"All this happened, more or less."

We’ve all heard that dreadfully incorrect phrase that exclaims “those who can’t do , teach.” I won’t elaborate on all the reasons why that condescending statement is woefully wrong here; talented professionals before me have tackled that notion. However, I will say that most teachers consider the profession a “calling.” That might sound clichéd, but only intrinsic rewards, true dedication, and a dash of idealism drive highly educated professionals to actively pursue a career with a relatively low income compared to educational level, time commitment, lack of adequate respect, and daily challenges and complexities. Clearly, teaching isn’t a soft option when it comes to career choice. Because I teach at the secondary level, almost all of the teachers are experts in their field. Our APUSH teacher has a master’s degree in history, for instance. Not only that, but he has rich life experiences including world travel that allow him to share real-world examples and his passion for the subje

“Through the years we all will be together / if the fates allow / hang a shining star upon the highest bow.” These song lyrics are bittersweet to me. I hear them every year from late October through the New Year – in supermarkets, shopping malls, and on the car radio. In some renditions, singers focus on singing technically well. They sound bright. Hopeful. Festive. Ready to deck the halls with boughs of holly. In other recordings, you can hear the skillful and subtle touch of melancholy in these words – melancholy that echoes the pain, remembrance, and ultimately, healing that these lyrics represent in my life. I did not get to see my dad often when I was young. He lived in California while I lived in Texas, and my mom actively worked to keep us apart. As I entered 5 th grade, my parents reached a compromise. If we would move to California and grant my dad visitation, he would pay our rent and bills. It was an offer my mom couldn’t refuse. Not only did we have a quaint apar

One of my favorite feelings in the world occurs when I learn something from my students. Not only do I enjoy learning, but it shows that they are thinking, making connections between my course and their lives, and that they feel comfortable sharing their knowledge. Recently, my students read “A Dog for Rock,” a short story by Mauro Senesi. As we discussed the story and its themes in class, one of my students mentioned that the story reminded her of a Simon and Garfunkel song titled “I am a Rock.” The word “rock” aside, I asked Katie how the story and song connected in her mind, and she proceeded to share her insight about the song’s meaning. It didn’t take long for her to inspire me to listen to the song as soon as possible. Though I had been a fan of the album that featured the song for decades, that particular song had escaped my attention until Katie brought it into my life. During my conference period, I pulled up the song on YouTube and listened to the singer-songwriters croo

Recently, I was asked why I “felt qualified” to select texts for my students to read and who gave me “the authority” to do so. Deep breath. This question wasn’t posed by a student – a 12 th -grader suffering from a slight case of cynicism and a touch of senioritis – no, it was posed by a community member. I calmly replied: I have a degree in Literary Studies and graduated at the top of my class. As a teacher certified in ELA 8-12, G/T, and ESL education, I have pedagogical knowledge on which I base curricular decisions. I am an avid reader, and I continue my research on literacy and the education of literature, from the canon to Young Adult content. I attend more training sessions than required, by far, to stay current on best practices and strategies. In preparation for the AP exam and a well-rounded education, I consistently update my curriculum with new information from the AP exam, feedback from AP essay-readers, and other experienced AP teachers. I also consider student feed

          You hear it all the time, if you're listening - Holocaust survivors are fewer every day; soon, only recordings and memories of their testimonies will remain. Sadly, this is true. As I listened to Max Glauben discuss his experiences in the Warsaw Ghetto, imprisonment in four concentration camps, and the murder of his family, I understood the responsibility that came with bearing witness to his story. We must nurture empathy for all people in all people we interact with by sharing the best and worst of our human history. As Max spoke, I appreciated his ability to find humor and beauty in the world and share those gifts with us. I marveled in the little details - the things you don't learn from books.           I took some notes as Max spoke, and my notes are marked by some roughly drawn cherries. You see, I found that a lot of what I wrote represented the facts: dates, locations, Max's age at liberation. In essence, I copied down the more standard details in a

