That's My Boy

Today I am proud. Proud of my kid. I've been proud of so much of what he does, so much about the man he is becoming. I am as guilty as the next parent of kid bragging on social media. You'll hear me say it's to keep my family apprised of all he's doing, and in large part that's true. But like any proud parent, when I'm beaming about my kid's accomplishments and good deeds, it's hard not to share. You'll never see me post his grades or anything about his report card. If you have followed my blogs over the years or know me well personally, you'll remember two reasons for this. The first is my kid never gets straight A's, and the second is that for the most part I don't give a shit about grades (You can read more about this here). They mean very little about true learning, and they are important to us only because colleges care. And we'd like our son to go to college.

If you click on that link above, you'll read about some experiences with my son that really shed light on why I believe what I do about grades. But tonight, I seek only to pose a challenge. I ask you, does this kid meet the criteria you believe should be in place to graduate high school? Does my son demonstrate what the standards writers would call College and Career Readiness? 

Let me present the evidence:

My son can read anything and everything he needs to get his needs met, to educate himself on the things that interest him both in career path and hobby. He is a varsity athlete, close to becoming an Eagle Scout, and he has earned multiple computer industry certifications. He has a part-time job in a restaurant and pays for his own gas and car insurance. Last night, a Saturday night, he worked until 9pm and spent the rest of the night and into the early hours of the morning building his own website. Reluctantly, he took a job in the restaurant business; he's good at it and he likes it. But when he searched high and low and pounded the pavement trying to meet with people and make contacts to get a job in the computer field (he's more qualified than many adults thanks to the AMAZING technology program at his high school), he kept getting turned away. Whether they wouldn't hire anyone under 18 or simply didn't believe this "kid" could have the qualifications he needed, he had the doors slammed in his face, one after the other. So what does he do? He decided if no one would give him the opportunity, he would have to create his own. And he started his own business. That's right, my 17 year old son, a junior in high school, has started his own custom build/upgrade computer business.

And he'll continue to work at the restaurant, and he'll continue to put forth enough effort to get average grades so he can get into college. But it won't be a competition. He won't be worried being at the top of the class, or about getting into a high profile college, only that he can focus on his field. And I'll tell you what. I challenge you to follow him and any valedictorian over the next 10 years and I bet their success and their happiness won't be much different. In fact, my son is likely to be already earning wages more than his mom and dad. And he'll be doing what he loves to do.

I rest my case.

Shameless plug: If you're in the market, here's his website Kemputers

3 Nouns

Serenity
Norah Jones album, a hammock swinging in the breeze
push and pull of the tide on a mildly warm day at the coast
a long drive in solitude with the sunroof open wide
a steamy hot shower without the rush to finish
eucalyptus or lavender scented hand lotion
refreshing evening breezes and long walks in nature
a long deep gaze into campfire flames

Happiness
A child learning to read, baby toes
long weekends and fruity cocktails
belly laughs from your children and funny movies
sunsets and flip flops, rollercoaster rides
dinner with a friend, phone calls on your birthday
photos from your favorite vacation
the woods, the beach, the great outdoors

Love
Puppy kisses and wagging tails
being married to your very best friend
all night conversations with your sister
random I love you's from the your child now grown
support and acceptance, guidance and understanding
parents who give it all unconditionally
family from generation to generation

Control

...make your life a little easier. When you get the chance, just take control. Ooh ooh... -Janet Jackson

It's funny. If you work in education or a social services field, you start to understand a lot about people. Whether it's the psychology or human development classes you take in college or the experiences you have working with people, you start to figure things out. Don't get me wrong, I am not a psychologist or a mental health counselor. I wouldn't know what to do in a therapy session. But I have come to develop some understanding of human behavior, especially my own. Today, as I finally sat down to relax for a few minutes (at 7pm), I'm doing a little armchair self-psychoanalysis. Let me explain...

