in telling historical tales. I walked away from The King's Speech mulling over my favorite speeches made by Prime Minister Churchill in the war. To me, those speeches are far more meaningful. But film probably couldn't convey the awesome power of those speeches in the way grainy recordings can, or even just the words on the page. I can't help but think of Gettysburg's finale: the portrayal of Pickett's Charge. The film tried its best to make that the awesome and awful (for some) moment that it was but it simply fell short. Even with digital technologies now available, I don't think one can capture the full weight of tens of thousands marching across fields into cannon and rifle fire. Ironically, the film's depiction of the smaller action on day 2 at Little Round Top is more compelling. If one reads The Killer Angels, the gravity of those two scenes are reversed.
By the way, note the contrivance in the film and the novel that Chamberlain's regiment just happens to be at the center of the Union line on the third day.
I'm going on a bit too long, now aren't I.
Capturing an event accurately isn't the job of film. That's the domain of authors trained in the arts of history and journalism. That's the job of documentaries. Filmmakers have the crucial task of making a story come alive that will let an era resonate with us for days after leaving the film we were fortunate enough to see. It is on that matter that The King's Speech fares so well.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Janaury 24, 1865
Though buried deep on today's This Day in History Page the event that took place 146 years ago today in the Civil War is quite telling. Apparently the Confederate government reauthorized the exchange of prisoners on this day in that year. I never knew that they resumed the exchange. As the site acknowledges, however, this decision so late in the war was rather useless (and probably driven mostly by the swelling numbers of Federal prisoners the Confederacy could not accommodate).
I don't know how widely known is the story black troops played in the Civil War. Black men in uniform made up 10% of the Union Army, which might not sound significant, but was. In a war of attrition where numbers mattered black men provided an extra 200,000 troops to the Union forces, hastening the demise of Confederate forces. Further, those 200,000 served at a rate far greater, proportionally speaking, than the percentage of blacks living in the Union would suggest. Many of these men were, in fact, runaway slaves, contraband.
Let me get to the point.
Opposition to slavery in the Civil War was not necessarily a moral viewpoint. Those who opposed it often did so on economic, social, or pragmatic grounds. Many of those who opposed slavery held viewpoints that today we consider quite racist. Even the Great Emancipator himself is on the record saying some deplorable things about black Americans.
But the whole prisoner exchange issue ironically shows a humanity toward blacks from the Federal government and military establishment that, in my opinion, was ahead of its time. Upon the Union's announcement allowing black men to enlist in their ranks, the Confederate Congress announced that it would not exchange black men captured in combat. Instead, blacks found in the employ of Federal troops would be returned to slavery; those captured and found in uniform would be summarily executed. In response, the Federal government declared that it would suspend the system of exchanging prisoners that the two sides to that point had carried out. Certainly there was a pragmatic consideration here: Confederate resources were thinner than were Federal, so the greater hardship would be for them to care for the prisoners they took. Yet, still, the Union's suspension of the prisoner exchange was a tremendous statement of equality: If you don't treat all our soldiers as soldiers, we'll discontinue this courtesy based on equality of soldiers.
Sometimes history turns on acts that seem innocuous or marginal at the time they took place. To me, the story of how race complicated prisoner exchanges in the Civil War demonstrates a foreshadowing of a day when our country would better understand the principle that all men are entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
I don't know how widely known is the story black troops played in the Civil War. Black men in uniform made up 10% of the Union Army, which might not sound significant, but was. In a war of attrition where numbers mattered black men provided an extra 200,000 troops to the Union forces, hastening the demise of Confederate forces. Further, those 200,000 served at a rate far greater, proportionally speaking, than the percentage of blacks living in the Union would suggest. Many of these men were, in fact, runaway slaves, contraband.
Let me get to the point.
Opposition to slavery in the Civil War was not necessarily a moral viewpoint. Those who opposed it often did so on economic, social, or pragmatic grounds. Many of those who opposed slavery held viewpoints that today we consider quite racist. Even the Great Emancipator himself is on the record saying some deplorable things about black Americans.
But the whole prisoner exchange issue ironically shows a humanity toward blacks from the Federal government and military establishment that, in my opinion, was ahead of its time. Upon the Union's announcement allowing black men to enlist in their ranks, the Confederate Congress announced that it would not exchange black men captured in combat. Instead, blacks found in the employ of Federal troops would be returned to slavery; those captured and found in uniform would be summarily executed. In response, the Federal government declared that it would suspend the system of exchanging prisoners that the two sides to that point had carried out. Certainly there was a pragmatic consideration here: Confederate resources were thinner than were Federal, so the greater hardship would be for them to care for the prisoners they took. Yet, still, the Union's suspension of the prisoner exchange was a tremendous statement of equality: If you don't treat all our soldiers as soldiers, we'll discontinue this courtesy based on equality of soldiers.
Sometimes history turns on acts that seem innocuous or marginal at the time they took place. To me, the story of how race complicated prisoner exchanges in the Civil War demonstrates a foreshadowing of a day when our country would better understand the principle that all men are entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
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