I had very little time today between getting home from school, eating, and getting Trevor to his band concert on time.  On my drive home from work, I was quite irritable about the proposition and was wishing that I could get out of it.  After all, it was even making me miss choir practice (which helps lift my spirits every week).

I'm glad that God gives me what I need and not what I wish for as I really enjoyed this concert (as I do every year).  While I didn't like this year's policy of keeping parents waiting by making them drop off their junior high students, and I probably should have kept my mouth shut after hearing an older gentleman rant about the need to close our borders because of Ebola, the music was fantastic.  The band program at Northwest is absolutely amazing (the choir program is top-notch as well)!  These kids performed college level music in marching uniforms and still managed to move that part of my soul that only good music can touch.  

Music education is so important for children (adults too, for that matter).  It teaches them things that simply can't be taught in any other subject.  Some of these things are tangible, such as practicing to perfection and understanding music, while others are much deeper, like how to pull a person's emotions with the sound of great songs.

A colleague of mine from my days at Colon Jr./Sr. High School passed away this Sunday at the young age of 65.  When I first arrived at Colon, he was one of those quirky math teachers (and our school had a few of them ... I'm looking at you, Jenni and Munch) who seemed to genuinely like what he did ... even if the middle school students seemed to be driving him crazy.  

I did not know him well, but all of my memories of him are pleasant.  I also shared some of his concerns about how our government (federal, state, and local) were dealing with education, particularly in how teachers get treated.  While I can't come up with specifics, I know that he gave me helpful advice and was a pleasant lunch companion.

I was sad to see him leave the school, and am sadder still that he has passed away.  I pray that he has reached his heavenly reward and that his family's sorrow will be tempered by knowing that he made a real difference with the time that he had on this Earth.  

Were I to get complete control (and I mean complete control) of a school or school system, there are a few things that I would like to change.  Probably the most important of these things would be the structure of the school day itself.

For one, our schools start too early.  Despite a plethora of studies that show that middle and high school students benefit the most from late starts to the school day, we continue to force students to be to school before 8am (let alone the recommended 9am).  Even college age students do their best to avoid 8am classes.  Yet we have some students who, due to practice schedules, actually have to be at the school by 6:30am.  When you add in hours of homework, after school activities going throughout the evening, and television studios putting their most attractive (to high school age students) shows after 9pm,  it is no surprise that many students are yawning through their school day.

To make matters worse, we throw too many subjects to them through the school day.  A full load at the college is between 12-18 credits (with 18 pushing the limit).  That's the equivalent of three to six classes a semester that meet between one to four times a week.  Most high schools run a six-class schedule, with students having to juggle the maximum subjects of most college schedules while meeting for five hours a week for each subject.  Despite what many politicians claim, our students are actually in school too long.

We also need more selection for our students.  Right now they are packed into classes that supposedly teach the same standards at the same time even though we know that students learn differently and at different paces, and even though we know that not all of our students will need the exact same lesson at the same time.

Later starts and a varied class system with fewer on ground hours is a program that has made our colleges and universities some of the best in the world.  I know that we would still need to supervise our students through the school day (something that colleges don't need to worry as much about), but we could do so by allowing students to pick tutoring centers during the time that they are not in direct instruction classrooms.  These centers could range from study halls that provide a quite place to work, recess areas to give some of our students that much needed activity that they are often denied, "reruns" of courses so they get a double hit of the info, student-led group study sessions, or even one-on-one tutoring.

There are flaws with my proposed system, but I think that it's better than most schools are doing right now.  Granted, any system is going to do poorly under the current financial and legislative constraints that public schools are currently under.  Still, it's nice to dream.

It wasn't until my first child was born that I realized how deeply I could care for someone.  My love for my family is boundless.  Especially considering how vulnerable they are when they enter the world, my natural protectiveness towards my children is entirely understandable.  

What might be less understandable is that this protectiveness extends to my students as well.  Although not quite to the same degree as my feelings for my own children, my desire to help my students and keep them safe from the dangers of the world is still embedded deeply in the very fiber of my being.  I know that I can't protect all of them, but I hurt when they are hurting.

I know that part of this is also due to my "hero complex," the condition where I want to solve everyone's problems even though I don't have the qualifications to do so.  I want to be a hero for my students, to give them the chance to be the best possible versions of themselves.  When I hear stories of children who encounter terrible trials, painful events, and early deaths, I can feel the pain keenly as if something has punctured my heart.

This is why teachers at Newtown, Connecticut, stood between a crazed gunman and the children in their care.  Despite the politics, the bad press, insufficient compensation, and sometimes terrible working conditions, teachers still walk into their classrooms every day in the hopes of making their students' lives better.  You might think that I'm being overly dramatic, but I guarantee you that I am not.