I walked into a quiet house. I was alone, my son went to work and my husband was at a meeting. I dropped my purse on the dining room table and pulled out my cell phone leaving it next to my purse. Normally my next step would be to go upstairs, change my clothes, and tie up my hair. Then I would wash up and cook dinner. Tonight, I did no such thing. At least not right away. First, I went into the kitchen and threw out some trash I brought in from the car that was still in my hand. Walking over to the trash can, I noticed my dog's food bowl was still full from yesterday. I had to empty it because she's been sick and it had broth poured over it last night. She didn't eat it and now it was mush. So I dumped it out in the trash can and washed her bowl, leaving it on the counter to dry. That's when I noticed there were several rinsed out containers needing to be put in the recycle bin, and I did that. There were also a couple of dirty dishes that hadn't made it to the dishwasher yet. Hmmm, one guess whose dishes they were. (Hint: Not me, not my husband.) When I was satisfied everything was in order in the kitchen, I walked back to the dining room.

Let me just tell you about my dining room. It's right when you walk in the door, so it's a dumping ground for everyone's crap! There were piles of mail, mostly opened and full of junk like credit card offers we don't need and ads. I pull out every piece of paper strewn about and sorted through each piece. A magazine and a car stereo manual for my husband, a swim award certificate and some scout paperwork for my husband, a bunch of trash, and a bill for me. I put it all in its respective places, and I could start to see the beautiful wood of the my dining room table top. Next I took a shopping bag, and collected every piece of stuff my son had left around the dining room floor, the bench he sits on at the table, and the table top. Brace yourself, a box from one of his Christmas presents, a report card, some computer pieces, a wire, a t-shirt, the list is too long to include everything. I have been asking him for months to clean it up, and he complains he has nowhere to put it all. But that shopping bag held all of it, and I took it with the two hoodies he left on the living room and brought it all up to his room. He'll have to find a place for it or throw it out. After that, I returned the three screwdrivers and various screws along with a ruler, to the my husbands toolbox area in the garage. He'll have to find a home for them. Finally, I put away the two dirty cups left on the table after last night's dinner. Give you another guess. I took the two books I left on the table and placed them on the book shelf, and gathered up some small items I received as gifts at a work breakfast yesterday. The dining room table is fit for a meal now.

Next, I took a couple of Amazon boxes, which in our house are more common than cereal boxes, and put them in a pile by the garage door for my husband to sort through. He likes to keep some but not others and I never know which ones. Then I went upstairs where I took off my jewelry and put it away. I changed out of my work clothes, put my shoes away and straightened up my closet. And then I cleaned up my night table which had begun to gather things like Neosporin and first aid tape (My husband had a wound I was covering daily last week.), a necklace I wore earlier in the week and didn't put away, and other odds and ends.

Finally, 45 minutes later, I came downstairs, sat down on the couch and thought about what I had done.  And now I get to my point. Right now things are kind of stressful in my life. I have little control over a lot of what is happening around me. I am in perpetual crazy mode at work with testing season weighing on me. I have been down a teacher who is out sick, and trying as usual to keep my team together. Today, I had two pressing things I needed to deal with and I couldn't because I was stuck in a test session with no electronic communication allowed, and no ability to do anything other than stare at the kids testing. But I will spare you a diatribe on standardized testing. At home, my dog is slowly fading. We are in constant limbo about when the right time is to put her to sleep to prevent suffering, and trying to keep her comfortable. We have some family issues outside our home which are becoming a little stressful. Comparatively speaking, my life is pretty good. I just have a lot going on that is out of my control.

So here is where the understanding of human behavior comes into play. When things in our lives feel out of control, we look for things we can control. The mess all around me is largely out of my control, but the mess inside my house is in my control. So I cleaned it up. Hopefully, keeping the clutter and disarray out of my home will help me keep it out of my life.  And though some things are inevitably out of my control, I have 100% control over how I deal with them. You know what they say: Knowing is half the battle.

