47.1 Fall 2010

Statement

The Journal of the Colorado Language Arts Society Fall 2010, Volume 47, Number 1

words

Secretive Banking Elite Gone Wild sign up today a bustling lunch crowd debunking the Myths About Hip-Hop

Google Zeitgeist: the potential to produce something tasty, or a nauseating mess Where

we live any paper on any day will contain vitriolic diatribe and thoughtful analysis fully feathered

atrociously dressed stars demonstrating their religiosity through dance, music and painting Chances are, it’s been a while since you last used your superpowers, useful traits for pioneers dreaming of educational opportunities Would you like a stress pill? I

can flip the Empty Quarter produce

found

right

here

locally grown in Colorado

Quantum string of three billion jobseekers

NET NEUTRALITY AGREEMENT HAS MANY PODIATRISTS SKEPTICAL

that’s going to interesting Shining

prove a

light waste

real on and

wrongdoing, dysfunction, injustice Oh well explore the many new adventures that await them bringing dead planets back to life Like many kids, we

sometimes pretended the floor was hot lava

Inside this Issue: “Lizard Language” by Dr. Leslie Miller “The Marvelous Poetry of Pat Mora” by Dr. G. Douglas Meyers “A Community of Writers: Discourse in a Third Grade Classroom” by Lori Schultz “Overcoming the Language Barrier” by Qiongying Du and Bruce Degi

Statement

The Journal of the Colorado Language Arts Society Fall 2010, Volume 47, No. 1 Columns Making a Statement: Words in Books about Words in School

by Mike Wenk............................................................................................................................................................ 4 ELA in the 21st Century: Navigating the Digital Landscape

by Philippe Ernewein................................................................................................................................................ 6 YA Literature: Keeping Words from Kids

by Jill Adams............................................................................................................................................................. 9 After the Bell: Inside Out

by Josh Curnett....................................................................................................................................................... 32

Feature Articles

Lizard Language: The Awful Consequences of “Awfulizing” in Our Internal and External Dialogue

by Leslie Miller......................................................................................................................................................... 12 A Community of Writers: Discourse in a Third Grade Classroom

by Lori Schultz.......................................................................................................................................................... 18 “¡Mira!” The Marvelous Poetry of Pat Mora

by Doug Meyers....................................................................................................................................................

21

Overcoming the Language Barrier: A Chinese Professor and an American Professor Employ Word Games to Teach Language

by Qiongying Du and Bruce Degi........................................................................................................................ 29

Teacher as Writer Poetry Re-doux

by Donna Miller......................................................................................................................................................... 7 The View

by Patty Besch........................................................................................................................................................ 16

Resources Call for Submissions.................................................................................................................................................. 2 Guidelines for Contributors...................................................................................................................................... 3

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Call For Submissions Statement is published three times a year, and is one of the benefits of being a member of the Colorado Language Arts Society. The mission of Statement is to advance the teaching and learning of English Language Arts in Colorado. While we welcome readership beyond the Centennial State and we encourage submissions from outside of Colorado, what makes our publication most relevant for our members is content which addresses the interests and issues of Colorado teachers.

Theme for Spring Issue: Teacher Idea Exchange Often the most useful and most engaging professional development comes when the presenter says, “Now turn and talk to another teacher.” We can learn so much from our colleagues, when we have the time to talk.

Consider this issue your chance to talk to a colleague who teaches in another school, in another district, even in another region of the state. What’s your best teaching tip? What resources (i.e. technology, programs, guest speakers, PD, etc.) should other teachers hear about? What’s a lesson you’re particularly proud of? Articles should be approximately 500 words; contributions are welcome from pre-K through college. Deadline: January 31, 2011.

Theme for Summer Issue: The Others Mollie Blackburn, a literacy scholar who studies LGBTQ issues, says that the dichotomy of language (black/white, male/female, literate/illiterate) marginalizes many students whose profiles are more ambiguous than adults realize. In a country based on freedom of religious expression, Mormons, Muslims, and followers of other faiths still feel the bitter sting of discrimination. Finally, Gary Howard, author of We Can’t Teach What We Don’t Know: White Teachers, Multiracial Schools, tells us that, even as the United States becomes more and more racially and ethnically diverse, 90% of our teaching force is white. Acknowledging these realities is the first step toward transforming our classrooms as we begin the second decade of the 21st century. In what ways can reading, writing, and speaking foster meaningful discourse about differences? Can media and technology serve to overcome barriers and empower voices of oppressed students? How can the study of language and communication elevate issues of social justice? How do we create safe spaces in our classrooms for The Others?

Deadline: May 1, 2011.

Recurring Topics for Articles The theme is only one source of inspiration for contributors. Statement is also seeking articles that address a variety of topics, especially written by Colorado teachers, but also from writers who can speak with authority about current issues or best practices in ELA. Contributors may wish to consider: • • • • •

Teaching ideas Current issues Outstanding lesson plans Book reviews Expressive writing by Colorado teachers

• • • • •

Quick teaching tips Interviews Vignettes from the classroom Technology Reviews of professional research

Submission of Photos and Artwork We are always seeking original artwork or photos: classroom images, Colorado scenes, artistic representations, etc. We value contributions from youth and adults equally. We also enjoy featuring the work of professional Colorado artists. Please send images to the editor as a jpeg attachment. Student work must be accompanied by a “permission to publish” form signed by a parent.

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Guidelines for Contributors Formatting Issues and Submission Process Submissions to Statement should be in MLA style, using intext documentation with a list of works cited if needed. Documents should be single-spaced and formatted in Word. Charts, graphs, or illustrations should be sent as separate files. Manuscripts should adhere to the “Guidelines for Gender-Fair Use of Language” which can be found on the NCTE website at: http://www.ncte.org/ about/over/positions/category/lang/107647.htm.

Statement is a refereed journal, meaning that at least two outside reviewers will read each submission. Once the manuscript has been accepted, the editor may consult with the writer regarding revisions, and may share comments from the editorial board as an aid to revision. In light of deadlines, we reserve the right to make minor revisions or formatting decisions. Because we recognize that

many of our contributors are not professional writers but instead actual educators, we will collaborate with contributors to ensure that the article meets the personal standards of the writer as well as the high standards of our readership.

In the body of the email which contains the attachment of the manuscript, include the title of the piece, author’s name, author’s job title, affiliation or place of employment, city, state, email address, and website (if there is one). Also include a statement verifying that the manuscript has not been submitted or published anywhere else. Contributors will receive an email acknowledgement once the manuscript has been submitted.

Please direct all inquiries or submissions to the editor, Mike Wenk, at mjwenk@hotmail.com.

Editorial Information Statement Editorial Board Members Jessica Cuthbertson District Coach, Secondary Literacy Aurora Public Schools, Aurora

Julie Meiklejohn English Language Arts Teacher East Otero School District, La Junta

Katheryn Keyes Instructional Coach Adams 50, Denver

Vince Puzick K-12 Literacy Coordinator Colorado Springs School District #11

Shari VanderVelde Writing Consultant and Coach Mesa County Valley District 51, Grand Junction

Mark Overmeyer Elementary Literacy Coordinator Cherry Creek Schools, Denver

Editor-in-Chief Mike Wenk Ph.D Candidate, Literacy Studies The University of Colorado at Boulder mjwenk@hotmail.com

Layout Editor Position Open

Before the Bell Josh Curnett English Language Arts Teacher Eaglecrest High School jcurnett@cherrycreekschools.org

Becoming Better ELA Teachers Dr. Gloria Eastman Associate Professor of English & English Education Metropolitan State College of Denver geastman@mscd.edu

ELA in the 21st Century Phillipe Ernewein Dean of Faculty Training & Development Denver Academy www.rememberit.org

ESL in ELA Columnist Needed

YAL Update Dr. Marge Erickson Freeburn University of Colorado, Denver Marge.Erickson@ucdenver.edu

Poems, Poets, Poetry Jim Hobbs Eaglecrest High School jnu68cu81@yahoo.com

Elementary ELA Columnist Needed

Dr. Jill Adams Metropolitan State College, Denver jadams82@mscd.edu

Lary Kleeman Arapahoe High School lary_kleeman@msn.com

Statement, The Journal of the Colorado Language Arts Society, is published three times a year. ISSN: 1085-2549. The subscription price is included in the membership dues. Single copies are $10.00. To join, visit www.clastalk.ning.com.

Reproduction of material from this publication (excluding poetry, fiction, and creative non-fiction) is authorized if: a) reproduction is for educational purposes; b) copies are made available without charge beyond the cost of reproduction; and c) each copy includes full citation of the source and lists Statement as the original publisher. Address other requests for reprint permission to the editor.

Statement is a member of the NCTE Information Exchange Agreement.

The Colorado Language Arts Society opposes discrimination against any person and promotes equal opportunities for access to its activities and publications.

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Making a Statement: Words in Books about Words in School

by Mike Wenk, Editor

In her landmark ethnographic study, Shirley Brice Heath puts the clash of school and home cultures under a microscope in the Piedmont Carolinas of the 1970’s. The central question of her book, Ways with Words: Language, Life, and Work in Classrooms and Communities, is: “What were the effects of the preschool home and community environment on the learning of those language structures and uses which were needed in classrooms and job settings?” (4) At 426 pages, it’s not a page-turner like Dan Brown or any Oprah book, but Heath’s findings still need to be reckoned with, now as urgently as then.

Heath spent seven years immersing herself in two communities, studying the way that children learn and use language before they come to school. She notes that children in these communities “have different ways of communicating, because their communities have different social legacies and ways of behaving and face-to-face interactions” (11). She does not employ a deficit model when describing the nature of their language; instead, she demonstrates how the language children learn is effective within their respective communities, and she also describes aspects of their language usage that can be effective in any community.

The problem is that communication at home is different than at school, and students are expected to master two distinct forms of communication. She dispels the idea that parents must talk more with their kids: “more talk does not have a positive transfer value to the existing primary level practices of the school” (351). Instead, she says, it’s important to keep in mind that children from different backgrounds bring their language with them to school. For children whose families share the same kind of communication as the school, “it is the kind of talk, not the quantity of talk” that fosters a seamless transition from home life to school life (352). For children who do not experience “school talk” prior to beginning school, school language and customs “are far from natural and they seem strange indeed” (262).

Heath’s contention that disenfranchised students can learn as well as their more privileged peers contributed 4

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Michael Wenk is pursuing his Ph.D. in Literacy Studies at the University of Colorado, Boulder.

to the swirling controversy around desegregation at that time. Many students, many teachers, and many parents fled desegregated schools; for those who stayed, the challenge was to build bridges from home community to school community, something that had never been tried before.

Like the anthropologist that she was, Heath waded into the middle of the challenge and sought to help teachers in Piedmont communities understand the role of home culture, and to parlay home culture into an educational advantage.

Heath explains that the approach of the teachers she worked with was not a remedial one (355). Instead, using language and culture as a bridge for students to succeed in school, teachers created projects where students were able to “contrast the familiar, their own communities ways of speaking and ways of living, with the unfamiliar” (326). For example, students were asked to capture oral histories of community elders, and then to generate history reports that fused home language with academic research language. In addition, science projects were carried out in community farms and gardens. Students learned principles of science, through observation and experiment, as well as scientific language, which was applied to their study of farming techniques. In this way, students became translators of knowledge in their home domain to knowledge in their school domain. For these students, “what happened at home did not seem totally divorced from what happened at school as it had in some of the past education of students” (342).

Language and culture still present a major challenge for many of the students who sit in our classrooms today, over 30 years after Heath’s study. In the rush of the school day, we sometimes do not take the time to stop and appreciate that what may seem easy to us may puzzle any given student on any given day. We cannot make assumptions about what our students know as they enter our classrooms. School language and culture leave some of our students “to find their own schemata in the complex, multi-channeled stream of stimuli about them, for neither talk, time, nor space is set aside especially for them” (353). What we must assume is that some students, probably wearing their best poker face,

are in survival mode, trying to learn how to “speak school” and master content at the same time (double the work).