Don't mess with my students.

As today is the anniversary of the attacks made on September 11, 2001, I wanted to share where I was during the attacks and the aftermath.

I was on my prep hour in my portable classroom at Colon Jr./Sr. High School when the planes struck the buildings.  A student of mine knocked on the door.  He told me that I needed to turn on the television because we were being invaded and New York was being bombed.  This particular student was not the most trustworthy of students, but this seemed to be a rather tall tale even for him.  I didn't believe he was serious, and I told him so, but I wasn't able to figure out what he thought he would gain by getting me to to turn on the television.

I calmly explained to the student that it wouldn't be possible for bombers to make it to the United States and that we certainly weren't being invaded.  (Classic example of an adult thinking that he knew more just because he was older.)  I told him to go back to his class, and I turned on the TV as he left.  I punched in the channel for CNN and was immediately mesmerized.  They had just switched back to a live shot because the first tower was collapsing.

I can't fully express what I felt.  I was horrified, as I believe most of us were.  I was also intrigued, like a gawker at a traffic accident, my eyes and mind wanted to see more due to my natural human curiosity.  The savage within me called for immediate war against whomever might have done this.

The bell rang and I forced myself to turn off the television.  An announcement came over the PA requesting that all teachers turn off their TVs and continue school as usual, that the office would keep us updated.  Of course, that made it so most rooms turned on the TVs right away and kept them running.  I wish I could say that I was one of them.  Instead I tried to keep my scheduled lesson plan running.

I regret that.  I feel that I deprived my students from seeing some of their own history that day.  Maybe I at least provided them with a shelter from the news that was otherwise bombarding them that day, but as a teacher of history I feel I did them (and myself) a disservice.  

Due to a large-scale power outage, my district already has its first "snow day."  It's only the second week of school.  While I, of course, enjoy having a surprise day off from work, I am concerned about what this might mean for the end of the school year.  Truthfully, I would prefer to go in to work today if it meant that I wouldn't need an extra day tacked on to the end of the school year (or the loss of a different planned day off).  My AP course, in particular, has a hard deadline for its test and thus benefits more from having school now rather than having school after the test.

A lot of people (meteorologists, farmer's almanacs, etc.) are saying that we are looking at one of the snowiest winters in my lifetime and that we can expect not just school closings, but entire area shutdowns.  While I do enjoy snow days, this only increases my concerns about having a school year that extends past its usefulness and well into June.  Despite there being almost no correlation between number of school days and how much students actually learn (see nearly any college or university course), and even evidence that suggests the practice of "making up" days does not benefit students, we are looking at doing just that.

Still, I plan on enjoying the day.  I am already able to catch up on my blog, and I plan on getting in some quality video game time.  This day off even gives me the opportunity to see my youngest off to his first day of preschool.  I won't be as happy as I'm adding time at the end of the school year, but I need to enjoy the present since worrying can't change the future.

Time to go shovel ... oh, wait ...

If this summer wasn't good for my professional ego, the past few days have more than made up for it.  The number of students who have expressed how glad they are to see me and the number of staff members who have expressed how much they like having me around has added up to a wonderful boost to my self-esteem.

I like what I do, and I feel that I'm pretty good at it.  Sure, there's room for improvement, but I work hard to make certain that my student's benefit from having taken a course with me.  There will always be those who hate me, and some who claim that having me as a teacher was a detriment to their lives.  For a while this summer, it felt like there were more of them than ever before.  These first days of school have changed that feeling.

This is why we as teachers need to remember the power of positive reinforcement.  It certainly works on me.  In truth, everyone needs to remember the power of kind words and friendly faces.  Whether it's on the job, in the home, or out on the town, a positive word or two can make all of the difference between enjoying life or dreading it.  May I make certain that I am providing that positive atmosphere to the people around me. 

I did not sleep that well; I usually don't on the night before the first day of school.  Even after sixteen years of teaching, I still have nightmares (like the one last night) about having a sudden room change and not being able to find it, or suddenly having my classes switch and having to teach something I have never taught before (which has happened).

To counteract this, I usually listen to at least some of the previous weekend's "Wait! Wait! Don't Tell Me!" (from NPR) that I record for my beginning-of-the-week drives.  I had discontinued the practice last year unless I was driving alone, but now Mera (my Prius) can play them on her speakers so we can both listen.  The combination of refreshing my mind of the previous week's news and lightening my soul with entertaining wit makes me feel genuinely prepared for the beginning of a week.