I'm in control, and I love it. -Janet Jackson

Pretty sure she's lip-syncing here, but who cares. Love the dancing!

How Do You Know?

I wrote several months back about my dog who had been very sick. We thought she had cancer, and it turned out she had a diseased kidney. Still does. But after some treatment she bounced back a bit. We went from a couple of weeks sobbing daily over what we thought was our dying dog, to feeling blessed that she bounced back most of the way and was seeming like herself again. She was not young for a dog, and the kidney was still bad, but she was energetic again and eating regularly. All the happiness however, we knew was on borrowed time. We knew every additional day we had left with Lacey was bonus time. She was never going to completely recover long-term, especially without removing her bad kidney. Based on those horrible weeks and Lacey's reactions to the procedures she had already experienced, combined with a low likelihood she would be healthy even afterward, we elected not to have her kidney removed. We decided as a family, as long as she was comfortable and happy, we would spoil her and enjoy our time with her until she seemed to suffer discomfort or take a turn for the worse. At that time we would bring her in and let go of her peacefully. The thought of her being in pain, or dying traumatically in our home were scenarios we couldn't bear.

We've had a great couple of months. But recently Lacey's condition has been questionable. She's slowing down considerably, not eating all that regularly, and can no longer make it the full distance on our daily walks. She can jump up on the bed but is hesitant to jump down. She still wags her tail and comes to the kitchen to beg, and those are both good signs. It's becoming more and more difficult to know what's right. Another trip to the vet is likely to yield a list of things the doctor wants to do, surgeries, procedures, etc. We know from last time it would just stress her out. So we're left with our gut instinct. We are left with trying to make the best of the time left, and knowing when it's time to say goodbye. When you love your pet this much, how do you know?

  

Massage Therapist

Do you ever wonder where all the worries go?
lumps pounded out and knots untied
muscles unraveling loosely to the floor
imagine unbalanced checkbooks and unpaid bills
piling up in the corners and on the shelf
sick children and defiant teenagers
laying all over the floor
Piles of laundry and piles of debt
closing in and around the room
friends with cancer and relatives with Alzheimers
what a woeful place to work
standing all alone in everyone's worries
kneading them out
rolling them past the shoulders
pushing them over the sides of the table
and onto the floor
arguing parents and forgotten birthdays
dying pets and runaways
failed exams and burnt dinners
brides left at the altar
grooms holding rings turned away
rejection letters and dear John letters
unreturned phone calls
foreclosures and bankruptcies
crashed computers with important documents
gigantic tax bills and student loan payments
and one person releasing it all
pulling it out of others, rubbing it out
of necks and shoulders
backs and legs
melting it all away
and standing in the middle of the funk
Love to the massage therapist

Place

If education in general, and writing education in particular, is to become more relevant, to become a real force for improving the societies in which we live, then it must become more closely linked to the local, to the spheres of action and influence which most of us experience.  -Robert E. Brooke


Sense of place. This is a topic I held very dear to me while I was in graduate school. I channeled so much of my learning about what I believe to be quality and relevant education, through the lens of place-based and experiential education. When I joined the National Writing Project, another layer developed. I have both written and spoken about this time in my life often, and how so many pieces seemed to come together at a perfect place and time for deeper understanding. From time to time, okay often, I miss being in school. I profess regularly my desire to remain in school forever,  joking if I could make a living going to school then I would remain a student indefinitely. But what I have done is subconsciously talked myself into believing I need to be in school to be a student. G-d knows, I have referred to myself enough times as a lifelong learner. I know I am, and I need to start living like one.

I was approached professionally about the topic of place-based education recently. I was tickled, because as whole-heartedly as I believe in this approach to teaching and learning, I had set the big idea up on a cognitive shelf. It seemed in the current educational climate (at least where I live), there wasn't a comfortable place for it. I always hoped I would be able to pull it down off the shelf again and bring it to life.