In Choice Words: How Our Language Affects Children’s Learning, Peter Johnston also tackles how teachers should attend to language in the classroom. He, too, notices the difficulties students face when navigating the distinct cultures of home and school: “It is especially easy for mainstream teachers not to notice how difficult it can be for students from a different culture to figure out how things are done here. Those of us in the mainstream are so used to not having to face such conflicts that we come to assume that everyone says and does things the way we do. Consequently, we don’t explicitly detail how we do things because one of the rules of conversation is that you don’t tell people what they already know (Grice 1975). Minority students often pay high price for this assumption” (7). The tricky part is in how we as educators approach classroom discourse. If we are always in the mode of telling, then we might feel like we are doing students a service by telling them what to do in a slower and simpler manner.

But this approach might cause students to suffer from what Paulo Freire called in Pedagogy of the Oppressed “narration sickness” (71). Instead of cultivating passivity, Freire recommended “problematizing” education, posing problems for students to figure out for themselves, with the guidance of the teacher, of course. “When you are told what to do,” writes Johnston, “particularly without asking, it feels different. Being told explicitly what to do and how to do it–over and over again–provides the foundation for a different set of feelings in a different story about what you can and can’t do, and who you are.The interpretation might be that you are the kind of person who cannot figure things out for yourself. This is doubtless one reason why recent research has shown that most accomplished teachers do not spend a lot of time in telling mode” (8).

In the ideal literacy classroom, teachers spend lots of time helping children build narratives about themselves.

Sure, students read stories and write various narratives, but what Johnston is saying is that the picture is bigger than any single reading or writing assignment. It’s about kids seeing themselves as writers, and acting like writers. It’s about kids who are passionate about reading and who can fix reading problems through the use of their own intellectual resources. For Johnston, what we say in a reading and writing classroom “creates realities and invites identities” (9).

Talk that is well-placed, strategically timed, and intentionally phrased can transform the lives of our students.With talk teachers “mediate children’s activity and experience, and help them make sense of learning, literacy, life, and themselves” (4). In Choice Words Johnston provides examples of teacher talk in literacy classrooms and explains

how the words of the teacher can shape student identity. In dealing with children, we recognize that what we say carries a message. But our words also carry “information about the speaker and how he or she views the listener and their assumed relationship” (6). Children in our classrooms “are not simply learning the skills of literacy. They’re developing personal and social identities–uniquenesses and affiliations that define the people they see themselves becoming” (22).

This might seem like self-esteem psychobabble that conservative commentators love to seize upon in their critique of education. But the same kind of empowerment felt by conservative commentators should be felt also by boys and girls growing into adulthood. How can students be empowered? It’s not by saying nice things to boost their self-esteem. Rather, it is letting students participate in meaningful discourse to solve problems and understand the world. This is why Johnston urges teachers to create dialogue with students that is revealing rather than telling.

For example, when a teacher asks a student who deciphers the pronunciation and meaning of a word in context, “How did you do that?” the light of that elegant question passes through many prisms. First, the teacher is valuing the cognitive process of the student, elevating the student into the pantheon of literate thinkers. In addition, the teacher is demonstrating a dialogic process that can be reproduced later when the student hits a trouble spot in a text. Finally, for the students who overhear the conversation, the student becomes an authority, and the teacher is able to relinquish the role of purveyor of all knowledge in the classroom.

Both Heath and Johnston make important claims for language in the classroom. Ultimately it boils down to listening intently to our students, capitalizing on their knowledge and abilities, and saying just the right thing at just the right time to help them reveal powerful identities as literate beings. Who says teaching is easy?

Works Cited Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York:

Continuum, 1993.

Heath, Shirley Brice. Ways with Words: Language, Life, and

Work in Communities and Classrooms.

Cambridge, England: Cambridge University

Press, 1983.

Johnston, Peter. Choice Words: How Our

Language Affects Children’s Learning.

Portland, ME: Stenhouse, 2004.

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ELA in the 21st Century:

Navigating the Digital Landscape

by Philippe Ernewein

Seeing students walk between classes with the accessory of a USB drive around their necks on lanyards last week made me feel like I was walking through a Ray Bradbury story. Are we teaching so much content and information that students now need external hard-drives to hold all the information?

Can experience and understanding be captured on a thumb drive? Are we swimming in so many content standards that it takes data storage devices to hold them all?

The teacher I observed was masterful, balancing the content of his subject with higher-ordered thinking skills at every opportunity. After the short lecture, the teacher facilitated a discussion that connected the new concepts directly to the lives of the students today. Prior to moving to independent practice, a student asked a very specific question about the time period that the teacher did not have an answer to.

The teacher replied, “Why don’t you Google that and let me know what you find.”

I cringed at the missed teachable moment. The opportunity to show not only the student asking the question, but the others in the room, that there is a better, more mindful and purposeful way to finding an answer than to immediately suggest Google.

Pause, think for a moment; then ask yourself a few questions that will refine your next step and ultimately refine the search results.

I know Google has become part of our everyday lexicon; it’s even included in the Merriam Webster dictionary. But to use it as a directive in the classroom for a student to learn more information about a specific topic is, I believe, not helpful.

Responding to a student with, ”Google that” is as broad and unfocused as telling a student, “Go read about that in an infinite encyclopedia of truths, lies, facts and fictions.” OK, now I’ll qualify that statement: 6

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Philippe Ernewein is the Dean of Faculty Training and Development at Denver Academy. He presents annually at a variety of educational conferences.

Philippe also writes a blog about education at www.rememberit.org.

go Google that might be dangerous and potentially counter-productive.

By choosing to use those few precious seconds in responding to a student’s unanswerable question with a few questions that will help the student move in a more reflective direction, we can start to model what critical thinking looks like for our students in the Google age. Although the billboard of Google is prominent in the digital landscape, it doesn’t mean we should blindly accept its results.

One of the ways we can collectively start to design a map to navigate this landscape of information is by formulating a script. This script can be as varied as our teaching styles, but will most likely always include a few questions that can frequently be asked to move students in the direction of pausing, reflecting and planning their next move in the digital landscape.

Many teachers won’t need an exact script; instead, they’ll automatically default to questions that involve analysis, synthesis and evaluation: What field would you have to be an expert in to answer that question?

What kind of bias might you encounter? How could you verify the accuracy of your results?

Other teachers may want more specific guidelines.

One of the most effective systems I’ve observed being used in elementary through high school classes is the mnemonic acronym created by Karen M. Christensson, called RADCAB: Relevancy, Appropriateness, Detail, Currency, Authority and Bias.

The changes in the way information is gathered and the manner in which research is conducted has occurred so quickly and in a such a relatively short amount of time that it has been difficult for us to pause and think about the implications of a suggestion like Google that in the context of our classrooms.

We Google and often we get our questions

answered quickly. But herein lies the danger: without teaching and modeling evaluative and reflective strategies for how our students should research and seek answers to their questions, they will frequently accept the first three search returns as truth.

I do not mean to suggest that teachers should be the gatekeepers of information. On the contrary, our roles need to be transformed. We will be asked questions that we do not know the answer to; hopefully, our own curiosity will remain nourished and we will want to continue to learn and explore. Let’s have specific tools in place that help facilitate critical thinking, collaboration and reflection.

With the increased and seemingly unfettered access to information and potential conversations and interactions with others around the world that the new digital landscape offers, comes the need for new mindsets and training about learning and teaching. We must be fearless in this digital landscape and we must also be well equipped with the proper tools. The tools we teach, model and practice are as critical as a map and compass in a new city. Without those tools, we’ll experience a new place, perhaps see a few landmarks and stumble upon a museum.

While exploration and spontaneity is a critical part of learning, with the help of a map, we can maximize our exploration and learning. We can visit museums, treasures off the beaten path and still see the landmarks. And still have time to write in our journals and reflect on the experience.

A Note from Philippe: TEDxEducators, an independently organized TED Event, will take place February 22, 2011 from 5:30 – 8:30 pm; this event is free. More information at www.rememberit.org.

Works Cited Christensson, Karen. “RADCAB – Your Vehicle for Information Evaluation.” www.radcab.com. Web. 15 Oct. 2010.

Donna Miller Colorado Writing Project July 15, 2010

Poetry Re-doux I pause for a moment before putting pen to paper, and ponder why I’ve been so long away from you, oh precious companion of my soul.

Perhaps I’ve grown too cynical and can no longer express myself in fragile phrases and lovely words with soft edges.

Maybe I’ve lost the gift of speaking in symbolic, satin sentences that leave the listener lingering in wonder.

It could be that the poetry muse has abandoned me, in search of someone more passionately poetic.

Or I may simply be immersed in the heaviness of prose, unable to soar above the density of my words.

Whatever the reasons, I now find myself longing to return to your elegance, to spin a fleece of secrets from my heart.

Donna Miller currently serves as the middle school Teacher-Librarian at West Middle School in Grand Junction. She is a published author, consultant and presenter, and past editor for Linworth Publishing, Inc. Donna has been an educator for over 25 years, and throughout that time, writing has always been one of her passions. Her email address is donnapmiller@ yahoo.com.

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23rd Annual

Colorado Teen Literature Conference

Saturday, April 2, 2011

On the Auraria Campus (at the Tivoli) in Downtown Denver Morning Keynote Speaker: Rachel Vail, author of Brilliant, Gorgeous, Lucky, and You, Maybe: The Profound Asymmetry of Love in High School Luncheon Keynote Speaker: Pete Hautman, author of All-in, Rash, National Book Award Winner Godless, and Sweetblood Early Registration: February 1 - March 25, 2011 Adults $50.00 Students $25.00 Onsite Registration (if space available) Adults $65.00 Students $35.00 Visit www.coteenlitconf.org to register online, or to print a mail-in registration form. Application forms for the CLAS-Bellin or REFORMA student grants available online February 1, 2011. For program details, information about graduate credit through UCD Office of Continuing and Professional Studies, and book bag pre-sales, visit www. coteenlitconf.org.

Sponsored by Metropolitan State College at Denver, University of Colorado Denver-SEHD: Division of Language, Literacy and Culturally Responsive Teaching, Colorado Language Arts Society, FleetThought.com, Colorado REFORMA, Colorado Young Adult Advocates in Libraries, and the Pikes Peak Library District.

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YA Literature:

Keeping Words from Kids

by Dr. Jill Adams

Choice words are not always perceived as being a good thing. Sometimes, “choice” words are not deemed as being appropriate for teenagers, especially in the field of young adult literature. In 2009, 460 challenges were recorded by the Office of Intellectual Freedom, which has been recording book, periodical, play, and other media challenges since 1967. These books are banned for a myriad of reasons, including language, content, and age appropriateness. The Top 10 Book Challenges for 2009 are the following: 1. ttyl; ttfn; l8r, g8r (series), by Lauren Myracle 2. And Tango Makes Three, by Peter Parnell and Justin Richardson 3. The Perks of Being a Wallflower, by Stephen Chbosky 4. To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee 5. Twilight (series) by Stephenie Meyer 6. The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger 7. My Sister’s Keeper, by Jodi Picoult 8. The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big, Round Things, by Carolyn Mackler 9. The Color Purple, by Alice Walker 10. The Chocolate War, by Robert Cormier (Office for Intellectual Freedom web site)

Half of these titles were written with the young adult in mind. It is worth our time and effort to acquaint ourselves with some of these titles, like the classics The Color Purple, Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mockingbird, or contemporary novels And Tango Makes Three and My Sister’s Keeper, to see why they might be banned. As with any book that is read by teenagers, there must be a powerful reason for the teen to finish the reading and contemplate the text.

While these controversial novels may contain some choice words or other controversial aspects, they may also possess powerful and/or insightful messages or simply contain some magical element that captures the imagination and heart of a teenager.

10. The Chocolate War, Robert Cormier Reasons for challenges: nudity, offensive language, sexually explicit, unsuited to age group

Dr. Jill Adams is an Assistant Professor of English at Metropolitan State College of Denver. She teaches courses in composition, young adult literature, and teaching composition.

