Teaching the Fine Art of B.S.

“Wait a minute, Mrs. Krulder,” one of my AP Literature and Composition students objected about a month into the fall semester. “So you’re saying we just MAKE UP the meaning of the poem?”

“Yes.” I explained, “You use ideas and patterns you notice in the the text to formulate what you think the poem means.”

“But that’s just . . . just . . . b.s.!”

“O.K. . . . yes.” I agreed, “Literary analysis is b.s. that you can credibly and convincingly back up with evidence from the text.”

Ever since this conversation a few years ago, I’ve used the idea of literary analysis as b.s. with my classes every year. This seems to speak to a concept students have of what it means to “do” school successfully and it helps them break free of a misconception many of my students have fallen prey to. Students come into my class with the idea that there is a right answer to every question and to be successful, they just need to figure out what that answer is. AP students are particularly prone to this notion, I’ve found. For the most part, they’ve learned how to figure out what their teachers want and deliver it - which is what makes the type of thinking necessary for AP Literature, and any literary analysis, for that matter, so disconcerting for them.

If you’ve ever spent a period digging into a poem with a class, noticing interesting words, ideas, and patterns, and batting around themes and meaning, only to be asked by a student a few minutes before the bell rings: “So what does it REALLY mean?” you’ll understand my frustration. No matter how many times I explained to them that they are the ones who bring the meaning to a text, they didn’t seem to internalize the concept.

It doesn’t help that all too often, poems are portrayed as puzzles with hidden meaning, rather than windows and mirrors into our humanity. It’s understandable how this idea might be perpetuated, based on all of the teachers and professors we’ve listened to over the years opine on their brilliant interpretations of Eliot and Frost. And while those lectures may have been interesting (occasionally), they also had somewhat of a stultifying effect on our own fledgling attempts at developing analytical skills. After all, how could we know if our interpretations were the “right” ones - especially once we had left college and had no “experts” to consult about the correctness of our attempts at meaning?”

I’ve found that the idea of analysis as b.s. has helped my students finally understand their part in reading and thinking about a text. I’m careful to explain that “good” analysis takes time and practice like anything else - we work on the skills of making an effective argument for meaning and the important role that evidence and commentary play - something that the AP Literature curriculum is tailored to. Some “b.s.” is definitely more persuasive than others and they quickly begin to recognize this in the many discussions we hold in class over the course of the year.

It seems easier for students to think that there is a single concrete answer to the question “What does it mean?” but this not the way literary analysis works and thank goodness! How freeing and engaging for students (and for us, as teachers) to know that the texts we read can speak to our own experiences and ideas, and that we have the power to create meaning for ourselves. As an English teacher, I can’t help but savor the irony that the concept of b.s. is one way I’ve figured out to help students arrive at their own truths.

Teacher in Wonderland - My First Time at NCTE’s Annual Convention

Teacher in Wonderland - My First Time at NCTE’s Annual Convention

             

I never really considered attending NCTE until this year. I thought it was too big, too extravagant, too far away, and overall just too far out of reach, budget and otherwise. I had attended state conferences in my early days of teaching, and remember coming away energized, my head swirling with possibilities. But as my teaching career progressed, somehow this type of professional development seemed to become less and less of a possibility. So, when a group of teachers on Twitter started tossing around ideas for proposals to present at NCTE 2017, I’m not sure what made me jump on board and join in.

This group of teachers is special, though. Sprinkled throughout the country, from East to West Coast, we’ve collaborated for the past two years on Twitter and Voxer, a messaging app that allows you to not only send text, but also voice messages. Sharing lesson ideas, troubleshooting classroom frustrations, and even building curriculum together across the miles, we built a learning community that empowered me to step out of the safe routine I’d built for myself over my nineteen years of teaching. I began experimenting in the classroom again, trying new techniques and sharing my triumphs and flops with my colleagues while they did the same, and we grew from discussing what we did and learned so much from each other.

What has been even more groundbreaking for me has been my renewed desire to write. I’ve been writing posts for aplithelp.com, a website created by my friend from New York, Brian Sztabnik - aka Talks With Teachers - and edited by Susan Barber from Atlanta, Georgia, another amazing educator I have the privilege to work with. I write about my teaching practice and ideas I’ve tried in my classroom and the reflection embedded in the writing process has made me a better teacher. Teachers know about the myriad demands for our time and attention and frankly, I’ve always thought I was too busy to write. But, this motivated, reflective group of educators that I met on Twitter helped me understand that writing, reflecting, and sharing ideas about teaching makes my job more joyful and engaging.

So, when not just one, but two of the sessions we proposed to NCTE were accepted, I was suddenly faced with a choice: bow out or find a way to make it to St Louis, the city where NCTE 2017 was being held. I quickly realized that I simply had to go; as much as I really don’t savor the spotlight, the idea of sharing ideas with educators all across the nation was just too much to resist. I held my breath and asked my administration if they could help me go to the conference and they were so supportive, paying part of my expenses. Suddenly, St Louis seemed like a lot more of a possibility.