We get so caught up these days about how our kids measure up globally and what they are going to do to change the world. People fail to realize "it is at the local level where we are most able to act, and at the local level where we are most able to affect and improve community." (Brooke, 4) Perhaps kids in local schools could be looking at the business and politics around standardized assessments. Maybe they could look at statistics about poverty related to literacy and achievement. What about violence and crime? These are the important issues in their own communities. Or how about preserving the local history and building commerce to support the local economy. Doesn't it make sense for local kids to learn about the local watershed and water supply, the native plant and wildlife?

This is not by any means a new idea. It just needs new energy. We need to stop measuring our children on an international scale of nothingness. It seems widely agreed upon by most everyone I know, that the rigid walls of the classroom need to break down. Kids need to be outdoors more and experience things in nature. How in the world can we expect the next generation to preserve what they have if they don't appreciate or even know what they have?

Place-based education is not just about environmental education, though. It asks us to examine our sense of place. As Sobel (2005) explains, a rooted learner stands within the world, acting on it, rather than standing outside looking in as an observer. "Learning and writing and citizenship are richer when they are tied to and flow from local culture." (Brooke, 4). Instead of or in addition to learning about far away places and times long ago, we could focus on here and now and what we can learn by being a part of the present- here, where we live.

I am starting a refocusing effort on my sense of place. You can already see it in my poetry, photography, and other musings. But I'm getting back to a pedagogy of place. I know good things are in store. The time feels right.

The Gift of Present

I've been working hard on this idea of living in the moment, being present. For so much of my life I've worried about the future. Where my next job will be, when I'll have enough money to go on vacation, where my kid will get into college. Taking up yoga and practicing mindfulness has helped me tremendously in this endeavor. And today, I got a sign from the universe. Out of the clear blue, I got a message. A message with an underlying message. The words said what they had to, but the message said so much more.

The Gift of Present
by Laurie J. Kemp

Be who you know how to be
change your beliefs and your values for no one
there is a time and a place
and it is always here and now
soon enough you will find yourself in both
those ideals and ideas held dear will guide you
in a new and unexpected direction
and you will be ready because you have been waiting
patiently giving of yourself the way you know how
in a place that receives what you have to offer
and gives your soul the nourishment it needs
the future will become the present
and your moments will be here and now
the gift of present

Staycation Date

He really loves me

Staycation date at the beach

Perfect Saturday

Fruity drink, dinner

Hand in hand, toes in the sand

A walk on the beach

Diving for dinner

Saturday night seafood fest

Gotta get just one

Salty air blowing

Sunroof open, windows down

Sunset perfection

Soaring

The last couple of years, I've become a bird lover. I'm not the diehard "birdwatcher" type, and I don't even have a feeder. or binoculars. I have not yet purchased any kind of guide to crosscheck every bird I see, though I have occasionally looked up information on websites. I'm not necessarily interested in becoming the know-all bird reference in my social circle. I just love watching them. If I have the occasion to watch a bird, especially in flight, I'll take it. Simple as that. I'm pretty enthralled with the idea of flying. I just marvel (a bit enviously) at their seemingly effortless flight through the air. I took these photos with my iPhone out on Barefoot Beach in Bonita Springs. Enjoy.

Centsless

We were young. Old enough to drive, but inexperienced on the road. Somehow, we bamboozled my mom into allowing us to take her car for the day. The thing is, we didn't tell her where we were going. I'm not even sure she knows now where we took her car that day. But the funny thing about lying is, if something goes wrong you're just plain screwed. Only one way to avoid getting screwed, don't let anything go wrong...