One of the first classic young adult literature novels still maintains its status as one of the most banned books.

Meet Jerry Renault (if you haven’t already) and follow his journey through Trinity High School as he challenges the school gang, the Vigils. Jerry initially joins the Vigils, taking part in their demonstrations of power in the school. (One instance has the gang unscrewing all of the desks and chairs in a classroom, therefore screwing Brother Leon and the administration/faculty at the school). Then, Jerry decides to go against the tide and stand up to the Vigils. Should Jerry have dared disturb the universe? After the shocking and bloody battle at the end of the book, he tells his only friend, The Goober that no – it was not worth it.

According to the Office of Intellectual Freedom, the challenges for this book include nudity, offensive language, and masturbation…there may be a deeper, darker reason, however. Many young adult literature novels have some aspect of hope towards the end of the novel. This book is not one of them. Jerry is physically and emotionally beaten down at the end of the book. (This actually isn’t giving the ending of the book away, for the first lines of the novel, “They murdered him” foreshadow what is to come.)

Is this message too depressing for teens? Possibly, but there is a heavy dose of reality in this book that will make a strong impact on the reader. Whether or not they “like” the novel is irrelevant, for this is a book the teenager won’t forget. Dr. John H. Bushman, Professor Emeritus at the University of Kansas and young adult literature expert, noted the following: Robert Cormier’s literature lives forever -- it has become a classic of young adult literature. Cormier moves beyond the inevitable difficulties of maturation to a much broader, deeper level and, in doing so, pushes the envelope further than it has been pushed before. It is the survival of freedom and individual human rights that captures the young adult reader and never lets him/her go.

In The Chocolate War readers feel the struggle between two forces: the individual and dehuman-

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izing institutions. Robert Cormier is a gentle giant among authors of young adult literature.

8. The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big, Round Things, Carolyn Mackler Reasons for challenges: offensive language, sexually explicit, unsuited to age group

This Printz Honor Book was first published in 1999 and has maintained a presence in the field of young adult literature since. The title gives the reader a sense of what’s coming their way. It’s book that tackles some tough topics (sex, being overweight, rape, parental expectations) with a bit of insight and humor. The protagonist Virginia feels that she’s a misfit in a family of superstars. As she deals with her supposed imperfections, the reader learns that not all of her family members are as perfect as they initially appear.

Mackler, who has four other published young adult novels, addresses the censorship of her book on her website: I wrote a book about a plus-sized girl who learns to feel happy in her skin without having to lose weight or do damaging things to her body. Ever since this book’s publication, I’ve received hundreds of letters from teen girls telling me that The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things has helped them feel good about themselves, be more confident, and stand up to people who treat them badly. With a message like that, who would want to keep this book from teen girls? I find book-banning very frustrating because, even if a parent decides a book is not right for their child, they should not be allowed to keep it from every other teenager in town.

Knowing that so many teenage girls struggle with their body image and feeling of self worth, this book is an important read, and many teenage girls feel this way too.

5. Twilight series, Stephenie Meyer Reasons for challenges: religious viewpoint, sexually explicit, unsuited to age group

OK…you have all heard about this one, read the novels, or seen the movies. This is the love story of Bella and Edward. These destined lovers fight for true love, even though their respective worlds try to drive them apart. Obviously, their tale of love and woe is similar to other classic love stories and isn’t more risqué than Romeo and Juliet.

I question what is wrong with teens reading these books for pleasure. Could it be that girls will unrealistically hope that their own Edward will come and complete their 10

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life? Could it be that the vampires and werewolves are not appropriate for teens? Is it dangerous for teens to desire giving up their entire lives for another?

I firmly believe there is a book for every teen that will aid them in becoming a lifelong reader. It is important to have a nation of readers because, according to Teri Lesesne in her book Naked Reading: Uncovering What Teens Need to Become Lifelong Readers, “lifetime readers, those who read not because they are forced to but because they still want to, are also lifetime learners. If we lose a generation of readers, we also lose a generation of learners” (2).

These books have made many teens readers.

Numerous blogs, books groups, and YouTube videos with teens sharing their thoughts and opinions on the series have been created. There is also much criticism about these texts, including questions about the questionable content and quality of writing. However, the yeas easily outweigh the nays in this instance, and the popularity of the series is continuing through the films based on the books. Many parents and educators hope that reading these books will propel teens into other reading material, possibly lasting into their own twilight.

3. The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Stephen Chbosky Reasons for challenges: anti-family, drugs, homosexuality, offensive language, religious viewpoint, sexually explicit, suicide, unsuited to age group

The Perks of Being a Wallflower has been around for over a decade. This is Chobsky’s only novel, but he has written screenplays for the film Rent and for the television series Jericho. According to IMDb, a film version of Perks is in pre-production and will be released in 2011.

This is a book teenagers pass around to each other, and English teachers and librarians frequently sometimes have difficulty keeping copies in their possession. Charlie, the protagonist, is a freshman in high school who observes many things: I walk around the school hallways and look at the people. I look at the teachers and wonder why they’re here. If they like their jobs. Or us. And I wonder how smart they were when they were fifteen. Not in a mean way. In a curious way. It’s like looking at all the students and wondering who’s had their heart broken that day, and how they are able to cope with having three quizzes

and a book report due on top of that. Or wondering who did the heart breaking. And wondering why (Chobsky 142).

As Charlie connects with friends Samantha and Patrick, along with a teacher who offers book titles for Charlie to read and reflect upon, we see him attempt to participate in life and strive to feel and be infinite. Yes, there are drugs, sex, and other heavy topics. But what is also present is a beautifully written novel with powerful themes. I am not sure if there are perks to being a wallflower, but you won’t know until you engage with the text and read it for yourself.

1. ttyl; ttfn; l8r, g8r (series), Lauren Myracle Reasons for challenges: drugs, nudity, offensive language, sexually explicit, unsuited to age group

Myracle has been publishing young adult books since 2003. Since that time, she has published over 15 novels, including The New York Times bestselling Internet Girl series, ttyl, ttfn, and l8r, g8r. These books are the first novels to be written entirely in Instant Messaging language. (Her book Luv Ya Bunches was in the headlines recently when Scholastic temporarily banned the book from their fairs due to parent complaints about a main character having homosexual parents.)

Amidst these controversies, Myracle has also received numerous honors, including the American Library Associate (ALA) Best Book for Young Adults (2004) and Booklist’s Top Ten Youth Romances (2004). The TTYL (or Internet Girls) series is arguably her most well known work.

Tech-savvy teens have found a connection with the three protagonists (SnowAngel, zoegirl, and mad maddie) as they maneuver their way through their high school lives. Although adults may find reading the books difficult, it is important to realize that these books were not written for the adult audience. Instead, the series aimed at connecting tuned-in teens to printed literature. And—based on the number of books sold—these books have managed to do just that. Even though Instant Messaging may not be as popular as texting, it still seems that tween and teens are reading these books (and some undeniably desire a texting novel that could be an app on their phone in the near future).

Because of the controversies some of her books have created, Myracle has become a part of numerous censorship discussions across the nation and an advocate for open dialogue on the topic without polarizing the discussion by viewing opposing viewpoints as “us” or “them.” Myracle clearly realizes the power in connecting every teen to a book. As she noted, “As I see it, that’s a book’s gift to the

world as well, and just as every song won’t do it for every listener, every book won’t do it for every reader. Sure. Fine.

But as long as we don’t limit our options, every reader can find a book that sings to her” (“Lauren Myracle”).

These five young adult novels are vastly different in content and aim. They are united because they happen to be on the 2009 Most Banned Books List. Like the other novels on the list, these books have much more to them than being considered controversial. The value in each is as diverse as the topics they cover. Whether they books cover a typical teen problem or a classic literary theme, they all provide a connection to literature through their carefully chosen—and sometimes choice—words.

Works Consulted Bushman, John H. E-mail Interview. 19 Oct. 2010.

“Carolyn Mackler.” Authors on the Web. n.d. 21 Oct. 2010.

Chobsky, Stephen. Perks of Being a Wallflower. New York:

MTV, 1999.

Cormier, Robert. The Chocolate War 30th Anniversary

Edition. New York: Knopf, 2004.

“Lauren Myracle.” n.d. 21 Oct. 2010.

Lesesne, Teri. Naked Reading: Uncovering What Teens Need

to Become Lifelong Readers. Maine: Stenhouse,

2006.

Mackler, Carolyn. The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round

Things. New York: Candlewick, 2005.

Meyer, Stephenie. Twilight. New York: Little, Brown, 2008.

Myracle, Lauren. TTYL. New York: Harry Abrams, 2005.

-----. L8r, G8r. New York: Amulet, 2008.

-----. TTFN. New York: Amulet, 2007.

Office for Intellectual Freedom. “Top ten most frequently

challenged books of 2009.” American Library

Association. n.d. 18 Oct. 2010.

“Perks of Being a Wallflower.” IMBd: The Internet Movie

Database. IMBd.com, Inc. 21 Oct. 2010.

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Lizard Language

The Awful Consequences of “Awfulizing” in Our Internal and External Dialogue

By Dr. Leslie Miller

Since philosophy is very much about language and concepts, I teach my students many things about words and language, but perhaps the most important is how the language we use doesn’t only communicate messages to others (as we are commonly taught), but also to ourselves—messages that we don’t consciously hear, but which nevertheless affect us in often quite maladaptive ways. I will briefly explain here four of the thousands of ways this situation arises, as well as provide the basis for keeping it from happening. First things first, however: there are some physiological matters on which we should become clear before proceeding to an examination of how we can talk to ourselves (without realizing we are), get the message (without being aware of it), and then act on that message (all while believing we are just responding to the world).

Lizard Brains

We human beings have been around for a very, very long time. On our long evolutionary path, our brain developed its parts at different times. One simple brain model divides the organ into three parts: the amygdala, the limbic system, and the neo-cortex.

The oldest part of our brain, the amygdala, lies right atop our brainstem. This little mass of neurons performs important functions, such as running our autonomic nervous system (breathing, heart rate, etc.) and talking to another, later brain system, the limbic system. The limbic system is a doughnut-shaped set of neural structures sitting over the amygdala. This complex acts often as the “switchboard” for the brain and body, sending and receiving messages for hormonal regulation. On top of this system lies the neo-cortex, the most recently developed portion of our brains.

The neo-cortex is the outer visible layer of the brain and is what we typically think of when we imagine what a brain looks like.

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Leslie C. Miller is an Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Mesa State College and a certified Philosophical Practitioner. He thrives on helping others learn to flourish and live consciously through mindfulness and lizard brain taming.

As the evolutionarily youngest part of our brain, the neo-cortex contains those parts of our brains which perform all of the “rational” functions: facial recognition, invocation of emotional signals from the limbic system via the amygdala, language use, thought, reason, humor, and so on. The brain’s system viewed this way is fairly simple. The amygdala runs the automatic systems, the neo-cortex runs the conscious and rational functions, and the limbic system regulates, transfers messages, and coordinates things between the amygdala and the neo-cortex.

My focus here is the amygdala, often called the reptile or lizard brain, from the belief that the other layers of the brain are specifically mammalian (which may not be quite correct). Lizards have only a lizard brain; chickens have only a lizard brain; humans have a lizard brain underneath our “rational” brain. As the part of our brains that is the most primitive, it isn’t surprising that the amygdala is in charge of the most primal of our drives: getting food, protecting our territory, fighting, fleeing, procreating, and so on. The lizard brain tries to keep us alive and safe, and it does a very good job at that—so good that we are, quite often, under the sway of its commands with little or no awareness of it.

It used to be that our lizard brain was needed to keep us alive when the saber-toothed tigers were hunting us; now, however, we rarely find ourselves in life-or-death situations—but when we do, it kicks in, as it is supposed to. The lizard brain isn’t lazy: it loves to work, and today works just as hard as it ever has.