My group proceeded to collaborate on our presentation digitally over Google slides and Voxer, and when we arrived in St Louis on a chilly November evening, it was “ready or not, here we come!” We were set to present the following afternoon, and it was an exhilarating experience. Not only did we each share practical ideas and activities for engaging students in close reading, but the audience interacted with us and each other in a way that made my heart sing. I attended several inspiring sessions over the course of my three days in St. Louis, and for the rest of the conference and even on the flight home, I was immersed in conversations about classrooms all over the country, including Canada, where wonderful things were happening. I asked questions, wrote copious notes, and took down contact information, including several Twitter handles, and made so many connections with brilliant educators. It was glorious and, writing this, my mind is still aswirl with all of the things I will try in my classroom in the weeks to come.

This experience has shown me that teachers can build their communities in many ways, but it’s crucial that we build them, because we need others to help us grow and learn and thrive as educators. Going to NCTE 2017 and getting to meet and work with people who have become so important to my practice and, yes, my life, has been an incredible adventure - one which I am determined to repeat next year in Houston for NCTE 2018.

Shower the people - 5 ways to let your students know you love them and engage them in the process

I recently had one of those revelations so clear and common sense that I thought I must be the last teacher in the world to realize it. My students need to know how I feel about them, every day.

Just about everyone in education acknowledges how crucial relationships are when it comes to creating a classroom culture where students can thrive, but often, the specifics of this process can be hazy. And teaching can be really hard - University of Chicago researcher Phillip Jackson estimated teachers make an average of 1500 educational decisions in a single day.

Teachers obviously wouldn’t be doing this job if we didn’t care deeply about the young people we spend hours with everyday - not to mention the other hours we spend thinking about how to better help them learn. But just because we love our students doesn’t mean they know this. As an introvert, I have a tendency to avoid imposing my emotions on others and it took me way too many years to realize that if I don’t make my feelings obvious, they will for the most part go unseen.

I’ve always been mostly mystified by the concept of student engagement, but a few years back, Dave Burgess’  “Teach Like a Pirate” helped me realize that not only are there myriad ways to be creative in the classroom, but that the most important part of engagement is to let your students see the joy you find in your engagement with them. So, I began to step out of my comfort zone, showing students how I felt about them, and the response I got back was so positive that I have never gone back.

Here are some ways I let my students know how much I care about them:

1. I see you:  Every day, I make a point of looking each student in the eyes and smiling. Often this will happen as they walk in the door, but if not, I’ll find a way to make contact with them sometime during class. I also do this in the hall with students who I may not know. I read somewhere that there are students that go through the day without being acknowledged by another human being. Whether or not this is true, they will be seen by me. It’s a small gesture but it’s had a huge payoff when it comes to the culture in my classroom.
2. Popsicle sticks: Discussion is a foundational part of my pedagogy, but teachers know that classroom discussion can often be dominated by a handful of talkative students, while the majority of the voices go unheard. I’ve learned that a simple system of random selection not only vastly expands the number of students who participate in classroom discussions, but ups the engagement of people in the room who might otherwise tune out if they don’t think they’ll be called on to share their ideas. There are some cool random number generator apps like Pretty Random that have come out to aid in this process, but I find I always come back to the low tech popsicle sticks.
3. Conferencing: While I have refined my writing and reading feedback methods over my 19 years of teaching,  there’s nothing that gives more bang for my buck than a few minutes of individual conversation with my students. Whether it is discussing how to improve a thesis statement or recommending a new book to read, talking with my students is the best way to figure out  what students need and to get to know them better as people.
4. Call home for the good stuff: Often,  I’ll pick out one or two students and make a call home to tell parents about something good I’ve noticed about their child. Parents are usually dubious at first, and then grateful, and while it’s nice to have positive interactions with parents, I’ve noticed that the process of finding students to call about changes my whole focus in the classroom; by looking for the good stuff, my perception of the day is more positive. Win, win!
5. Just tell them: I have started to make it a practice to tell my classes as a whole as well as individual students the wonderful things I notice about them. Educators know the important effect of positive interactions, but it’s easy to let the day slip by without acknowledging the wonderful things our students do or say. Just yesterday, I mentioned to my sophomores how impressed I was with the way they disagreed with each other in kind and productive ways, seeking to understand rather than put other points of view down. We’ve been working on communication skills and this is often the one of the most difficult for them. One of my boys who also happens to be on the JV football team enthused about a book he was reading in class the other day, and I just happened to see two other boys in class reading that same book in the week following. I made sure he knew about his influence in the moments during passing period before the tardy bell rang and though I only got a “Cool.” in response, his smile showed how much these interactions are worth.

There was a time I would have avoided these type of interactions with my students in fear of looking awkward or fake, but the truth is I do care deeply about my students and they deserve to know this. And ever since I’ve begun to shower my students with love, the harvest has been bountiful.