We packed a cooler, got some gas, and we headed down to The Keys. Not all the way down to Key West, just past Miami, south of Homestead, into Key Largo. Man we thought we were pretty hot stuff. We had a couple of snacks and a bottle of champagne. Hilarious, huh? Champagne? I can't even remember where we got it. Neither one of us was old enough to buy alcohol at the time. I think we also had a disposable camera, because somewhere in the archives there's actually a couple of faded photos from that day. We climbed on some rocks and ran through the water, never going swimming all the way in. I barely even remember how we spent our time. It's the ride home I remember. We must have stopped somewhere for lunch and spent the little money we had. Tired from the sun and sand, I laid back while Paul drove us home. Though we failed to tell my mom where were going, it never bothered her when Paul drove the car. She trusted him. On the way back, we were approaching a toll plaza- one we had forgotten all about while spending the few bucks we had earlier in the day. "Shit!" I felt panicked as I announced to Paul, "We don't have any toll money." I scrounged around, digging into the bottom of my purse, scouring the floor and the creases in the seat. This was long before the days of the SunPass, let alone the pay by license plate program. Again, young and inexperienced, I was scared. I wondered what happens when people can't pay a toll, and what would happen if my mom found out where we were. Then Paul pulled to the side of the road so we could try to collect some change (and ourselves). Miraculously, we managed to gather enough change, mostly in pennies. Yes, they don't like it, but toll collectors human or machine, take pennies. With a sigh of relief, we made it through the toll plaza and got home with no problem.

I'm pretty sure my mom is just finding out about this for the first time as she reads this blog.

3 Verbs

Indulge
Chocolate covered strawberries, real mac and cheese
a pedicure, an eyebrow wax, a cleaning lady twice a month
a new pair of shoes when you don't really need them
an entire day to read or write, or both
sleeping in late on weekends

Delight
A freshly sharpened Ticonderoga pencil
a fizzy San Pellegrino, a piece of fresh bread
a yoga class, a single sneeze
a perfect sunny and seventy degrees
learning a never heard before word

Relish
Dinner around the table with family
a close-up snuggle with a furry friend
a warm caress from a lifetime love
random I love you's from a grown child
the moment you fall in love with yourself

Forget

Photo retrieved from pixabay.com

After a round of Remember poems by my writing group, one of the members suggested we write Forget poems. I wrote this one.

Forget

Forget about the future. You can predict nothing.

Forget about the "what if"s and the "one day"s, and think about the "right here, right now"s.


Forget about the buts and maybes, and opt for the "hell yeah"s and "make it so"s.


Forget about "could have been" and "might be" and


Do It.


Right here, right now.


Forget about some day, 


and seize the day.

Then I came home from work and my writing group meeting tonight to learn some very sad news. My son came pounding down the stairs at full speed, "Mom, Luke's dad died last night." Luke is a friend from middle school, and last night his dad lost a short and brutal battle with cancer. His mom, an at-home mom and a very kind woman, has been left to raise four children on our own. Luke is the oldest of three boys and a girl, all really great kids who are now without a father. My heart goes out to this lovely family, and I only hope they find peace in their love for one another as they try to cope. For them, and for everyone who has suffered the loss of a loved one, I wrote this.

Forget

Forget the little argument you had this morning.

Forget about the thing you wanted him to do but he didn't.

Forget the time he was late.

Forget about the shirt he shrunk in the dryer, 

or the dish he dropped and broke by mistake.

Forget the pile of papers on your desk 

and the phone calls you haven't returned.

And Remember.

Remember the touch of his hand and the warmth of his smile.

Remember the first time he said I love you.

Remember when you promised you'd always be together.

Remember the deepest kind of love is the kind it hurts to lose,

and it's worth every bit of risk.

Remember to give your heart with reckless abandon,

and to cherish every moment while you can.

Forget the little things and remember what matters most.

Winging It

Winging it. That's what my parents called it when my mom threw together casual snack food and leftovers, and we ate as a family in front of the TV. I know this scene probably doesn't sound unusual these days, but when I was growing up my family always ate dinner together. At the table. No television, no distractions. Just the four of us around the table with dinner and conversation. My husband grew up the same way and thus, we always eat dinner at the dining room table. The two of us with our son, no TV, no phones, no distractions.