The problem, as you may have guessed, is that it so loves to work that it jumps right into the center of the action in many cases where it isn’t needed. That’s fine by it, though, as part of its function is to make you believe that it is needed. Thus, we find ourselves in situations that are not in any way life-threatening, yet manage to histrionically embellish facts until we

believe that the world is going to end and everyone will die, or at the very least, we convince ourselves this state of affairs will cause our lives to be irreparably harmed and result in our welfare and happiness becoming thoroughly and irrevocably damaged.

Examples of such situations are easy to come by: we have a report to finish for our boss, and it is due in an hour, yet we aren’t finished; the bank called and a check bounced; our daughter is not home, and it is past her curfew; we lost our job, the car is making a funny noise, and money is tight. The list is literally endless since the lizard brain knows many ways of making simple non-threatening situations seem very dire, indeed.

Just how is it that the lizard brain is able to turn a late-returning child into a dead, mangled body in the Emergency Room, or the loss of a job into absolute homelessness for all eternity? Well, technically, it doesn’t do this at all. Instead, we do it. We get the lizard brain rolling this way by speaking to it and telling it that we need help, that things are bad, so terribly, awfully bad. For example, we might make a mistake, and that would be dreadful; then we would need our lizard brain to get us out of the mess. The problem becomes compounded as the lizard brain learns and begins to anticipate when it is needed. becomes compounded as the lizard brain learns and begins to anticipate when it is needed.

Mistakes

One assignment I give to students is to go out and make mistakes. Invariably they return to class saying things like, “I couldn’t make a mistake!” or “One can’t make a mistake on purpose.” Or even “I don’t know what a mistake is anymore!” Those responses are just as I expect to receive. Our lizard brain has duped us. We cannot make mistakes at all— there is no such thing. Think about it: what would a mistake be? Typically, we think of mistakes as things that we regret, things we have done unintentionally, or even simply unanticipated consequences we wish hadn’t happened. We cannot intend to make a mistake. Certainly, we can give wrong answers, such as “2 + 2 = shovel,” but that doesn’t quite get at what we mean by a “mistake.” Mistakes are only discovered to be mistakes after the fact. New information comes to light that shows us that a different answer or response was more appropriate, or that we were simply wrong about what we believed to be the case.

We can’t do that intentionally. All we can do is to do

our best, but then that is how humans always work: we do what we believe is best at the time, given the information we have and the way we prioritize that information.

When we have done something that turns out to be incorrect or has unintended and unwanted consequences, we look back and wish we had done differently. And then we start thinking: Things are horrible now . . . if only . . . if only I had done it differently . . . oh, this is so bad . . . what am I going to do? I can’t believe it! How could I have been so stupid? I always do this. Why can’t I do anything right?

When we self-talk in this way, we think we are alone in our heads—no one else is listening in.

That, however, is not the case. Our lizard brains hear it all. That little lizard brain is also “thinking” about everything we think: Well, this doesn’t look good.

Looks like a situation to be avoided in the future. My owner is feeling very sad and afraid and angry and even mortified. The horror! People are looking at her like she is a freak! OMG! If they keep doing that, she will die!!! We must prevent this from ever happening again . . . think . . . think . . . how can we ensure this doesn’t happen again . . . I know! If we never risk anything again, we can never lose! That’s it!

At this point the lizard brain has a plan. It is a simple plan, one that will prevent such horrible things like this near-death experience from recurring. When we begin to anticipate doing something, our lizard brains tap in and start planting the seeds that keep us from doing that which we are contemplating: “What if I make a mistake in my interview? They will not hire me, and even think I am silly. They might call around to all their friends and joke about me . . . and those friends would be the other people with whom I am interviewing. Yes. Better not to go to the interview at all. No interview means no botched interview.

There, now I feel better. I have fended off this potential horrible mistake. Whew!”

The thing is, the lizard brain just wants us to be safe.

If we do nothing at all, we do nothing dangerous, we make no mistakes. Much better not to do than to do and fail—which is why we have invented another boogey-man to help us, a simple word we all know: “difficult.”

Difficult

As we all know, many things in life are hard.

Difficulties surround us everywhere we turn. It is hard to get up in the morning, so we need alarm Statement Vol. 47, No. 1

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clocks. It is difficult to shake the cobwebs of sleep out of our heads, so we take showers and drink coffee. We need help with everything because everything is so hard.

I ask my students to spend a week being aware of when they and others use the word “difficult” or any synonyms like “hard” or “challenging.”

I have them remove the word from their vocabulary and require them to specify exactly what it is they mean when they want to use one of these words.

The responses that come back are always the same: “There is no such thing as ‘difficult’ ” and “I never realized it before, but that word (‘difficult’) doesn’t mean anything at all—it is like shorthand for other things.”

Let us see if we can unpack its meaning. Take the word “hard.” What does it mean? Dictionaries don’t really help; look it up and what you will find is a list of synonyms beginning with “difficult.” If we travel down a few definitions, we finally come to the one with the meat: “solid.” Now that we can understand.

Something solid resists the pressure of our fingers.

Resistance, that’s the key. I direct students to this meaning, that of resistance; they understand resistance: fear, dread, lethargy, being unmotivated, and so on. They also get that they provide the resistance.

Rather, they feed the lizard brain, and it is then the lizard brain that provides resistance.

Think about the last time you thought something difficult. What was difficult about it? Are you sure you didn’t mean “impossible”? Alright, then . . . what was so “difficult”? Oh, I see—you just didn’t want to do it! In other words, you had some psychological resistance to doing it. Suppose the task was to give a public speech. What is difficult about that?

Were you asked to speak on something about which you know nothing? Probably not—you wouldn’t have been asked to speak had you not been qualified to speak on that subject. So what was so difficult about it? You are a mute with no tongue and are unable to form words? Probably not that, either. Hmmmm.

Maybe the difficulty was that they required you to speak in a foreign language you didn’t know. That might make it impossible, but I don’t think it would be hard. As Yoda says, “There is only do or not do.” If you can do it, it is possible; if you cannot, then it is, at that time, impossible. But what of this difficulty?

What is really difficult about giving a public speech? Do they take away your language processing 14

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abilities beforehand? Make you run a four-minute mile first? Force you to climb Mt. Everest? Not hardly. We find such things “difficult” because we don’t want to do them, are afraid of them, are confused about some aspect of the task, or believe they will take more time and effort than we believe they are worth. Nothing is “difficult.” The word truly has no meaning other than the excuses we provide to try to get out of—or at least protest—doing something.

“Difficult” is a word we use to tell ourselves (and others) that something is big, bad, and scary— something to be avoided or dreaded when anticipated, and then suffered through if unavoidable. In this way we can excuse ourselves from the task, or provide advance justification for failing at it. We attempt to find solace while we ease our disappointment and inure ourselves against this future failure. The psychological damage we do to ourselves, however, with this word is even worse than simply being an excuse.

Use of such words as “difficult” or “hard” justifies and even enhances our unpleasant feelings about things— thus giving us even more reason to avoid them, or minimize the energy and care we invest in such tasks generally resulting in poor execution. Since emotions die if not fed and kept alive, by making things “difficult,” we also work at making our emotional lives ones of darkness, despair, and resentment. If that is the case, though, don’t we need to change it?

Needs vs. Wants

When I ask my students to distinguish between their wants and their needs, they often are unable to do so clearly. What is a need? What is a want?

On the one hand, students quickly point out that needs are, for them, necessities for life: air, food, water, shelter, clothing. At this point a smart aleck usually mentions sex, but that gets voted down as necessary for the continuance of the species, though not necessary for the continued existence of any individual.

Students typically view “need” as bound up with necessity in the above way, yet, once a student has said the above, another makes a comment along the lines of “I may not need love, but I want it—and if I don’t have it, I won’t want to live.” This, in turn, causes yet another student to say, “Yeah, well, you don’t need to live, either; I could do fine without you!” Such comments point out that there is no such thing as absolute necessity. Even the “laws” of nature are but what we believe to be the case, not what must be. All human needs are mere wants.

With this understanding, we can see that “needs” are just “wants” to which we are attached.

This is the lizard brain’s primary directive and main function: to ensure that we can fulfill our “needs.”

As soon as we start declaring normal wants to be needs by thinking things such as “I need love,” “I need money,” “I need my job,” or “I need to pass this test,” the lizard brain sees these things as needs and not just wants. Once these “needs” are threatened or in danger of not being satisfied, the lizard brain engages full force, sending out hormonal signals that put our bodies into a heightened state of alert and anxiety—which, in turn, goads us to think more and more about the absolute necessity of satisfying those “needs” and how utterly horrible and unbearable and just awful it would be were those “needs” not to be met.

Awfulizing

And so we come to the pinnacle of lizard brain feeding. Our thoughts themselves are food for the lizard brain. As we have seen, the lizard brain is devious; it tricks us into feeding it, even when it is not in our best interest. It wants to protect us, and believes what we tell it. The problem is that we often lie to ourselves, and it overhears. We once lived in a world full of dangers—great life-threatening dangers.

The lizard brain still lives in that world; we do not, except in the language we use. “Language is the house of Being,” Heidegger wrote in his “Letter on ‘Humanism’.” What we think is. It is for us because the lizard brain is incapable of detecting lies or subtleties. When we think, “Oh my God! I am so mortified; I am going to die!” the lizard brain rushes into action, believing that we literally are going to die.

We know that our needs are really wants, and that we cannot actually make mistakes—and thus cannot make things more difficult for ourselves.Yet, our lizard brain loves to be of service to us and so goads us into feeding it. We do this by awfulizing things to ourselves. If we were to find our job at risk, for example, we might turn that simple opportunity for a good change of fortune and potential career enhancement into some life-threatening horrible circumstance— one which will cause us intense suffering and most certainly some awful and agonizing death.

ing a job isn’t the end of the world, that getting a “C” on an exam doesn’t necessarily lead to starvation and horrifying torture, that being unable to just write a check for the rent doesn’t mean that in two days we will be alone on the streets with nowhere to turn.

But the lizard brain wants us to think that it does.

We help the lizard brain convince us that it does by using the excessive and distorted language of awfulizing: “Oh, how horrible! This is such a tragedy!” There are many such cases in which we awfulize to such a degree that we actually make things much worse for ourselves. We don’t like to think that we are exaggerating the horribleness of things when we say or think, “Oh, I would just die if he knew that!” and yet, remember, our lizard brain cannot tell the difference between truth and lie, between exaggeration and reality: it is not so subtle or sophisticated as our neocortex.

We do have the ability to outwit the lizard brain with our neo-cortex; it is just that it likes to try to trick us into thinking that we don’t. If it can get us not to think, but just react immediately, thoughtlessly, then we will. Our culture loves vague terms—but our lizard brain doesn’t; instead, it fixes meanings quickly.

We think vague things like, “Oh, how horrible!” and it fixes a meaning to the utterance along the lines of “I am going to die! This is unbearable! Something drastic must be done now! There is something in my way that is a threat and so must be eliminated!”

These dire pronouncements trigger physiological and emotional responses that can quite quickly turn an ordinary occurrence into a true crisis.

So what do we do about this? The solution is simple: we clarify our thoughts, become precise in our statements, and most importantly, become aware of how we talk to ourselves. Exaggeration, lies, and vagueness in our speech to ourselves and to others is heard also by the lizard brain—and not just our own, but the lizard brains of those with whom we speak.

If we wish to regain control of our lives, we must be careful with the language we use, both verbal and mental. Language may have a life of its own, but it also feeds the lizard in all of us.

The Solution

We know, in our moments of clarity, that los

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The View:

Four Perspectives in a Life

by Patty Besch

Perspective #1 Growing up, there was an amazing view of the Ohio River from the second floor windows of my high school, perched on a hilltop in southern Indiana. The fertile farmland hugged the river’s curves as it wound its way south forming the border of the state. During floods in the spring, the river swallowed all visible land on the Kentucky side, creating a giant, endless sea of muddy, turbulent water that stretched for miles. By summer the land had returned and, along with it, the sweeping panorama of lush, green cornfields. The rich bottomland was renewed with the promise of hope and a bountiful harvest.