Truthfully, nightmares aside, I love the first day of school.  At no other time in the school year is there such an air of anticipation and determination.  Students arrive ready to prove themselves, to do better than they have ever done in the past.  Often, this energy wears off as the weeks continue, so I like to soak it in as much as possible on this first day.  Also, many of my students from previous years stop by to say hello, shake hands, or even give a quick hug.  It's usually on the first day that my previous students will sagely advise my incoming students about doing their work in my class and how to get on my "good side."

I am exhausted, but it's the good kind of exhaustion.  The kind of weariness that comes from knowing that I have a great job and get to deal with fantastic people.  Here's to another wonderful school year!

One of my favorite philosophical quotes comes from the movie "Back to the Future."  Marty McFly is continually told by his father, "If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything."  When he travels to the past, he tells his high-school age father the same thing, only to have it repeated to him again in his present.

As cliche as the phrase may be, it's one that I truly believe.  I have always supported the idea of the Renaissance Man, a person who attempts to excel at everything, one who is both logical and artistic, reasoning and passionate, cerebral and athletic.  In an age when hyper-specialization has become the way of life, this idea is not always accepted.  I often hear from students that they just aren't good at math (or English, or history, etc.) or that they are just like their parent who can't do math (or English, or history, etc.).

I believe that we are capable of succeeding at nearly everything.  There are some limitations in physical and mental ability, but I'm not talking about being the best in the world at everything.  With training, practice, dedication, and persistence, we humans have a nearly boundless potential.  Most of what stands in our way is our own stubborn refusal to try.

We are an amazing species with a grand destiny ahead of us.  We should not let nay-sayers keep us from doing the "impossible," even if the nay-sayers are ourselves.  

Yesterday, a friend of mine was explaining how he needed to change one of the questions on the opening survey he gives to students for statistical purposes.  The question was "How many of the Lord of the Rings movies have you seen?"  This summer, for the first time, not a single student in his classes answered "All three".  He asked me if I remembered watching Happy Days as a kid, and if I thought then that the 1950s seemed like they were so long ago.  He then pointed out that the 1950s were closer in time to us when we were watching Happy Days than we are now to when we were children.  Time seems to be moving so quickly now.

This made me think about some other issues of time that make me feel old.  Trevor was born the year before the 9/11 attacks and he's now in the eighth grade.  I have now lived more of my life being married than not, and more of my life being a father than not.  None of my children have lived in a world without the World Wide Web.  I have had my Yahoo email account for nearly half of my life.  Connor and Rowen have always lived in our current house.  Rowen never rode in our Green Silhouette.  Should my daughters have children, those children will probably be closer in age to Rowen than Rowen is to them.

There are some positives to this.  I get to watch Star Trek the Next Generation about every six years.  We're doing so right now since Trevor doesn't really remember seeing them and he's now the age I was when I first watched them.  Considering how little Connor and Rowen stay in the room, we will probably be doing this again.  I will get to do the same with other shows and movies that I love.

It's no wonder that so many of my "pop" references seem to go over my students' heads.  Even video game references which I used to think of as recent (e.g. "The cake is a lie" or "Would you kindly") are met now with a completely blank stare.  It's amazing how fast time has gone by.

When I first started teaching college courses in the evening, I was desperate enough for money that I taught classes at more than one school.  There was a stark contrast between the two.  One had a friendly and welcoming staff, a shorter term period, and composition classes that included literature.  The other had a staff that rarely responded to my questions, paid better per term but with longer terms, and had composition classes filled with "real world" readings.  There was no question as to which one I preferred.

A couple of years after devoting myself wholly to the first institution, it decided to change the policy of its composition courses.  Too many instructors devoted too much of the course to teaching literature rather than teaching composition through literature.  It's a subtle, albeit profound, difference.  To my horror, the sins of the few brought about a change in policy and literature was dropped from our composition classes.  I say "to my horror" because I had seen so many students open their minds as they were exposed to literature in my courses.  Many had only been exposed to great literature in the spoon-fed manner now common in so many middle and high schools.  For older students, this was their first reintroduction to literature in decades, and they found that life had refined their tastes to readings they had long discarded.  Unfortunately, my concerns were not enough to stop the machine, and literature has been removed from most of our students' lives.

Exposing people to great literature expands their minds and their vocabulary.  It gives them avenues of thinking that are otherwise unexplored.  It helps them to think of the greater world around them, to look a viewpoints other than those with which they are already too familiar.

We need literature, grand literature, in our lives lest they become pale imitations of lives.  We need literature to invigorate our senses and imaginations.  This cold, factory-like approach to teaching reading and writing rather than composition and literature is taking the soul out of our collegiate degrees.