But these once in a blue moon nights around the television were fun too. It was still a family dinner. Whether we watched a movie, a sporting event, or some awards show, we did it together. And the finger food, well that was a treat. My mom is a great cook, and dinner meant all food groups- a healthy salad or melon, and then a plate of meat or poultry, veggies, and starch. Yes! We ate carbs and still do! However, these nights there were no rules: cheese and crackers, chips and dips, leftover Chinese, mac and cheese, pigs in blankets, mini quiches. You get the idea. It was never the same spread, but it was met with the same delight. I loved winging it.

Fast forward about thirty years, when my son was a young boy. Out of habit, I brought the tradition of winging it into my own home. I too, cook a well-rounded meal each night and we eat as a family around the dining room table. So one night when my son asked me what we were having for dinner and I had no plan, I told him we were winging it. And I did what my mom had always done. I pulled out whatever was in the freezer and the pantry, maybe repurposed some leftovers, and got what you might call a smorgasbord. Just like that, a tradition lived on.

As the years went on and my son accompanied me to the grocery store, once in awhile he would say, "Mom, can we just wing it for dinner tonight?" I was tickled by his adoption of the phrase and the ritual, but it started to evolve into something a little bit different. Instead of a throw together of what was already around (hence the term "winging it"), it became a spread of all our favorite party finger foods- some bought, some homemade. But it was our own little TV party, and I loved it.

My son still likes to go to out to eat with us, and from time to time we'll even all agree on a movie to go out and see in the theater. But rarely does he sit and watch TV with us, and we don't watch very much anyway. Then yesterday, he asked me if he could go grocery shopping with me. I have no illusions about why he wanted to go. He asks often so a) he can eat while he is there- Publix sub or sushi; and b) so he can make sure I buy all the things he likes (which I always do anyway). Maybe, just maybe, he also likes hanging out with me a little bit.

As we were walking through the store, my son who is now apparently too old to use our kiddie terms, said to me, "Mom, can we do TV food and watch a movie together tonight?" I'm not going to lie, I was doing cartwheels inside.

"You mean you're going to watch a movie with Dad and me?"

"Yeah."

And as we walked down the aisle I texted my husband explaining and asked, "You okay with that?" As if I didn't already know the answer.

"Fantastic!" he responded, and plans were underway.

Step by step, aisle by aisle, my son rattled on, "Can you make [this]" and "How about [that]?" I quickly realized we were hardly winging it.

"Funny, it seems like you'd have me in the kitchen all afternoon," I said. He insisted that wasn't his intention, and we compromised. I would make homemade mac and cheese and homemade potato skins, and we would buy Nathan's pig in blankets. He even came up with the idea of adding fresh broccoli to the mac and cheese. After all, we needed something green.

And I made his favorites. And I didn't care how high carb it was or high fat any of it was, because it was a special occasion. It might be the last time my almost-eighteen-year-old asked in so many words if we could wing it.

Remember

A writing group friend posted the poem Remember by Joy Harjo. She wrote her own version to model for her students with whom she used Harjo's as a mentor poem. She also shared some beautiful poetry written by her middle school students. Then, another writing group member wrote one of her own. Together they all inspired me to write my own Remember poem. Here it is.

Remember

Remember what the great ones told you,
experience and discovery are what they need.
Remember what it is like to wonder. We were young once too.

Remember teaching by inspiring, your enthusiasm was contagious.
Remember sunrise and the excitement of a new day.
Remember their faces, how they lit up
when you started a new story or introduced a new lesson.

Remember why you wanted to be a teacher. How much you love to learn
and wanted to share the love with others.
Remember when you knew why you were here. When you were trusted to
do what you do best.

Remember you know what kids need.

Remember Dewey, and Whitehead, Bruner and Freire,
and remember your beliefs about learning.
Remember poetry and prose, and the importance of the narrative.
Remember doing is learning.

Remember experience.

