A Question of Participation: Time to Fish!

Were you one of those kids that sat in school dreading the moment you would be called on to answer a question?  I most definitely was one of those kids and of course I grew out of it for the most part, but participation in school was literally torture for me growing up.

With that in mind, I face a dilemma as a teacher.  I teach in a school in which my department expects students to participate in class discussions on a frequent basis.  I tend to agree with the philosophy in principle, but I cannot help but feel major empathy for those kids that are literally terrified of the prospect of speaking in front of everyone. 

I believe that participation can take many forms other than simply contributing to the class discussion.  Opening up the opportunity to blog back a response after class has been very effective the past few years.  Heck, I would even consider tweeting back a response would be considered a form of participation.  Even if if is not technically done in class, does it not show that the student is clearly thinking through the question at hand?

One method that I have found to benefit all students most is the fishbowl discussion method.  Honestly, I cannot remember where I first heard about it, but basically the class is put into 4 different groups.  A discussion question is posed and the small groups each discuss it for a few minutes.  At the end of the time a representative is selected to participate in the fishbowl.

The fishbowl has five chairs around the table.  Each group sends member to the fishbowl where they discuss the topic based upon their small group discussion.  The rest of the students observe as silent participants.  If for some reason, someone that is not in the fishbowl wants to contribute, they may sit in the fifth chair and throw out their idea and then vacate the spot for another contributor. 

With this method, every student is participating is some capacity.  For those that are very introverted, the small group is ideal and I have found that even the most quiet of students find comfort in the small group setting.

I would welcome any feedback from anyone on how you engage those students who would rather take the "C" than speak up in class.  This former "C" kid would love your comments!

The Bloody Massacre Revisited

People have always accused me of having a flair for the dramatic, so if there is any way to plan a lesson involving costumes, then I'm totally up for it!  My storage closet in my classroom is packed to the gills with props and an unusually high number of wigs.

One of the most complex and interesting lessons we do is the annual recreation of the Boston Massacre.  Rather than just reading through a bunch of first hand accounts(which I think is also great by the way), we take those accounts and bring them to life.  I used to do a mock trial based upon the event where we put Captain Thomas Preston on trial. It worked out very well, but in the end I craved blood.

After a lot of thought, I approached our theater department to see if we could bring the event to life using a simple set, props and trained actors.  Annually, our Black Box theater in transformed into March 5, 1770 complete with snow and copious amounts of fake blood. 

The stage is set. 

The day begins like any other day but then a panicked colonist pounds upon our classroom door shouting that there is a fire and to bring our buckets to help extinguish the flames.  We follow the distressed colonist to the darkened theater.  Once we enter, it is pitch black with an audio track booming the sounds of an angry mob taunting the British soldiers along with the soldiers yelling back at them to disperse.  One thing leads to another and the theater is filled with the sounds of musket fire

Students listening to the mob.

whereupon the lights come up and the aftermath is laying in front of the students.

I then hand out an investigative journal to each student that they fill out to piece together the story.  First, they must survey the scene and make notes of any evidence left behind.  This year I placed various QR clues around to give them some hints. 

After about 10 minutes of them investigating, the colonists come out in dramatic fashion to tell their side of the story.  Students cycle around to each of them asking questions and making note of their testimony.  The British soldiers then make an appearance as well to counter what the colonists said.  It often turns into a very confrontational experience which blows the kids minds!

A colonist tells his story

I have been very lucky the past few years to have some wonderful former students give up their time to portray the witnesses.  Since they experienced it as my students in 8th grade, they are really excited to return to be the actors and each year it gets better.

The day after the massacre, I have them get into small groups to discuss their findings and then as a whole group come up with the sequence of events.  Oftentimes, I find that they have done such a good job with their own investigation that I don't really need to add anything. We end the lesson by looking at Paul Revere's engraving of the massacre and have some "aha" moments about his intention and the not so subtle way he was reworking the real story to meet the needs of the patriot cause.

While it might not be easy for everyone to go to this extreme to portray the Boston Massacre, it can be modified.  For example, the mock trial worked really well in the past.  Through the years, I have used numerous resources, but one of the best is The Boston Massacre Historical Society which has the original transcripts plus tons of other information.  For the mock trial, each student was given a role to study and both the defense and prosecution worked to develop their case. 