Late last night, or rather early this morning, I finished reading Erik Larson's In the Garden of Beasts . I purchased this book with nothing to go on but my interest in WWII history and satisfaction with other works by Erik Larson - notably Devil in the White City and Isaac's Storm . I was not disappointed. Those seeking a more shocking account of the atrocities committed during the war might be disappointed, for this book tells the story of the U.S. ambassador to Germany and his family during Hitler's rise to power. Ambassador Dodd was not the popular choice for the post, and his daughter Martha's zest for romantic encounters and her generally free spirit raised some eyebrows. She cavorted with young Nazi officers and a Russian spy alike, and it's worth noting that it is a mark of her time that her character is called into question for merely behaving almost as brashly as the men around her. Ultimately, Martha and Ambassador Dodd see the true and horrific nature

Recently, I faced the solemn task of trying to capture in words all that my grandmother meant to me. I felt honored to honor her at her funeral service, but I did worry about what to share; how much of my personal connection with my grandmother should be discussed versus an overall tribute that everyone would recognize as the woman they knew and loved? Ultimately, I decided that the same traits that made her such an incredibly loving force in my life would be instantly recognizable to others as what they knew about my grandma. Three of us spoke at the service, each with a different approach, and I think that, together, we did the best we could to capture the compassion, wit, and love that my grandmother exemplified. Some friends asked me to share what I wrote, so it follows here: 3 6 9 0 9 8 7. Imagine the numbers on a phone’s touchpad. 3 6 9 0 9 8 7.             “There’s an easy way to remember this if you ever need me,” my grandma told me.             She guided my tiny fi

I just finished Uri Orlev's novel Run, Boy, Run . It relates the true (yet partially fictionalized) account of a young Jewish boy who fights to survive during WWII against all odds.   Being fairly well-versed in Holocaust literature and memoirs, I understand that many survivors have seemingly impossible stories. Impossible because of the depths of evil that occurred and impossible because of the strength, courage, and perseverance of others. Yet these events did occur, and it's important that the world does not forget.   This is where I felt disappointed with the book. It has the abstract feeling of inauthenticity. It just doesn't quite ring true, and I feel like this does a disservice to the very real survivor depicted in the novel. I understand that some holes in the story must be filled in with the best information possible, but I don't feel that this has been seamlessly done here. Maybe I've been spoiled by Erik Larson.   Here's the problem: Goo

You Can’t Buy an Aztec Pyramid at Kmart! By Amber Counts Of all the teachers who shaped me, for better or worse, there are a few I wish I could speak with now that I am an adult. I was fortunate enough to tell two of my favorites just how much they meant to me before they retired, and I’m still trying to track down my high school biology teacher, Mr. Reichle, though I fear he is no longer with us, to tell him how much his encouragement, expectations, and enthusiasm still mean to me. However, there is one teacher with whom I would have a very different conversation if given the chance.             In Spanish I, we were asked to construct a cultural or architectural artifact from an ancient culture that once existed in a region that currently speaks Spanish. Inspired by their architecture, I decided to construct an Aztec pyramid. I studied pictures in encyclopedias and library books and bought supplies at the craft store with money I had earned babysitting.             Bas

This past weekend, I completed a 30ish page research essay. The road to completion was paved with tears and blocked by the most random acts of procrastination. My research concluded, my essay successful, what I really learned from my three-day writing spree is that I have an almost infinite capacity for distraction and procrastination. Here are some of the clever ideas I had while I was supposed to be focused on writing: Hair's up - time to write! #1 My hair is my kryptonite. I simply cannot be expected to write if my hair is down. If, at any point, I realize that my hair is down, I must stop writing immediately - even if I'm in the middle of the most brilliant line ever written - and go style my hair so it's pulled back from my face. Super-typing nails...'click' 'click' 'click' #2 I can't be expected to type page after page with nails that can break, so obviously I need to stop writing and immediately visit the nail salon

This is a very general overview of the research I have been conducting on merging the writing workshop model with the AP Literature classroom. Choice in reading and writing are great, but can we give students ample choice and still prepare them for a rigorous exam? Why yes, yes we can! I would especially like to thank Amy Rasmussen, who began this inquiry long before I did and has applied the workshop model, to the benefit of her students, in the AP Language classroom. I couldn't ask for a better mentor and friend. My resource list is only briefly displayed. Please contact me if you would like a copy.