Perspective #2 “Let Samantha out!” The thought interrupted the monotony of the dreary, drizzly March afternoon.

My neighbor had asked me to let her large German shepherd outside at about 1:30, so I grabbed a jacket and headed next door. The key turned easily in the lock as Samantha’s anticipated bark sounded on the other side of the wooden door. I wouldn‘t need the leash since she loved racing around the backyard with my Labrador, Shane, and usually swept past me when I opened the door, bounding to our house.

Her response on that afternoon was not at all what I expected—no bouncing, two-legged, yipping as she surged past me. It was a pitiful whine punctuated with licks on my hand and a reluctance to move beyond the entryway. It was a distressed prancing, hesitant jumping, and grasping at my hand with her mouth. It was my sense that she was pulling me into the darkened house. Then I saw the bloody paw prints.

I switched the hall light on and lifted her paws, care16

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Patty Besch teaches 7th grade Language Arts at Arvada K-8 in the Jefferson County Public Schools.

fully examining each for a cut or wound of some kind, but there was none. It seemed strange that all curtains and blinds in the house were closed in the middle of the day. Slowly, I walked to the kitchen and searched the wall in the dim light for the switch. The fixture over the table came on, throwing light onto a piece of paper unevenly torn from a notebook. “I hope you can forgive me for this”. . . was all I could manage to read before a sickening weakness overcame me, along with a sense that my legs were going to buckle.

Now I could see the smeared blood on the floor and a trail that led to the entryway hall and up the stairs to the second floor. Even more agitated now, Samantha unceasingly whined, whimpered, and intermittently barked. I had to find Lissa, and yet, was frozen in place. Finally, I haltingly moved toward the stairs, grabbing the banister, gripping it, steadying myself.

At the top, darkness again with each door closed.

I stepped carefully; reaching her bedroom door, I slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Nothing amiss, but as I stepped back to the hall, I could see the bloody trail leading into the bathroom from the stairs.

How long did I stand in front of that bathroom door?

My mind was racing, my heart pounding as I fought the impulse to run—run from the nightmare, run from the fear and horror, run from what I knew I was going to find. Samantha’s frantic barking and scratching the door snapped me to the moment; I grasped the nob and turned it. . .

“Oh my God, my God she’s dead! God, God what have you done?” I staggered backward, unable to process what I was seeing. But then, her eyes flickered, her lips barely parted, and she rasped, “I . .

f***ed. . .this. . . up. . .too . . .”

Grabbing the butcher knife lying near her, I raced down to the telephone in the kitchen, dropping the knife on the table. Hands shaking violently, I reached for the phone and tried to dial 911. My brain didn’t seem connected to my hands. On the second try, I managed to hit the right numbers.

Sirens. How many? How long ago did I call? I suddenly felt numb, detached, disconnected. Samantha was close to me, and I reached down, took her by the collar, and lead her to the back yard. “She’ll go crazy with all the people,” I thought.

Police, EMTs, a guerney. “She’s in the upstairs bathroom right at the top of the stairs.”

I backed into a corner of the kitchen, watching.

“Could you answer some questions?”

“Yes, I moved the knife. . . I didn’t want anything else to happen. . . her husband is at work, and her son is in the Navy. . . no, I didn’t touch or move the note. . .

I’m sorry about the knife. . . I was just afraid to leave it. . . I have a key to her house. . . she asked me to come over at 1:30 to let her dog out. . . I put her in the backyard when I heard the sirens.”

her husband to. . . it didn’t feel honest to forgive her at the time, but I did say the words because I felt she needed me to. . but the forgiveness did come. . . you know, therapy saved me . . . but, really, it all derailed my marriage. . yes, it’s a memory now. . like a movie, not my life. . . . but twenty years bring perspective. . .”

Perspective #4 “Grandma, look at this!” Ian squealed with delight.

I knelt down to see a rolly-poly bug tightly curled, lying under a rock he had lifted. “It’s hungry,” he declared, sprinkling a few blades of grass near it and gently replacing the rock.

Nina busied herself picking Johnny-jump-ups (she loves purple!). Clasped in her tiny hands, she proudly thrust them out to me. “For you!” In one movement, I swept her up for a giant hug. Like the river and the land, lives cycle through turmoil, loss, renewal, and hope.

The next months blurred together. At first I was surprised at how calm I was, rational and unaffected by it all. But that was short-lived. I soon descended into a personal hell. I couldn’t touch or hold a knife to cook.

I had trouble sleeping and being alone. I cried a lot. I struggled to care for my three young children. My life began unraveling. I could no longer keep those other memories of suicide away. I had denied them, buried them, banished them to a place where they could not touch me.

Perspective #3 “Can you talk about it now?” The question was quietly asked, with no expectation of an answer.

“Well, yes, she lived. . . thirty minutes later and she’d have bled to death . . . no, she was hospitalized for months after her physical condition stabilized . . . in a mental facility. . . it was hard eventually facing her again. . . but I did and she asked me to forgive her for setting me up to find her. . . she didn’t want

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A Community of Writers: Discourse in a Third Grade Classroom

By Lori Schultz

Lori Schultz teaches 3rd grade at Appleton Elementary in Grand Junction, Colorado. She enjoys hiking with her children and writing with her students as much as she can. Her email address is lori.schultz@d51schools.org.

Narrative: “I Need Some Help Here” “I have an idea for your ending.”

“I need some help here. Do you think you can take a break from your writing to help me with mine?” Where do you hear those words? Maybe a professional workshop group? An AP English class?

No. That’s me talking to my class of 3rd grade writers. And what I am really saying is, “Your ideas are as important as mine. I need you as a fellow writer to help me make my writing better.”

Last year I brought in a piece of my writing to Writer’s Workshop to model how writers get help from other writers. I shared a story about a day I spent at the museum with my daughter. Actually, I wrote about a small moment from that day, and I hoped that if nothing else, we could have some great discussion about that alone. “Do you see how I only wrote about a few minutes in front of one painting?

Might that be better than writing about the whole entire day? (Andrew, maybe you could write about one small moment from your trip to California instead of the entire three weeks.) I wasn’t sure how it would go… but I put my writing out there and they listened, and they thought, and they asked questions.

“It’s a good lead like it is.”

“Yeah, don’t describe too much, just get to the funny part.”

“I like that you put in what you were thinking. I could tell that you were freaking out, but you didn’t say, ‘I’m freaking out right now.’ ” “Maybe you could write what Kathryn says when you tell her not to touch the painting instead of just having her roll her eyes.”

“Mrs. Schultz, I think you should describe the art better. You should paint a picture with your writing.”

I jotted down their ideas and suggestions and then I thanked them. They made me promise to share again after I made changes.

“I love the part where you see Kathryn out of the corner of your eye. I could totally see her reaching out to touch the painting.”

I put my piece aside to listen to them as they went back to work. The room hummed and buzzed.

A new current of energy curled around them and through their writing. Those 3rd graders felt it and soaked it in. They were full of the understanding that they were writers, real writers who had valuable

“I like how you imagine the guards going, “NNOOOO.” 18

Suddenly I was a writer standing in front of a room full of writers. Really. We were writers. I had no hidden teaching agenda as I asked, “How does the lead sound? Do I need to take away some of that set up? As a reader do you care why we went to the art museum? Do you want to know more about what I was thinking as I imagined Kathryn touching the Renoir?”

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information to share with each other. Kirsten told Katie that she had described the horse in her first paragraph really well, and Kaden and Cooper laughed about Mac’s bus stop story as Brian told Ashley that he was going to try to use some “noise” words like she had in her sledding story. All the while, the sound of pencils scratching into paper could be heard in the background.

It occurred to me that I had been telling them that they were writers, and like real writers, they should learn from and help each other, to think about writing all the time, to notice what their favorite writers were doing. But it wasn’t until I treated them like real writers that they really believed it. I had to show them that I meant it. I couldn’t just tell them.

Imagine the power (authority?) I just handed to those 9 year olds. (Can you feel the weight of that power in their little hands? They can. They have to stand up taller to hold it.)

Free Verse: “I Am Learning” I am learning that I love the noise that writers make, the crinkle of paper the slow roll of a page I am learning that the sound of graphite becoming words is soothing… measured sighs a muted cough the sweep of a hand as it smoothes a path for an idea I am learning that I love the noise that writers make, the crinkle of energy the breath of a thought I am learning that the taste of words becoming writing is exhilarating… sweet suggestions a tangy laugh the rush of forgiveness as it smoothes a path for an idea I am learning that I love the noise that writers make

Haiku: “The Noise of Writers” (from “I Am Learning”) crinkle of paper graphite becomes letters, words writers crack fault lines Reflection: “Inspiration for and from ‘I Am Learning’ ”

This poem was inspired by an unfamiliar poem - “I Am Waiting” by Lawrence Ferlinghetti.

When I read the poem in order to use it as a mentor text, I noticed that the easiest crafting move to incorporate would be repeating lines. Lots of poems use that device; my third graders can name that device pretty easily and there are plenty of other poems I could use to model the same device. That’s a pretty accessible crafting move for 3rd graders, so I thought… “Well, if I write a poem with repeating lines, I can use my poem as a mentor text as well.” I felt like Ferlinghetti’s poem had a sense of stagnancy about it. Fran and I actually said, “Why is he just waiting? Why doesn’t he get up and DO something!!”

So when I started planning my writing, I knew that I wanted it to have a little more energy… and definitely not be so long. My little poem really took on a life of its own, though. When I sat down to write, using repeating lines as he did, I thought, “Well, what am I --ing?” I came up with: • hoping • teaching • thinking • helping • learning • writing

I really liked learning. So, then I thought, “Well, what am I learning?” I came up with: • about my kids as writers • about my kids’ lives • about myself as a writer • about myself as a teacher

Then I actually started to write a poem that would cover all of that. A POEM! About six lines in, my mind started to wander, my eyes glazed over and I became acutely aware of the sounds of the room. Actually, at that point I think that I may have been reduced to only the sense of hearing because I had short-circuited the rest of my senses. Anyway, I began to hear the sounds of a room full of writers Statement Vol. 47, No. 1

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and I started jotting down what I was hearing. I found myself enjoying the sounds of writing, and I realized that not everyone would find the sound of a pencil on paper meditative or soothing at all…but I like that I do. Then I thought about the other “thing” in a room full of writers – the energy that you feel. There is something meditative about that vibe, but it’s hard to capture. The product of that energy is something concrete, though. Writing can bring about change and solve problems and heal wounds. So I tried to move away from the actual noise to the figurative noise that is really writers’ voices trying to be heard.

This poem went through at least six revisions that I can remember, with the final revisions being to flip-flop two lines to make “crinkle of paper-slow roll of a page” parallel with “crinkle of energy-breath of a thought.” Also, it was improved through the insight of my workshop group. They looked at changing some periods to commas to help with the flow, and pulling the last line away from the rest of the poem to help it stand alone. I copied my original rambling in my Writer’s Notebook as well each revision because I think it will be powerful for my students to see the journey that this piece took, and that final drafts don’t just pour out of your head every time you sit down to write. Or as our favorite guru, Anne Lamott, llikes to say, “I know some great writers, writers you love who write beautifully and have made a great deal of money, and not one of them sits down routinely feeling wildly enthusiastic and confident. Not one of them writes elegant first drafts. All right, one of them does, but we do not like her very much.” Good to let our students in on that. Maybe in 3rd grade we can call them “Poopy First Drafts.”

I made an effort to use lots of senses in this poem, because I like the way that senses in writing can make something abstract feel real. I also know that senses are a great crafting move to get after right away in a Writer’s Workshop because students can have immediate success with adding senses to their writing.

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And finally, I came away with a good brainstorming tool from Fran. She took the rambling aspect of the poem and began to write “I am wondering.” She came up with some pretty funny and unrelated ideas (“what’s with seeds in seedless oranges, why do some erasers smear instead of erase, what do astronauts do after they come back from the moon?”). We talked about how “I’m wondering…” could be a great page for kids to have in their Writer’s Notebooks to jot down possible future writing. I think I got a lot out of looking at this poem as a mentor text, and I think my students will benefit from my experience.

