"All this happened, more or less."

As a newcomer to the 2017 NWP and NCTE conferences, I walked around in a perpetual state of astonishment and sensory overload. The one refrain that reverberated through my mind, other than “free books,” was the concept of Tikkun Olum , roughly translated as “repair the world.” First conveyed during the NWP plenary and repeated by several presenters throughout the NCTE conference, I had heard this phrase previously through my Holocaust studies coursework at UT Dallas and through training with the Holocaust Educator Network. The phrase represents a belief which I hold dear, but hearing it again from a variety of presenters at the conferences underscored just how important it is for each of us to repair the parts of the world in which we live. Teachers have the unique opportunity to encourage young people to do the same, as most of us see over one hundred children daily throughout the school-year and spend more time with them, on average, than the other adults in

Writing can be extremely cathartic. How cool would it be if we captured an experience (positive or negative) each day through poetry? I had fun venting about one of my pet peeves in this poem I jotted in my journal in-between awkward encounters during which I had to tell people who wanted to sit by me that the empty seat was being saved. I grew increasingly tired of feeling awkward as I watched their expressions change to disappointment as they walked away. All of us do this from time to time. I have asked it of friends twice in the past week, but beware of expecting your friends to do this regularly. Who knows? You could end up the subject of such a poem:

A Man Called Ove reminds me of the protagonist in Disney Pixar’s Up , if only that cantankerous old man had been trying to kill himself throughout the story. Ove, pronounced ooh-vuh , cannot let injustices – like choosing a BMW over a Saab – go unchallenged. He lashes out at those who lack what, in his mind, amounts to common sense and decency.  Much to Ove’s dismay, every time he methodically plans to do himself in, he is interrupted by oblivious neighbors. As we journey with Ove through his life via a sequence of flashbacks, we are reminded that no one becomes so sullen without facing adversity and experiencing loss. Through Ove’s recollections of his wife, we learn that Ove’s capacity for love is boundless. Descriptions of how she curled her fingers into his palm made me wonder what little habits I have that my husband notices, and I became more mindful of the special mannerisms he has. I would only recommend this book to mature readers. Though the

Last year, I blogged about the importance of teaching students “ how  to think – not  what  to think” in a post titled “ Teaching in a Heated Political Climate .” I still firmly believe that students should be taught to analyze rhetoric, obtain news from multiple and varied sources, and most importantly to know  why  they think what they think. I want them to understand media and political biases and also to understand their own. I want them to realize when they are being manipulated. Knowledge and literacy = power. I still perceive my role as one of facilitator, as mediator, and quite often as devil’s advocate as a means for evoking thoughtful dialogue, debate, and mutual understanding. In my previous post, I posed these questions: How can I satisfy any of those roles if I am working toward a specific political agenda?  How many parents want their kids’ teachers telling them which candidate they should vote for? And then the election rhetoric went wild. This isn’t the first

I wrote this at the end of the school-year while my students were writing. Can you tell I was stressed? Teachers will understand the "interruption fatigue" of which I write here: “Background Noise” by Amber Counts Someone’s nose whistles As another clicks the push-button on his pen. The air conditioner kicks on in a powerful hum: Gale-force winds in miniature To take the place of fresh air Blast from the depths of dusty vents. A tone, followed by an announcement: “Pardon this interruption, teachers…” A cell phone goes off, and another – This one on silent, but its vibration just as loud. I try to recall what point I wanted to make, But the door creaks open. An aide walks in with a note. The girl quietly snoring And drooling on her desk Doesn’t notice. All other eyes are on me As I assess the note And thank the aide for his interruption.

A couple of years ago, my daughter and I had the privilege of hearing engineer, physician, astronaut, actress, and dancer Mae Jemison speak at UT Dallas. She asked those who believed they were right-brained to raise their hands. Photo credit: wikipedia.org I raised my hand. Next, she asked those who believed they were left-brained to raise their hands. I kept my hand in the air. Not knowing where this was going, I expected the classical argument about how one hemisphere rules each of us more than the other, and that we should cater to that side. Waiting for Jemison’s response, I mused… How many times do teachers hear students confirm “I’m a math person” or “English just isn’t my thing” or “I can’t draw”? By high school, students have categorized themselves according to what they believe they can and can’t do, and school sometimes reinforces these foolish notions by separating content areas by subject, curriculum design, and even areas of the building.

Wiping the tears from my eyes as I closed the book, I realized that what I loved most about Nicola Yoon’s YA novel The Sun is Also a Star is its idealistic affirmation that soul-mates exist and that true love can form quickly. Maybe I’m biased because, like the main characters Natasha and Daniel, I fell in love with my partner in crime of almost 30 years within a day. I can only assume that Yoon has felt the power of such a deep connection herself due to her realistic description of this phenomenon. As I read, I imagined how many people might react more skeptically or pessimistically to such a premise, but Yoon weaves science and poetry together to explain such an occurrence. Through Natasha’s perfectly scientific and quantifiable observations and Daniel’s poetic and hopelessly romantic approach to life, we learn that love can be defined by both chemistry and magic. Yoon incorporates recent studies that find that discussing deep thoughts, important conc

A few years ago, I had the opportunity to participate in a North Star of Texas Writing Project summer institute. The colleague who recommended me for the program informed me of the impact that the experience would have on my teaching, but I had no idea that I would come to define my career by pre- and post-workshop.   Not only did I write like I hadn’t written in years – both in terms of variety of genres and in sheer quantity – but I also formed deep connections with teachers across content areas. I remembered what it feels like to be a student and a writer. I learned how authentic reading and writing workshop works miracles. This corresponded with my chosen inquiry. As a fairly new AP English literature teacher whose conscious didn’t feel at peace with a narrow test-prep approach with a standard survey of British literature, I researched the pedagogical principles that supported choice in the classroom. I sought to incorporate choice into a workshop-based AP course that w