Another idea would be to split the class down the middle and have one side defend the actions of the colonists while the other side defend the soldiers.  I have done this for a Patriot/Loyalist debate with great results.

Students caught in the middle of an argument between soldiers and colonists

Although recreating the massacre as I have done does take quite a bit of work, the end result is well worth the effort.  Seeing my students decipher the material and get totally immersed is totally worth the rehearsals and the ridiculously early morning to set it all up.  By the way, if you want some pretty darn realistic fake blood that is easy to clean up, use clear Palmolive and red food coloring(watch out it might stain a bit).  I once used Karo syrup which ended in disaster.  Not only was it a nightmare to clean up, by the end of the day, it had attracted any army of ants.  Eh, you live you learn.

QRchaeology: Jamestown

The struggle of every teacher is to make their subjects relevant and real to students.  Throughout my 15 year teaching career, I have sought to engage students in their learning through a variety of highly interactive activities.  Wow, seriously 15?

For our study of Jamestown, I "hired" my students to serve as field and forensic archaeologists to survey both remains and relics found at the site.  With each student having an Ipad this year, it was the perfect opportunity to QR it up!

The site consisted of two grave sites and two trash pits.  Each site had a collection of QR codes and other physical artifacts.  I bought two skeletons at the local Halloween shop to add a bit of macabre to the mix and outlined each grave and trash pit with painters tape.  The QR codes either contained links to images of unearthed items or text clues about the condition of the body.

As they progressed to each site, they were given a series of guiding questions such as;

1.  Based upon the items what can you say about their daily life?  
2.  How did they survive?
3. What evidence do you have that Jamestown began to prosper?
4.  Based upon the examination of the bodies and their burial, what can you say about their status in Jamestown?  Can you determine a cause of death?  (The male was found with a bullet embedded in his leg and died of blood loss.

As with each lesson, you just never know how it will be received.  Sometimes what we think is brilliant can sometimes totally flop with the kids.  When we began the activity this morning I braced myself for blank looks, but they embraced the dig with an incredible amount of curiosity and interest.  Also, they interpreted their findings with a great deal of accuracy which gave them all a nice ego boost.  At the end I designated them all "Student Archaeologists: First Class" which got a hearty round of cheers.

The Jamestown Rediscovery website was primarily used to find the relics and the burials .  If you would like to use the QR Codes that I created, feel free to email me at oneifbylandadventures@gmail.com.  I'm working on getting a more cleaned up version at my website.  Please visit!  I'm always looking for feedback.

The Aura in the Graveyard

Capturing the Aura(ghost) of Vicente Ybor

The sheer amount of technology is wonderful and also a bit overwhelming.  Every day there is something new and exciting so I have to sort of stop myself at times and just concentrate on a few tech treasures and try to master them before stumbling into app overload.

Aurasma has been an exciting one that I will be using with my classes this year.  It is sort of like a QR code on steroids where you can link an object to an Aura.  Basically it can make the inanimate object come to life.

Yup, I love to dress up

This past week, I wanted to start out the year by letting the students learn about local history by using Aurasma at Oaklawn Cemetery in downtown Tampa.  The previous day I had gone out there myself to create the Auras linking the selected gravestones to archival pictures and information about the person buried there. 

After having spent time creating them and also experiencing the nightmare of actually falling into an open grave, the only thing left was to see if it worked with the students.  In my gravedigger outfit, I led them out to the cemetery and gave them written clues about who they needed to find.  Despite the insane heat, the kids loved it and got very excited when the auras would appear.  Admittedly, some of the auras did not work, perhaps due to shading at that time of day, but all in all, it was a successful ghost hunt.

As a class we plan on creating auras to make our class an aura filled interactive classroom linking projects to students explanations and making our bulletin boards alive. 

Aurasma has a lot of possibilities and I look forward to hearing what other teachers are using it for.

The Power of a Teacher Note

Those awkward and sometimes distressing days of junior high are never too far from my mind, especially since I am now a middle school teacher and can sometimes see the same struggles I had being played out again in the halls of my school.

Throughout all of this I will always remember the kindness shown to me by my Journalism teacher Ms. Maurer.  After a series of highly regarded movie reviews penned by me for our school newspaper, The Bunkhouse News, including a stirring tribute to the beauty and grace of Dirty Dancing, Ms. Maurer promoted me to editor in chief during the fall of 1988.