Colorado Poets Center Offers Free Newsletter

by Dr. Robert King, Director, Colorado Poets Center

The Colorado Poets Center is a website (www.

ColoradoPoetsCenter.org) currently featuring biographies, sample poems, and contact information for 143 published Colorado poets. Representative writers include Denver Laureate Chris Ransick, Pikes Peak Laureate Jim Ciletti, and Colorado Laureate David Mason.

In addition, the Center distributes E-Words, a quarterly electronic newsletter of interviews and articles. We’ve published interviews with Ransick and Mason and many others, including Jake Adam York and Bin Ramke, winners of the 2009 and 2010 Colorado Book Award in Poetry respectively.

We’ve also featured tips on teaching writing by Laurie Wagner Buyer and other poets, as well as essays by Joe Hutchison, Marilyn Krysl, Chris Ransick, and Kathryn Winograd.

Although the newsletter is archived on the web site and available to all, the Colorado Poets Center has decided to offer the service of sending Colorado English language arts teachers each newsletter as it appears. If you’d like to receive E-Words electronically, please notify CPC Director, Robert King, at rwendellking@comcast.net, with your own e-mail address and he will add your name to a list-serve.

“¡Mira!” The Marvelous Poetry of Pat Mora

by Doug Meyers

Dr. G. Douglas Meyers is Professor of English at the University of Texas at El Paso, where he directs the Master of Arts in the Teaching of English Program. His teaching and research interests focus on the preparation of K-12 English Language Arts teachers.

He may be contacted at dmeyers@ utep.edu.

Finding high quality works of multicultural literature that connect with increasingly diverse young adult readers is one of our profession’s top priorities, and Pat Mora’s luminous poetry in English and Spanish can help us to achieve this important goal. Mora is an award winning bilingual Mexican-American poet, essayist, and memoirist, an author of vast accomplishment who has written literary works for children, young adults, and adults. Her words give voice to the voiceless and cast light on those who are invisible to mainstream society, thus providing momentum for the kind of transformative illumination that César Chávez referred to in observing, “Once social change begins, it cannot be reversed; you cannot uneducate the person who has learned to read; you cannot humiliate the person who has pride; you cannot oppress the people who are not afraid anymore.” Two of Mora’s poetry collections, My Own True Name: New and Selected Poems for Young Adults and Dizzy in Your Eyes: Poems About Love, are composed specifically for teen readers. My Own True Name has been making the world a better place for a decade, and Dizzy in Your Eyes, just published, is now starting to have the same effect.

My Own True Name: New and Selected Poems for Young Adults is a collection of sixty-two poems that nourish the imagination and evoke the spirit in ways that give vision and courage to young adult readers who have not often, if ever, seen themselves, their communities, their cultural symbols, and their concerns represented in poetry. Most of the poems are written in English, though some are spiced with Spanish words and a few appear in both Spanish and English. Mora dedicates this book, “To all young writers of all shapes, colors and sizes: May you write many surprising poems,” and in a “Dear Fellow Writer” preface she exhorts young adults to use their languages to “explore the wonder of being alive,” to read and write, observing, Living hurts, so sometimes we write about a miserable date, a friend who betrayed us, the death of a parent. Some days, though, we’re so full of joy we feel like a kite. We can fly! Whether we write for ourselves or to share our words, we discover ourselves when we truly write: when we dive below the surface. It’s never easy to really reveal ourselves in school, but remember that writing is practice. Without practice, you will never learn to hear and sing your own unique song. . . . Remember, my friend, never speak badly of your writing. Never make fun of it. Bring your inside voice out and let us hear you on the page. Come, join the serious and sassy family of writers. (1-3)

Mora uses the guiding metaphor of the cactus to organize the book into three sections, “Blooms,” “Thorns,” and “Roots.” Her topics and themes resonate with young adults, particularly Latino/a young adults, individuals with a sense of otherness, and those who may feel pushed down by society at large. Middle school and high school English Language Arts and ESOL students respond to each section with gusto, as do college students in Young Adult Literature courses. In the “Blooms” section, favorites include “Mango Juice,” which begins with,

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Eating mangoes

on a stick

is laughing as gold juice slides down

your chin melting manners,

as mangoes slip through your lips sweet but biting

is hitting piñatas blindfolded and spinning away from the blues and grays is tossing fragile cascarones on your love’s hair . . . (8)

When she uses Spanish words that all readers may not understand, Mora defines them after the poem. In this case she writes, “Line 16: Eggshells emptied of their yolk, then filled with confetti and painted, for tossing and breaking open during celebrations” (9). “Mango Juice” calls to mind culture and community and causes smiles to beam on readers’ faces. So does “First Love,” whose first simile-rich stanza is, Her brown eyes circle round me, circle though she weaves faraway by a fire her eyes dart round me like gold butterflies

wherever I look

wherever I run they chase me like I chased her round creosote, circling boulders her laugh light as dandelion plumes. (10) Southwestern imagery can be seen in this poem as well as others throughout the collection, and it often symbolizes the indomitability of the landscape and, by extension, the people who occupy it. It radiates from the heart of “The Desert is My Mother,” presented also in Spanish as “El desierto es mi madre,” which begins, I say feed me.

Le digo, dame de comer.

She serves red prickly pear on a spiked cactus.

Me sirve rojas tunas en nopal espinoso.

I say tease me.

She sprinkles raindrops in my face on a sunny day.

Le digo, juguetea conmigo.

Me salpica la cara con gotitas de lluvia en día asoleado. (18-19)

The format of this poem—the ask-and-thou-shall-receive couplets—brings home to young adults the theme of productive interaction with the environment, for it shows the speaker’s versatility and ingenuity to find what one needs in a setting that many might characterize as barren and inhospitable.

The “Blooms” section also features tributes to two great women of the Americas, Georgia O’Keeffe and Sor Juana, one the phenomenal U.S. painter of the twentieth century, the other the brilliant Mexican writer of the seventeenth century, each forging a new path in her own way.

For young adults who will be first-generation college students, new paths to higher education are illuminated by the poignant and inspirational “University Avenue”: 22

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We are the first

of our people to walk this path.

We move cautiously

unfamiliar with the sounds,

guides for those who follow.

Our people prepared us

with gifts from the land

fire, herbs, and song.

Yerbabuena soothes us in the morning

rhythms hum in our blood

abrazos linger round our bodies

cuentos whisper lessons en español.

We do not travel alone.

Our people burn deep within us. (23)

“Spearmint,” “embraces, hugs,” and “stories” are the translations Mora provides for the words in italics.

Moving to “Thorns,” young adult readers will encounter images and vignettes of poverty, prejudice, parting from a loved one, discrimination, disenfranchisement, dissatisfaction with one’s appearance, fear, forsaken love, and alienation. Mora’s take on these problems is not the least bit defeatist. On the contrary, her words convey the message that one need not be ground down by life expereinces but can instead triumph with perseverance, intelligence, and integrity.

Of special note in this section is “Immigrants,” (appearing also in Spanish as “Los inmigrantes”) which captures the complex emotions of immigrant parents contemplating their newborns’ future in the U.S. “Elena” records another immigrant experience, the isolation of a woman who does not know English and her tenacity to learn it: . . . Now my children go to American high schools.

They speak English. At night they sit around the kitchen table, laugh with one another.

I stand by the stove and feel dumb, alone.

I bought a book to learn English.

My husband frowned, drank more beer.

My oldest said, “Mamá, he doesn’t want you to be smarter than he is. I’m forty, embarrassed at mispronouncing words, embarrassed at the laughter of my children, the grocer, the mailman. Sometimes I take my English book and lock myself in the bathroom, say the thick words softly, for if I stop trying, I will be deaf when my children need my help. (40) “Learning English: A Chorus in Many Voices” continues with the exploration of the challenges of learning English as a second language:

i feel like a small child only able to speak very simple all the time i feel incomplete . . .

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i am not shy just do not know english my big problem i believe i talk choppy but want opportunity . . .

it is not easy in our new dream country our language may not help our family

broken my english but doing my best to express me.

(41-42)

In “Tigua Elder,” a Native American narrator, in pain from illness, reflects on what is worse than pain: forgetting one’s heritage:

. . . How do I tell my children: forgetting is worse than pain, forgetting stories old as the moon; owl, coyote, snake weaving through the night like smoke, forgetting the word for the Spirit, waida, waida, the sound I hear in shells and damp caves, forgetting the wind, the necessary bending to her spring tantrums. . . .

There is worse than pain.

There is forgetting those are my eyes in the mirror.

There is forgetting my own true name. (52)

From the prickles of the existential challenges of “Thorns”—with which many contemporary young adults can identify—Mora clears the way in the “Roots” section to affirm what connects us in this world: our ancestors, our cultural traditions, our role models, our relationship with others and with nature. “Tejedora maya” (“Mayan Weaver”) synthesizes many of these:

You too know the persistent buzz

of white space, stubborn as a fly,

the itch. My white is paper,

yours is cotton cloth you smooth

with rough palms in the shade of the old tree,

feel designs alive,

Braille we can’t see,

butterflies, scorpions, snakes

darting and tumbling in your dreams

brushing the backs of your eyes

slither to your fingertips, dart

into red and black threads

your hands, your mother’s hands

your grandmother’s hands 24

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unleash frogs and flowers older than your bones. (56)

“Roots” also features heros—everyday people like “Señora X No More” learning to write her name and “Desert Women” (“When we bloom, we stun.” [55])—as well as extraordinary ones like the symphony orchestra conductor Maestro Abraham Chávez and the educator and author Dr. Tomás Rivera, son of migrant farmer workers.

The importance of familia is paramount in “Roots.” Here, for instance, we see power of the love of grandparents and grandchildren:

“En la sangre” La niña con ojos cafés y el abuelito com pelo blanco bailan en la tarde silenciosa.

Castañetean los dedos a un ritmo oído solamente por los que aman.

“In the Blood” The brown-eyed child and the white-haired grandfather dance in the silent afternoon.

They snap their fingers to a rhythm only those who love can hear. (62-63)

Stories and images of the older generation also abound in poems like “Los ancianos,” (the love of a couple married for fifty years), “Pushing 100,” (a 94-year-old feasting at Denny’s) and “Senior Citizen Trio” (three elderly people reminiscing), which concludes with “We won’t live forever, ya know./It’s good to save the stories” (80).

While many young adults may not fully register the first line, they certainly savor the second, and therein lies part of the sparkle of this book. By reading My Own True Name adolescents realize their lives and their stories are the stuff of poetry. Mora’s poems are vehicles for passionate and powerful reading, the kind reading that involves readers in an artful “living through” of a work of literature, as Louise Rosenblatt, the pioneer of reader response theory, put it. Rich literary transactions occur through both silent reading and oral interpretation, for the scintillating cadences of these poems call out for teacher read-alouds, student read-alouds, and readers’ theater. There is a great deal to be said for the sense of accomplishment and pride fostered when Spanish-speaking students read the poems in Spanish aloud and explicate the connotations of Spanish words.

These transactions with My Own True Name also flourish as inspiration for the writing of fine poetry by young adults. The invitation to write comes in the book’s preface, after all, and my students and their students have used three approaches to poetry writing after reading Mora’s poems. The first, naturally, is to write poems based on the topics and themes of Mora’s poems. Students enthusiastically write about their first (or current) loves, tributes to heroes and heroines, the hopes and challenges of their parents (or of themselves as parents), their friends, families, fears, favorite foods, cultures, languages, and identities—all topics, among others, inspired by My Own True Name. The second strategy for writing poems also flows naturally from reading: imitating the form of Mora’s poems.Young adults love the structure of Mora’s poems and her use of figurative language and imagery because they can clearly understand how she has constructed them, and this allows them to create poems that mirror Mora’s formal features. The third approach goes beyond writing individual poems as students “think big” with this assignment after finishing the entire collection: If you were to write a collection of poems, what would you choose as the guiding metaphor for your book? What would its various its sections be called? Write an interesting commentary about that. Then, write a poem for each of your sections. After each of your poems, explain what you have tried to accomplish in the poem and why it blends with your collection’s guiding metaphor and the section you have chosen to place it in.