Remember who you are.
Remember what you know.
Remember what they need.

Remember transformation.

Place

1987
Sweltering
sticky, nasty
flatland
humidity, rain
frizz, sweat
discomfort.

Change of heart
Change of perspective.

Warm
sunny, breezy
peninsula
hydration, vegetation
sand, sea
peace.

My home
My fortune.

Florida
2016

Sandals

I love shoes! Mostly, I love sandals. Today is a sad day because I think it's time to say goodbye to one of my favorite pairs. Several times in my life, I've found the perfect combination of style and comfort. A perfect pair of shoes. Each of these very special moments, when you pick a pair off the shelf and they fit just right, is a time to celebrate. It's a time to capitalize and stock up. I think to myself, by a couple of pairs and put them away in your closet. You're going to want a back up when the first pair dies. Then I think, I don't have that kind of money. When this pair's had enough I'll be ready for something new. So I only buy one pair. And I almost always regret it. Today was one of those days.

I bought these sandals a little over a year ago. I can laugh out loud when telling you they are from the Jennifer Lopez line! It killed me to buy anything with her name on it. In fact, I almost didn't buy them. But then I put them on. I liked that there was a back over the heel and several straps across the foot. They fit great and the price was right. And we all know, whether you like closed toe or sandals, you can never have too many pairs of black shoes. So I bought them. I thought about buying the back up pair, and as always, talked myself out of it to save some money.  Boy do I wish I had the extra now.

Look at these photos. I have worn this pair of sandals into the ground. The soles are separating from the leather. I have tried gluing them and coloring the scuffs with a black Sharpie. I wore them to work yesterday, and tripped over the flaps several times. They are becoming hazardous!

Look at the toe thong. It's practically pulling out of the shoe. This is a common casualty for sandals, especially flip flops. Once that thong is uprooted, it's instant death for the sandal. Notice too the loose threads pulling up from the top of the strap. These sandals have really had it. I know it's hard to believe I am writing about and creating a photo memorial to a pair of sandals, but sniff sniff, this pair was something special. I even remember my husband telling me he liked them. Compliments from my husband on a pair of sandals? Not a common occurrence. They are special.

Even the heels are shot. The Sharpie can't save them this time. This pair of sandals is done, and it's time to say goodbye. I took them off knowing I had probably worn them for the last time. I had planned to throw them away, and yet here they are sitting on my bedroom floor. I just can't part with them. Maybe tomorrow. 

I love sandals, but I really love these sandals.

Soundtracking Your Life

As promised, a continuation of yesterday's post about soundtracks. Teachers, you're going to love this. I've written before about the private school I worked at early in my teaching career. Besides the great people, one of the best things about that job was I got to teach all subjects and integrate them whenever and however I wanted. I was guided by the state standards but I made my own academic plan. I did a ton of thematic teaching, and sometimes I just took concepts and skills I thought went well together and created multidisciplinary lessons to engage my students. Because back then, teachers were trusted and allowed to do what they thought was good for kids. Here's the evolution of my soundtracking lesson and what we actually did with it:

Throughout my career, I have found students have learned a lot of the same historical ideas and events over and over. Yes, at each level there may be more depth. But essentially U.S. History classes beginning from the Civil War, often do not get to modern history before the school year ends. Let me tell you something. Kids want to learn about modern history. They can look up "really old stuff" in a book, but they want to hear about the time their great grandparents and grandparents lived- in some cases their parents too. Lucky for me, I did not have a blow by blow academic plan like they do in public school, and EOCs did not yet exist in Florida. I had the freedom to bounce a little (all teachers should have this freedom) and I decided to hook them in with what they wanted for a unit.