Whither Thou Goest, I will Go                 In the summer of 1992, time stood still. Others might not have noticed this phenomenon, but I experienced one perfect day, deceptively simple. I lived only in that moment: safe and loved and happy. My wedding vow to Erik contained the promise, “whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge,” and as an Air Force wife, I came to know all that those words entailed. Erik’s first assignment was to a small Air Force base in California. I enthusiastically moved to the golden state with expectations of grand adventures, yet found myself not near Los Angeles, nor San Francisco, nor anywhere fascinating like that, but in a little town in the middle of the state called Atwater. The town was dismal. It wasn’t special geographically, culturally, or historically, and its only claims to fame were its small military base and its proximity to Modesto – the birthplace of George Lucas. However glum my initial expectations of an

While I have changed my friend's name to protect her anonymity, the story below depicts an actual event that occurred when I was in 2nd grade. The fragmented thought, lingering questions, and feelings of doubt therefore reflect my state of mind at that point as well as how I remember it when I look back on the memory over three decades later. Rock, Paper, Scissors By Amber Counts   I can’t believe I lost rock-paper-scissors. It’s not really fair anyway because I don’t know how to play. Jenny learned from her older brother. She must know some secret I don’t. The game can’t be as simple as that, can it? It’s so hot outside. Cooling off in the creek seemed like a good idea, but walking home to get us some water – the result of losing the bet – my jeans are plastered to my legs in an uncomfortable way, chafing as I walk uphill towards my apartment. Sloshing waist-deep in water all day looking for crawfish and pretty rocks, but not being able to drink the water, is really i

A few of you asked me to post this, so here it is. This poem might be a bit corny, but I think it reflects the fun and joyous attitude that Marla brings to our writing workshop while still being a respectable Doctor, full of knowledge and skills that she shares in the spirit of collaboration. Marla is truly an inspiration! For those of you who weren't with us, the apple puns correlated with a delicious baked apple breakfast pastry, courtesy of Whitney Kelley. Dr. Marla, We congratulate you on earning your Ph.D.! They say an apple a day keeps the doctor away, but we think the opposite is true when the doctor is also a teacher. So here’s an apple for the teacher, Doctor, and friend. You are the apple of our eye, the best of the bunch, the cream of the crop. You have the sophistication of a pink lady and the sharp wit of a granny smith. You’re as sweet as pie. You’re good to your core. Your knowledge is bountiful. We know you would turnove

I began the North Star of Texas National Writing Project summer institute with a burning question in mind: how can I incorporate a writing workshop model into an AP Literature classroom? Abhorrent to a test-prep approach to teaching, though fully aware of my responsibilities to enable students to succeed on the high-stakes AP exam that marks the culmination of the course, I endeavor to teach the necessary skills and facilitate students' acquisition of knowledge in a way that feels authentic despite the standardized testing parameters. This is a tall order. Students need to know what to expect on the AP examination. There is nothing like it in the world of daily reading and writing. For those of you who are not familiar with the structure, students read 4-5 passages, a combination of prose and poetry, and complete 55 high-level multiple choice questions within an hour. Next, they write 3 essays in 2 hours based on poetry, prose, and the "open-ended" prompt for which the

It's important to know how to read cursive writing. Reading cursive is not important in the age of computers. Most of us type, anyway. Knowing how to spell words properly is important so that students can clearly communicate what they mean. As long as a student can right-click and select the appropriate word, he or she will be alright. Writing legibly is imperative and indicative of eye-hand coordination and a sophisticated mind. Doctors are notorious for writing sloppily and are successful nonetheless. These are just a few of the differing viewpoints shared by teachers of different grade-levels and content areas during our writing workshop today. Clearly, we are in an age of transition, but isn't education always in such a state of flux? The rapid rate of technology growth since the computer revolution is responsible for many of the dilemmas we face in education today, but teachers have grappled with similar changes since long before the digital age. My daughte

Okay, so I have to admit something. I've heard about this poem and assignment combination before, and while I know it has merit for students in classrooms ranging from elementary to secondary, I wanted to throw a temper-tantrum when asked to write one myself. I could hear my inner child exclaim "I don't wanna!" After listing memories in several different categories, I felt the too-often experienced pang of knowing that most of my early memories range from fairly dark to outright tragic. The very fact that I have worked to create a new reality in my adult life and a new type of family for my children makes it difficult for me to revisit some of my earlier memories. I don't like to dwell though I acknowledge that it is important to know where I come from. So, there you have it; I ultimately talked myself into completing the template and resultant poem. Here are the results: Where I’m From by Amber Counts   I am from music, from alternative rock and melanch