I remember working like a dog on that issue, sometimes letting my other subjects slip due to my sheer devotion to the press.  I was never the popular kid in school and sadly suffered a fair amount of abuse, being constantly referred to as "queer" through the hallways because of my lackluster sports skills.  My fawning over Patrick Swayze in my Dirty Dancing review probably didn't help much either.  Regardless, I had some major self esteem issues and the promotion at the hands of Ms. Maurer served as a much needed boost.

Soon before going to press, Ms. Maurer came up to me after an assembly smiling and holding a note.  I will never forget how she simply walked up the bleachers and handed me the note without saying a word and walked away.  This was the first time I had ever been given a note by a teacher and at the time I thought I was being fired from the newspaper.  The note was a simple and sincere thank you for having done a great job on the fall edition of the newspaper.  I was a little stunned by it and read it multiple times throughout the day, each time swelling with pride that someone had noticed and took the time to acknowledge it.

It has been over 25 years and I still have the note proudly framed and hanging up in my house during the summer and in my classroom during the school year.  It reminds me of the power of words, not just spoken words, but also written. 

It has been a goal of mine to do the same for my own students through the years.  Admittedly, I have not as been consistent as I would like to be but each new school year presents us with a new opportunity.  I know that writing an email is simply easier, but I always choose to to go old school and give out a handwritten note sealed with wax.  Hey, it's all about presentation too!

I wish I could find Ms. Maurer and tell her what that note still means to me.  I have attempted to find her through the years with no luck.  Perhaps one day she will stumble across this blog, so Leslie Maurer, if you are out there, thanks for the continued boost and inspiration!

A Gift from Mom

I think we all go through that phase where we are mortified by the thought of being seen with our parents.  I remember clearly asking to be let off at the movie theater 3 blocks away from the entrance, so that everyone would never suspect that I had ever been given birth two by those embarrassing creatures.

My mom especially liked to torment me with her music and would grab anything and turn it into a guitar and wail some Elvis song at the top of her lungs.  My friends always thought it was hilarious but I always wanted to crawl into the nearest closet and hide.


Music was the one constant in our household.  Whenever we had family reunions, my mom's 13, yes 13, brothers and sisters would break out into a beautiful sing along of old gospel hymns, some of which had been written by my grandfather, CC Clements.

My mom passed away after a long illness in 2001 and we were left with the task of cleaning up and clearing out her things.  Mom always had a cedar chest at the foot of her bed which my brother and I were banned from ever going through.

A couple weeks after she died, our dad told us to go through the chest and take what we wanted.  Upon opening the mysterious trunk, we w pored through all kinds of items Mom had kept from our childhood.  Old pajamas, books, assignments both good and bad.  It was a virtual time capsule.

At the bottom of the trunk there was a odd mass of crumbled cellophane that was yellowed and flaking.  I picked it up and began peeling away the layers like an onion.  Much to my surprise it was an old record with my grandmothers writing on it.  Mom had never told us, but she had recorded a demo record with my grandfather and I was holding it in my hands decades after it had been recorded.

I excitedly ran over to a record player that had been gathering dust in my dad's den for the last 20 years and attempted to play the record, but the player had long since broken down.  Where to go?

I finally got the idea to take it to a recording studio and see if they would be willing to play it.  I found one locally and was greeted at the entrance by a giant of a man.  I told him that my mom had just died and that I thought this might be a recording of her.  He seemed interested enough and agreed to throw it on the turntable.  He left me down in the studio and he proceeded up to the booth where he put it on.

After a few very scratchy stops and starts the sounds of my then high school age mother and my grandfather began playing from every speaker in the building.  Within just a few seconds I was sobbing; not only was I hearing my recently deceased mother, it was also the first time I had ever heard my grandfathers voice.  I looked up toward the booth and saw the owner, all 300 masculine pounds of him, also weeping like a baby. 

Although the songs were scratchy and a bit difficult to decipher, one song titled "Don't Tell Me Goodbye" truly resonated with me.  Still in the throes of grief, it seemed like Mom was speaking to me from the grave and telling me that all was well.

It was probably the greatest gift I could have ever hoped to receive.

Lessons from Matthew

Matthew

I can only hope that the path I take in my life can create and leave some positive things for the world around me. I know my path will be both good and bad, but I must continue forward the best I know how. When I reach a barrier or realize a limit, I will simply gather myself fundamentally and continue. 