Mora uses the cactus plant as the guiding metaphor for her collection of poems, organizing its three sections as “Blooms,” “Thorns,” and “Roots.”

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This project has produced excellent results (available from the author upon request). Its invitation to think metaphorically is one students have gladly accepted, and the metacognitive analysis of their ideas and their poems energizes reflective critical thinking skills. Students have written outstanding poems and used a wide variety of guiding metaphors for their collections, including a Cave, a Christmas Tree, the Flag, the Heavens, Love, the Seasons, and Winnie the Pooh & Friends.

My Own True Name encourages young adults to think about their past as they move into their future, to value their unique voices, to meet their problems head on and not consider themselves victims of their circumstances, but conquerors of them. It also offers them inspiration in role models and in nature and brightens and heightens their capacity to express themselves poetically using English, Spanish, or other resources they may possess.

Dizzy in Your Eyes: Poems About Love explores and elucidates one of the profoundest experiences of young adulthood: love. Most poems are in English, although a few incorporate some Spanish words and one, a celebration of teachers entitled “Ode to Teachers,” appears in both languages. Every poem has a unique teen

persona expressing the idiosyncratic yet universal emotions associated with love. The collection totals fifty poems and addresses something of a four-part romantic love cycle: from love’s initial excitement and confusion, to its challenges and heartaches, to healing, and finally to falling in love again. Readers of all ages can identify with this cycle, perhaps none more so than teen readers, for whom Mora makes clear the connection between love and self love: “An important and sustaining love in our lives is hearing and valuing our own unique, internal song” (3). Some of the poems speak to other kinds of love—of pets, of a sport, and even of writing.

One of the most lustrous aspects of this book is that, as she presents the multi-faceted experience of love, Mora uses many different poetic forms, which she explicitly names, defines, and models for young adults.

This attention to formal matters will help young adults to become more sensitive readers while also promoting

their growth into writers who can employ these forms to express themselves. The variety is munificent as Dizzy in Your Eyes includes the acrostic poem, blank verse, blues, cinquain, clerihew, dialogue poem for two

voices, free verse, haiku, letter poem, list poem, lyric, ode, pantoum, sestina, song, sonnet, tanka, tercet, triolet, and villanelle.

“Weird” I start to type an e-mail, but the letters on the screen don’t match

the letters I type. I try again, stare at the screen, feel I’m in some weird movie and the machine is possessed, has learned to read my mind and enjoys watching my confusion, knows I can’t tell anyone:

my computer and I have a secret.

They’ll think I’m crazy.

No matter what I do, the keys type your name. (5) 26

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“Pressure” The first time he said, “You’re beautiful,” I felt butterflies, yellow and orange fluttering on my arms.

When he said, “I love you,” I couldn’t feel my feet.

“Do you love me?” he asks today, touching my arm.

He strokes my hand, and I become all skin.

My skeleton, the interior forms that hold me up soften into cream.

“If you love me,” he whispers, barely touching my lips, “trust me.”

He wants to take me down to another place, dark, tangled, private, just him and me.

“Trust me— if you love me.”

But I don’t want to go there yet. What if I can’t find my way back? (55-57)

“Dear __________,” I write what I can’t say out loud.

I’m trying not to think about you, but

I can’t resist.

My mind drifts to your slow smile,

how it moves from your lips to your eyes— or is it the reverse? How it lifts me from my ordinary self.

Do you every want to hold my hand?

When we’re talking, and others join us, when you laugh with them, I feel tangled up inside, angry. I struggle not to be rude.

I want to be alone with you.

I love our aloneness.

When I listen to music, I imagine slow dancing with you, and you whisper into my hair, “You are my one true love,” and I smile and know why people write music and paint and dance, lifted as if they can fly, because this ache crashing inside needs to be free.

Sometimes, love becomes a melody

others hum for years. (79-81) “Dumped” I can’t believe you dumped me.

For months, I felt so happy inside.

What a catastrophe!

Now I feel ugly and just want to hide.

All those months, I felt so happy inside.

Was everything you said untrue?

Now I just want to hide

And try to forget I loved you. Still do.

Was everything you said untrue?

“Let’s just be friends.” I hate those words.

I’m trying to forget I loved you and still do.

I ache at the mean rumors I’ve heard.

“Let’s just be friends.” Haunting words.

Me, a lump you dumped, casually.

How I ache at the rumors I’ve heard.

My heart broke, my private catastrophe.

(83) “Four-Letter Word” Like breathing, I started when I was born.

started loving. I didn’t know its name,

but I knew pleasures: eating, warmth.

One day, like a flash of lightning, I linked the four letters, the feeling, with the word.

The word was never the same.

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Very soon, I could list loves galore: sunshine, Mom’s smile, Dad’s laugh, our house, my bed, jeans, friends; the taste of peppermint; music that lifted me soaring off the floor.

Ever since I met you, the word, the same four letters

became a private place your face takes me,

ours the only keys to the invisible door. (125) A multitude of poetic devices nestle in the poems in Dizzy in Your Eyes and much light is shed on the art and discipline of poetry, giving the book tremendous potential to serve as a superb handbook for reading and writing poetry, complete with terms and models. Dizzy in Your Eyes deserves wide acclaim for its originality and accessibility and for the lucent love of language it embodies.

Educators and librarians who wish to know more about Pat Mora are encouraged to consult her website, www.patmora.com, where they will find a wealth of information about this exceptional author and her transcendent works as well as excellent resources for advancing diverse literacies. Pat Mora and her poetry: what a beacon for teachers and students!

Works Cited “About Pat Mora.” 10 October 2009 <http: www.patmora.com>.

Mora, Pat. My Own True Name: New and Selected Poems for Young Adults. Houston: Arte Público, 2000.

---. Dizzy in Your Eyes: Poems About Love.

New York: Knopf, 2010.

Rosenblatt, Louise. Literature as Exploration.

5th ed. NY: Modern Language Association, 1995.

Editorial Positions Available The Colorado Language Arts Society is seeking candidates for the following positions: Editor, Statement Published three times a year, Statement is the journal of the Colorado Language Arts Society. The editor actively seeks submissions to Statement, collaborates with the editorial board to determine which submissions will be published, manages the layout of each issue, sits on the executive board of CLAS, and holds high editorial standards for our professional journal. Must be able to meet deadlines.

Editor, Currents Published three times a year, Currents is the newsletter of the Colorado Language Arts Society. The editor actively seeks submissions to Currents, manages the layout of each issue, sits on the executive board of CLAS, and holds high editorial standards for our newsletter. Must be able to meet deadlines.

Layout Editor, Statement The layout editor assists the editor with the layout of each issue of Statement. Familiarity with InDesign, an Adobe page layout program, as well as creativity, patience, and high standards are attributes needed for this position. Must be able to meet deadlines.

ELL in ELA Columnist, Statement The viewpoint of an educator who is immersed in ELL issues is desired for the position of Statement columnist. Must possess strong writing skills and be able to meet deadlines.

Elementary ELA Columnist, Statement A teacher with strong opinions, strong elementary-level pedagogy, and strong writing skills is needed to fill the position of Statement Elementary ELA Columnist. Must be able to meet deadlines.

If you are interested in any of these positions, please contact Amy Gutierrez Baker, CLAS President, at amygutz@gmail.com.

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Overcoming the Language Barrier:

A Chinese Professor and an American Professor Employ Word Games to Teach Language

By Qiongying Du & Bruce Degi

Two experienced teachers. Two different cultures. Two sets of challenges. Qiongying Du, an English teacher with the Yunnan Radio and Television University in Kunming, China, recently spent two years teaching basic Chinese to students in two different high schools in Salt Lake City. Bruce Degi had the honor of being the first professor from the Metropolitan State College of Denver to be selected for a year-long faculty exchange with that same university, teaching conversational English to their freshmen students. We’d each like to share just one example of the issues we faced, and how we attempted to turn that challenge into a positive learning experience for our students, and ultimately, of course, for us.

Bruce Degi’s Story

My adventure began in August, 2009. Before I left the United States, I was told by a teacher from China that I should expect the Chinese university students to be “sleepy, shy, and silent.” The first characteristic, of course, is the bane of university professors everywhere. Yes, in the crowded classrooms in Kunming I had the occasional student, in the back of the class, drifting off, but with no more regularity than my own students here. It is important to note, however, that Chinese students labor under a prescribed schedule which puts most of them into classes every hour of the school day.

But it was the other two characteristics that posed the real challenge. As far as I could tell, Chinese classrooms follow a traditional, teachercentered, lecture-driven approach. English language

Qiongying Du, an Associate Professor in the Language Department of Yunnan Radio and Television University, has been teaching and conducting research since obtaining her Masters Degree in Educational Technology from Beijing Normal University in 1999.

She taught the Chinese Language for the Salt Lake City School District from July 2007 to June 2009. She can be reached via email at: duqiongying@gmail. com. Bruce Degi taught at the United States Air Force Academy and the Cherry Creek School District before becoming an Associate Professor in the Department of English at the Metropolitan State College of Denver. He also taught at two different universities in Hungary as a Fulbright Senior Scholar. His email address is degi@mscd.edu.

education is no exception. My students had taken a required English class throughout middle school and high school, but the emphasis had always been on the written text, and corresponding issues such as grammar. The teacher taught; the students listened. They were not used to speaking in any class, and they were certainly not used to speaking English in class. Add to that reality the fact that I have taught composition and American Literature for over thirty years, but have never taught English as a language. And the fact that most of my classes contained sixty to seventy students compounded the problem of my charge to develop the students’ English conversational skills, a task that seemed at first all but impossible. Not exactly sure where to start, I decided that, if we were to make any progress whatsoever, I needed to address the issue of student shyness.

The solution to this issue was actually easier than I had first thought. Ultimately, almost every class I conducted throughout the entire school year featured small group work followed by brief oral presentations. My students took to the small groups surprisingly well, although this classroom practice was absolutely new to them. These small groups worked so well, in fact, that an example from one of our “English Corner” sessions might provide some useful insight into the cultural underpinning that my Chinese students brought to the classroom. “English Statement Vol. 47, No. 1

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Corner” was a scheduled time during the evening, once or twice a week, for the students to practice their English with me in an informal setting. Here too, a large number of very shy students made for some awkward times at first. I soon learned that one of the ways around this awkward silence was to teach them some simple American games. One night in particular I had thirty students show up. I had brought Yahtzee score pads with me and found dice at the local department store. My purpose in having the students learn this American family game echoed the same learning outcomes I had for every formal classroom experience: to learn new vocabulary, to learn something about American culture, and to have fun.

With the help of one of the Chinese English teachers, we worked through an explanation of the game in both English and Chinese. The students then split into groups of six or seven and after some hesitation, made their first, tentative dice rolls. As they became more comfortable with the rules and strategy of the game, I began to notice something I had not expected. A student who made a particularly good score became the center of a raucous celebration by all of the other members of his group. In fact, throughout the evening all of the members of a group would cheer on the current player, clapping wildly if he or she rolled the numbers that the player was looking for. Unlike the typical level of individual competition in United States, for these Chinese students individual success bolstered the group’s success. It was this attitude, I was soon to learn, that translated nicely into the small group work in the classroom, as students were always interested in the group presenting the best possible response to any exercise.

Sleepy? Yes, sometimes. But by the end of the first month no longer shy and silent.

Qiongying Du’s Story

My first time in an American classroom was a shock. I soon learned that American students don’t like, and are not used to, memorization, unlike my Chinese students. And they let me know that. So, it gave me a hard time to find an easy way to help them to keep in mind the Pinyin spelling and the strokes for the characters they needed to learn. I made up several activities using body movements, like “dances with tones” and “stroke dancing,” which I have never done before with my students in China, but it turned out to be very effective with my American students.