1. It all started with timelining. We explored modern history, and then looked at recent history and current events from just before they were born, to present time. (For my teacher friends who can't help themselves to ask, social studies skills in reading a timeline, chronology, primary sources- among other things.)  They wrote down the year they were born, and the current year, and created a two tier timeline of things going on in the world and things going on in America.
2. Next, they did some deeper research about the events they selected for their timeline, and wrote brief summaries. Sometimes they found connections between events going on in America and events going on in other parts of the world Are you catching the additional social studies connections here?
3. Throughout the research phase, we all engaged in quite a bit of discussion. The authentic kind. Like when a student reads something, or finds something out, or questions something, and we all stop what we're doing and engage in a discussion. Remember the elephants in the classroom from the article I wrote about in my post, I Agree from a couple of days ago? Most real learning happens informally. This is the kind of learning that went on in my classroom daily, because no one was forcing a pacing guide on me or scheduling all my assessments for me.
4. Once the research was done and the dates and summaries were completed, students physically created their timelines and added a third tier. The third tier would be significant events in their own lives. Most of them began with the day they were born, others included earlier dates of when their parents met. As short as their lives might have seemed, they had a tough time selecting events. Some of them found once they selected personal events in their own lives, they wanted to go back and revise their world and country timelines to reflect things that happened at the same time as their personal events. This was a true learning experience for them as they sought after their place in the world during these events. They got outside their own lives and connected to what else was going on around them.
5. When the three tiered timelines were completed, I asked students to try and remember music associations with these events and other significant times in their lives. I asked them to list songs, albums, and artists they loved and try think about why they liked the music so much. Then I asked them to consider if any of the music was associated with certain experiences, people, or times in their lives. We thought about songs we might not like and how they may also exist on our soundtracks because whether we actually liked the songs or not, they seemed to be an important part of the soundtrack. I gave them a limit of 15 songs, and they had to be able to explain beyond "because I like it" as a reason to include it on their soundtracks. By the way, I did not prohibit them from selecting songs with explicit lyrics. This was a choice I made not to censor them. However, they knew they would not be able to play those songs aloud in the classroom, as the language might offend others. 
6. Finally, when the deliberation was over and they were able to compile a list of just the right songs, they had to write a brief paragraph for each one, explaining the significance of the song or a reason why it was included on their life soundtrack. They peer reviewed, I conferenced with them multiple times, and they revised throughout the process. After final edits, the timeline, the list of songs, and the written explanations would be put together for a final presentation. I told them if they had the music, they should bring it in for their presentation. But I did not require them to purchase any music, and I forbade them from illegally downloading it (think back, those were the days of Napster & Lime Wire).
7. The last requirement was to present the timeline, the music and a few of the notes about the music. But for extra credit (one of the very few times I actually offered extra credit- and with today's technology I would make this a requirement), I suggested students create jewel cases (yes, for CD's) with an album cover, a song list, and liner notes. The cover could be anything creative to title the project, and the liner notes would be excerpts from what they wrote about each song. The projects were truly fantastic and the kids learned so much about each other and different kinds of music. They also learned quite a bit about the role music played in their lives and how songs can just place us in certain moments in time. Additionally, there was an "ah huh" moment when the kids made the connection between significant events in the world and the popularity of certain music.

I can only imagine the artwork and designs that would come from students today, with so much technology at their fingertips for creating. This project was so much fun for this class, and they learned so many different things along the way. For students with language-based struggles, asking them to write about things they care about made for some of the best writing they had ever done. I'm pretty sure no one opted out. I can't say for certain. And true confessions: In order to prepare for the project, I did one of my own and I had a ball creating my own soundtrack. I'm not sure it would be the same today, if I did it again. Perhaps, a volume 2 instead?

I'll tell you what. I love creative projects and I love when kids are engaged in learning. This was one of the best lessons I ever did with high school students. Give it try, won't you?  

Here's one that made the cut on my Volume 1. It's a staple for a University of Miami grad, though I have to say I was never really a fan of the band or the song. It's a part of me forever, like it or not.

P.S. These are the students who gave me my email username, Rockinteach. That's how new email was. It started as my AIM screen name!