Freud Asks a Question

Today Freud said (see 1st post for details) "What's up with Britney?"

In 8th period, I asked a question:
Me:What category does this poem fit into? Metaphysical, Romantic, Victorian, or Modern?
Kevin raised his hand.
Me: Yes Kevin?
Kevin: What's up with Britney?
Me: What?
Kevin: It's on the board. Did something else happen? What did she do now?
Me: How am I supposed to know? I came in this morning and that's what Freud was asking. I guess he's been thinking about it this weekend. You'll have to ask him.
Kevin: Oh. Well, Romantic, because it's about his moment of inspiration in nature.
Me: I wonder what kind of poetry Britney would write...

After Class, Genafer stops by.
Me: Yes?
Genafer: Metaphysical, Ms. Stutelberg.

It took me a while to realize she was answering the Britney question.

Thursday Hell

I am not usually one to complain, but one aspect of my teaching schedule this year bites. On Monday, Tuesday, and Friday, we have a single-period day, periods 1-8 with lunch as 5th hour. On Wednesday and Thursday, classes are blocks (96 minutes), odds on Monday and evens on Thursday. We only have three classes on Wednesday and students are let out of school 1 1/2 hours early while teachers do professional development. On Thursdays, there are four block classes with a lunch in the middle.

My prep period is 7th and I have team planning (English department common planning for collaboration and department meetings) 3rd hour. That means on Mondays I teach one 96 minute class and I'm done for the day.

Then comes Thursday. On Thursdays I teach 4 block classes, 96 minutes each, with a break for lunch in the middle. It is absolutly the most exhausting thing I have ever done. I feel like I have done 6 hours of aerobic exercise at the end of the day. My 8th period class thinks I'm losing my mind. Yesterday they told me that I was acting "a little Britney" and I think we all know what they mean by that. Yes, my students have to sit through four 96 minute block classes on Thursday, but it's not the same. Keeping teenagers' attention for 96 minutes involves acrobatics, including juggling, stand up comedy, inspiration, and something that seems more like a game than learning. Every Thursday. Three different courses. All grade levels. To top it all off, on Thursdays the school day lasts 2 extra minutes, until 2:47, to even up the class periods. TWO EXTRA MINUTES.

I scream. The room goes black. I'm on the floor. It's all over.

By Friday morning, I sort of know my name again. I can write straight on the chalkboard. I'm no longer "a little Britney." I'm Stutelberg again, semi-embarassing member of the faculty volleyball team and the teacher who says, "We don't say 'shut up' in my class....we say 'shut your ugly face.'" And the kids laugh. She's back!

The Bard is Hard!

The other day, my students were having trouble discerning Spenserian and Shakespearean sonnets. First, let me be honest, when I read the above sentence, I almost can't believe it. We've gotten much farther this year than I expected we would. Anyway, a little background...

Both the Spenserian and Shakespearean sonnets are organized in quatrains with a rhyming couplet at the end. The Spenserian sonnet rhymes abab bcbc cdcd ee. The Shakespearean sonnet rhymes abab cdcd efef gg. You can see how the two could be easily confused. One types carries a rhyme through to the next quatrain, thus linking them more closely. But both have that all-important end couplet that resolves, restates, or redefines the central problem of the sonnet.

This is what I came up with on the fly. First I asked, "Who is the O.G. of poetry?" [O.G. = Original Gangsta'] The students replied, "Shakespeare, duh!" "Well," I said, "the O.G. uses the gg! That's how you can remember!"

Were they laughing at me or do they just think I'm that cool? Either way, I bet they'll always remember who uses the gg.

Shakespeare...OG!

Introduction to Your Mother and Composition

There are probably a lot of these out there, but the only thing I really have to write about it school. I am a high school English teacher in Denver, Colorado. I used to work in THAT school...you know, the one that made everyone shake their heads and tsk tsk when it was mentioned. The one that made a (white) person's eyes get big and look at you as if you'd just returned from feeding orphans in a Kenyan refugee camp. But that school got blown up by the superintendent and in the explosion I landed south of town in another public urban school with a slightly better reputation. I love my job. I might say something bitter every once-in-a-while, but it won't be about my students who are fantastic human beings. I might make fun of said students sometimes, but only because they are teenagers and they deserve it. Mostly, I'm going to try to find something funny or hopeful to say. We do not focus enough on what is funny and what is hopeful about the work that we as teachers do. I'll start off with a little diddy about Sigmund Freud.

I have a Sigmund Freud finger puppet doll on the chalkboard in my classroom (yes, Sigmund would find it funny to be a finger puppet and yes, my school has chalkboards--we're an urban public school district, remember?). I have drawn a cartoon word bubble coming out of his mouth and since school has started he has said funny and insightful things. Of course, at the beginning of the year I explained to my students who Freud was. They were amused and immediately asked to read Oedipus Rex. Imagine, 17-year-olds asking to read Ancient Greek Literature. Be still my beating heart.

Anyway, on Tuesday, Freud said, "I am thankful for my mother." It was up all day and not a word from my students (they must have had something else--like VACATION FROM SCHOOL--on their minds). As the bell was leaving to signify the end of 8th period, and the school day, Josh approached me. "Thankful for my mother, Miss Stutelberg? That's messed up." He smiled. "Just wanted to see who was paying attention, Josh," I replied. "Oh, everyone has been talking about it all day. You have a good thanksgiving, Miss."

And thus, my reputation begins to establish itself.