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On my first day of class, one of my students asked me how to write “American football” in Chinese. I wrote the three characters on the board while they counted the strokes—the grand totally was fiftysix! They were all overwhelmed by how many steps they need to remember just to show their favorite sport in written Chinese. Besides, they needed to follow the correct order of doing the strokes as well in writing the characters. And this is what they said: “Do we have to memorize all those strokes?! Crazy Chinese!” At this point, I was overwhelmed by that because I had never noticed as a native Chinese speaker that it would take so many stokes. So I had to tell them to calm down and that we would learn some oral Chinese before we attempted to write characters. And I promised them I would make it as easy as possible.

From that day on, I began to think about how to make the characters easier for them to learn. I did some research and was not surprised to find that most traditional ways of learning were to copy and memorize, which I soon learned the American students hated the most. But I did find my students would be active participants if they were properly motivated; therefore, I made up a “stroke dance,” as follows.

At the beginning of each class during the first week, I would ask my students to do some morning exercises (a very common practice in Chinese schools) by following me in doing specific dance movements. By using arm and body movements, I showed them all the basic movements needed to produce the strokes while announcing their various names. In this way, they started their first Chinese character writing, even though it was in the air, and to my surprise they really liked it. After several classes of doing these “dance steps,” I would ask them to show me the proper dance just by listening to my pronunciation of the stokes. By the end of the week they were really doing a good job with this writing on the air.

In the second week we moved from air to paper. I allocated each one a little white board and a marker. Then, I would just name the strokes and they were supposed to write it on their board and show me. The first one who could show me the right stroke was the winner and got an extra point.

In the third week, I began to show them the radicals, the building blocks of Chinese characters, in an interesting way. By using a power point presentation,

I showed them four different radicals each day and let them learn the radical by writing in their notebooks. Each radical has its own symbol picture and story. The meaning of the character for woman, for example, can be understood through its resemblance to the profile of an ancient woman in genuflection, which was an ancient symbol of feminine propriety.

The ancient form for the Chinese character “mountain” looks like a mountain chain. These squareshaped Chinese characters are actually formed in interesting ways. I was happy that my students all agreed it was fascinating. Then, I would also show them the characters made from other radicals like “good,” which is made up from two other radicals, “woman” + “son,” which means “good” by explaining that Chinese people think a mother taking care of her son is a very good thing. In this way, I also created some guessing games to help them to identify the meaning of some characters, which could also help them to recognize characters.

After they had a sense of how characters are formed, I began to show them the four basic character structures: top-down, left-right, half-circled, and complete-circled, with good example characters. To my surprise, they began to make their own characters by using the radicals they had learned. Step by step, I told them all the secrets of the characters and having a clear picture of how a character was formed, they were not afraid anymore. By the second month of class we began to learn several characters a day. I taught each new Chinese character with a demonstration of the correct stroke and order sequence.

We would always do it in the air by “stroke dancing” first and then move to the white board.

Games and flash cards were also good ways to help them to learn to recognize characters and consolidate their memories. See the textbox for some examples of the games I used.

I had a wonderful time in the United States and made some very good friends. We both firmly believe that international education is not just something interesting, but has become something vital to our world as a whole. As opportunities become more and more available we hope that more and more teachers, from both high school and college, will take advantage of bringing their teaching styles and their culture to students of another country. The challenges are many, but the rewards are greater.

Romper Room 1. A set of flashcards for new words is placed on the board.

2. Students are asked to close their eyes while the teacher takes one, two, or three of the cards away.

3. Students must identify the missing cards.

4. Each time the student gives a correct answer she gains one point. At the end the student who gains the highest points wins the game.

Paper, Scissors, Rock 1. Divide the class into teams of six to eight students. Play two teams at a time.

2. Place the vocabulary cards in a line on the floor and line the teams up on either side of the cards.

3. On the signal “go”, students jump over the cards while saying them in Chinese.

4. When two players meet, they play paper, scissor, rock; the loser must give way to the winner. The students who jump to the end gain a point for their team.

5. At the end the team that earned more points wins the game.

Vocabulary Captain 1. Students line up, all holding picture cards (hanzi cards).

2. One person stands at the front of the line.

3. One at a time each player hold up his /her card for the front person (the captain) then bobs down.

4. When the captain has identified (read) all the cards he/she joins the front of the line and the last person comes up to the front and be comes the new captain.

5. This continues as a relay until all players have had a turn as captain, with the winners the team to finish first.

Twister 1. Divided the class into two teams.

2. Place several cards containing characters or phrases on the ground.

3. Each team chooses one student to play for the team for five ques tions.

4. Team #1 sends a student up first. Then, Team #2 students call out the vocabulary items. The player must put his feet or hands on the item that he heard. Team #2 students call out another vocabulary item, and the player must put feet or hands on the item just heard.

This continues until the student finishes the five questions; any student who falls over during the process loses.

Ping Pong Point 1. Allocate points to words/sentences according to difficulty. Write the point value on the back of word cards and attach them word-sidedown to a board.

2. Students/teams choose a card to read. If they read it correctly they receive the points on the card. If they get it wrong, they lose the points on the card.

3. The team with the most points at the end is the winner.

Word Relay 1. Students are divided into teams.

2. The teacher shows a picture card.

3. Then the team must write the correct character on the board in relay.

4. Each student is only allowed to write one stroke, and then must pass the pen to the next student.

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BEFORE THE BELL: Inside Out

by Josh Curnett

I’m trying a new role as a mentor for our district’s first-year teachers, and I’ve just finished a conference with a “mentee” about his most recent class. I see each of my 13 teachers once a week, and I observe their classes and provide feedback, notes, and ideas. Sometimes, I simply listen to the teachers vent and try to make sense of it all.

As I’m walking out of the building and reviewing the teacher’s lesson in my head, thinking about ways I could suggest change or how I might influence the teacher’s thinking process regarding a particular situation, it occurs to me to remember just how intense life might be for each of these 13 people.

Parent-for-the-first-time intense. Meaning-of-life intense. Things-you-never-forget intense. Come-toJesus intense.

The way I do this is by remembering my life as a first-year teacher. I wish I could somehow repay that first crop of kids I was unleashed upon, somehow dial back the clock and re-do it all.

It’s November, 1998, a week or so before Thanksgiving. My hands clench the steering wheel of my rusty, moldy ‘82 Honda Civic, the only car I could afford at the time (bought for $400 cash from some guy in Lakewood). I am hitting a top speed of zero miles per hour as I sit in the teacher parking lot on a Friday after school. Autumnal sunlight slants in through the windows underneath a blue-and-white Colorado sky strewn with lenticular, wind-blown clouds; I can hear ragged, cut-off shouts of students still stragging home for the weekend. The car’s off; all I hear is my breathing; my eyes are closed. My tie is loosened, collar unbuttoned. A stack of 165 ungraded essays lies like a venomous snake on the seat next to me.

I’ve made it another five days and have another weekend of grading ahead.

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Statement Vol. 47, No. 1

Josh Curnett is a National Board Certified Teacher and a S.T.A.R. Mentor in Cherry Creek Schools.

Email: jcurnett@ cherrycreekschools.org.

I’m exhausted because I get up at 4:55 and go to bed at 11:30; I’m frustrated because my recalcitrant students seem to loathe me; I’m confused because I work so much but seem to accomplish so little; I’m lonely because I don’t know many colleagues yet and I don’t see my fiancée or friends as much as I used to; I’m angry because I’ve started something I’m crummy at and don’t feel like finishing.

I remember thinking that day, “I have got to find some help,” and, at that moment, as I looked in my rearview mirror, I saw Roberta Ford scream out of the parking lot in her convertible Mercedes coupe.

I remembered meeting this person in a prep week meeting and thinking, “She’s kind of like Yoda.” Roberta is only 5 feet tall in heels. She’s like that little lady in Poltergeist, but less squeaky.

That weekend, I dreamt of a strangely-robed Roberta standing on a log in a swamp and saying things with Kermit the Frog’s voice such as, “Find out how hard teaching is during the first year, you will.

Rewarding too, you will find this profession. Change you forever as a person, it will. Find The Force you must, Josh. Find The Force you must.”

I would wake up in a cold sweat.

On Monday, I navigated the ’82 Civic back to school and went and found Roberta’s office. I saw a plaque outside of it that read “Colorado Teacher of the Year 1990” and then her name under it with a picture of her teaching in class. What was really strange is that the students in the picture seemed interested and were looking right at her. A few were smiling with that unmistakable “I’m having a good time and learning, too” look, mouths slightly agape. They did not look like my students. I was so jealous.

I walked into her classroom and introduced myself. Roberta stood up to greet me. I towered over her, yet it was clear who had The Force and who did

not. I was putty in her hands. We began a mentor/ mentee relationship without either of us saying it.

For the next six months, I bothered Roberta on a daily basis about what I needed to do to and would often wait in the chairs outside of her office alongside her students. The students began to get used to me sitting there waiting with them. After a pimplyfaced sophomore wearing an Anthrax concert tee would come out, I, wearing a shirt and tie, would go in. A typical conversation went something like this:

“Hi Roberta. Got a minute?”

“Sure, Josh. Come on in.” I noticed that she did not turn away from her papers to greet me, but I could tell she was smiling. She had a step stool on the floor for her feet to rest upon. Lots of student pictures and thank-you notes adorned her walls.

“Um, Roberta?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“My students are sitting back in their chairs with their arms folded and sneering at me. They are silent. I hear a few of them sucking their teeth.”

“Well, you seem like a pretty funny guy. Are you ever funny with them?”

A pause. “No. I thought I was not supposed to be funny in class.”

“Try it.”

“OK.”

Elapsed conversation time: 30 seconds. I was out the door trying to be funny in class. Next day:

“Um, Roberta?”

“Yes, sweetheart.” Roberta is entering grades on a computer with her back to me. I could tell she was smiling.

“I tried to be funny. They really seemed to like it and encouraged me to be funnier with them.

Then the students started being funny, too, and they thought they were much funnier than I was. They turned the class into chaos because they were so funny. I couldn’t get them back.”

“Did you have an agenda on the board? Did they know when it was time to be funny and when it was not time to be funny?”

A pause. “No. I didn’t know I could show them my agenda. I thought I had to keep that to myself.”

“Try it.”

Elapsed time of conversation: 24 seconds.

Next day:

“Um, Roberta?”

“Yes, sweetheart.” Roberta was writing nice notes to students and parents on her own stationery.

She did not turn around. I could tell she was smiling.

“Some of the students wrote naughty words and pictures next to my agenda on the board, and then they wrote their own agenda next to it.”

“Did they have access to your chalk?”

A pause. “Yes. I did not know I needed to protect the chalk.”

And then I began to cry. Sob. Wail. Snot hung out of my nose and those spit strings dripped from my mouth. I (snot) was (spit) such (cough) a (hack) failure!

Roberta turned around. She stood up and came over to me. Roberta hugged me around my waistline with her head against my belly and said, “Josh, don’t worry. Just stay standing until June 9th, OK? Don’t worry about how bad you are, how bad the classes are, how bad everything is. Just stay standing until June 9th. Then this will be over and things will be better. I promise.” She looked upward at me and I could tell she was telling the truth. It seemed like she had been there or something.

Those were the most important words I heard that year. When I would visit Roberta afterwards, her first words were always, “How long until June 9th? You are still standing, my friend.” And it was true—winter passed, and then it was March, and then April, and then May, and I was looking at just a week left of classes. I had made it until June 9th. Roberta hugged me around the waist again. My dreams of her as Yoda began to dissipate. She was turning into more of an Obi-Wan. I was beginning to find the Force.

And so, as I head into each of my mentees’ classrooms this fall, I try to keep my own first year in mind so that I can remember one of the most difficult times of my life when speaking with a brand-new teacher. And I try to channel at least a bit of Roberta’s tough love, when she knew enough to tell me the truth but also knew enough to care about me along the way.

I’m still teaching because of it.

Statement Vol. 47, No. 1

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Statement Vol. 47, No. 1

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