-Matthew Moore

We have all had varied high school experiences.  Some of us were part of the popular group and were invited to all the best parties, while others of us barely struggled to survive the sea of teenage angst.  I definitely fell into the latter category and often say to others that I should sue Napoleon Dynamite for stealing my look.

Yes, my teenage years were not exactly the best years of my life but they do still hold some valuable lessons that I pass on to my students who are just entering that sometimes troubling time themselves.   Going into high school was panic attack inducing for me.  Feeder schools all cycled into one massive high school and from the moment I got my schedule in the mail, I was frantically calling my limited friend list to see what classes, if any, that we had together.  One of my biggest fears was that I would walk into a class and not know a single person.  Sadly, it came true.

Upon walking into my first history class of the year, I discovered that I did not recognize anyone.  Being a few minutes early, I put my books down on the closest desk and ducked out of the room in hopes of seeing a familiar face coming down the hall.  No such luck.  When I knew that I couldn't delay it any longer, I walked back into the classroom and discovered that someone had taken all my materials and had tossed them to the ground.  To add insult to injury, everything had fresh dirty footprints all over, ruining a binder and fresh stack of paper.  The teacher was nowhere to be seen (smoke break) and several students sat in their chairs giggling at me, seemingly enjoying my pain and embarrassment.  Even as I write this, my hands are shaking just bringing it back into my memory.

Me, glasses and all

I stood there for what seemed like an eternity literally frozen.  I stared at my books but felt immobilized and not sure what to do.  People had picked on me through the years, but this was different.  They were strangers.  I had done nothing wrong except put my books down.  Yes, I did fit the ultra nerd look, but it was not my fault.  I did not choose to have bad vision and wear bottle thick glasses.  I did not choose my bad skin.  I did not choose to have my crazy out of control hair.  (I was still a year or two away from discovering hair gel.)

In the middle of my desperation, a student named Matthew Moore, stood up and became my advocate.  He came over to me and began picking up my books, even straightening out the crumpled papers that seemed beyond repair.  I stood there, still frozen watching him do this.  Once he was done, Matthew put his hand on my shoulder and said "Come on, there's a seat over here" and he took me to sit beside him.  Although still wanting to crawl under a rock, I was so relieved to have Matthew there with me.

My schedule soon changed and I moved out of the class, never to have another class with Matthew again.  Despite that, every time I passed Matthew in the hall, he always smiled at me and asked how I was doing.   No, we were not best friends and we certainly never hung out in the same social groups.  He was one of the most popular kids in school, while I was relegated to dork status, especially once I began the torturous task of getting my jacked up teeth fixed with all sorts of torture devices.

I never got the chance to thank Matthew for what he did for me that day.  If I did, I would say that he was the closest thing to a physical guardian angel that I ever had in my life.  Tragically, Matthew and another student, Seth Adams, were killed on their way back from a spring break trip to Chicago.  Their deaths sent shockwaves throughout the school and left our Senior class in shambles.

Although a long time has passed since Matthew died, I still think of him often.  What was probably to him just two or three minutes of being kind to a stranger, has in reality impacted me for the last 25 years.  Matthew left behind a quote for our literary magazine which says;

"I can only hope that the path I take in my life can create and leave some positive things for the world around me.  I know my path will be both good and bad, but I must continue forward the best I know how.  When I reach a barrier or realize a limit, I will simply gather myself fundamentally and continue."

As a teacher, I try to instill the idea of being kind to one another into my classroom.   The way that they treat each other can have a long lasting impact, either good or bad.  I begin the year by doing a journal writing activity based on Matthew's quote and telling them the story above.  Although, it is a bit uncomfortable for me to share and also embarrassing, it helps to create a personal connection with the kids.  I feel that sharing personal moments like these with the kids can help broaden and open up communication.  There is nothing wrong with showing our humanity to the kids.

I wrote earlier that I never got the chance to thank Matthew, well here it is:  Matthew, thank you for being kind.  Thank you for looking up from your desk and seeing someone in need and taking action rather than doing the easy thing and simply ignoring it.  Thank you for providing a moment that I can share with my students and even though you are gone I hope that I can keep your legacy of kindness alive so that others can learn from it.  You were taken from this world far too early but your memory remains in the hearts of your closest friends, family and a formerly scared kid that you helped when he needed it the most.

Please visit my website at One if by Land Adventures