Simplify

In Walden, Thoreau admonishes us to “Simplify.”  He explains that our lives are “frittered away by details.”  For someone who built himself a cabin in the woods in an age without electricity, simplifying meant not owning a horse and refusing to pay his poll tax. It’s still an interesting concept.

When I was younger, I used to pride myself on my independence.  I learned to cook (I had terrific grandmothers and my mother learned from some of the best), and then taught myself to prepare most of those recipes over an open fire.  Talk about simplification.  Even Henry had a stove.  He did cut his own wood.  He wasn’t living in a tent, either, but then, I was only roughing it on the weekends.  Still, “back in the good old days” meant someone had to raise or stalk the meat, do the butchering and curing, cut the wood, build the fire, then cook the vittles.  Some even had to make their own utensils, including the plates.  Pioneer women had it so easy….

These days, my simplifying usually means finding a tool that makes the job easier.  It is a bit of a conundrum that the simpler the device, the larger and more complicated the instruction manual!  Some of the newest don’t even have a manual—they rely on the entire Internet!  Just think about trying to print an instruction manual for your iPhone or other SmartPhone.

Yesterday I needed to get the leaves off the backyard.  When that colorful carpet gets to be too thick, it starts smothering the grass. Also, today my lawn service came to apply fall fertilizer and it needed to penetrate that layer of deciduous droppings.  Luckily, the weather cooperated and it didn’t rain.  There was even some sunshine.  On top of that, I had a three-day weekend.

Hauled out the Black and Decker blower/vacuum and went to work.  Plugged that thing in and spent a good hour creating a wonderful pile of brightly colored leaves.  Hello, Linus.  My son brought the grandsons over later in the afternoon.  That’s why I left the pile.  I planned to mulch the leaves with the vacuum and spread them around the shrubs that line two sides of the fence.

The boys had a great time jumping in the leaves and burying themselves.  They chased Dad around the yard, played some catch with the football, and threw a Frisbee.  When they were worn out and having a snack, I went back to clean up.  I couldn’t get the power cord out of the blower/vac.  I pulled and pulled.  Finally, it came out, along with one of the blades, which was still stuck in the plug.  I went after the rake and basket.

Next thing I knew I was going after more rakes and baskets.  Everyone pitched in.  Even the youngest picked up a leaf or two and put it in the pile.  We laughed at one another, reminisced about past episodes in the yard, and wondered what the little boys would remember of days like this one.  In short order, the pile was gone and spread around the shrubs along the fence.

I can’t remember the last time I didn’t do all of that work by myself with my simple machines.  I don’t think I’ll forget doing it the hard way yesterday; all that talking and laughing and loving every minute of it.  Simple.  (Where’s the Ibuprophen?)

Recent Graduates 101

How will you know if the objectives have been reached and the students have learned?

This is one of the questions I’ll be asked this week as part of my professional evaluation for continuing employment.  Think about this.  How do you measure success in your profession?

Did the corn you planted come up and the market allow you to make some money on the harvest?

Was your customer able to drive away in the car you repaired?

Did your patient recover?  Your client receive a fair judgment?  The diners enjoy a good meal?

My answer to that question about my success as a teacher has always been a delayed reaction.  Sure, my students can pass quizzes and tests, write well-constructed essays, intelligently analyze a piece of literature.  Now.  When they’re in my class.  They meet the objectives for our curriculum.  But does that really prove they’ve learned what I’m hoping to teach them?

Not really.  For me, those are indicators that these kids are paying attention, reading the material, experimenting with the techniques I’m teaching them, testing their intellects against one another and me.  I hope I’m teaching them a bit more than that, however.

My objectives include helping my students understand that they are learners, that they have the tools necessary to succeed in whatever they try, or at least to learn from the challenges they accept whether or not they are successful.  I hope they learn to manage their time since most of them are busy in so many extra-curricular activities, both for school and in their community.  I’m forever amazed by the extent of their involvement.

Teachers have always prized any communications from students who have graduated.  When I started teaching almost forty years ago, that meant now and then running into a former student at a school event or just around town.  Once in a while someone would come back to school just to say hello.  My, how things have changed.

I’ve been receiving occasional emails from students for a few years.   That’s been nice.  Some have sent me papers to review for them during their first comp classes.  Some have just written to say they’ve been studying something we went over, so they felt very prepared.

The last five months or so have been unique.  I have been accepting some Facebook “friend” requests from graduates.  Because of this, I’ve been keeping up with their activities and they have stayed in touch with me.  I’ve still read a few papers, but I’ve also been asked for advice about their classes, their frustrations, some choices they’ve made…and offered encouragement when being a freshman and away from home has been almost too much to handle.

So how do I measure my success?  I pass my “test” when I receive messages from kids in college who are receiving accolades from their teachers for the excellence of their writing; and the email about how they’re seeking and accepting roles as campus leaders; or the visits at school from those who graduated two or three years ago but make a point of stopping in to tell me about their plans for the future.

No, they don’t “ace” every test or always make the best decisions.  I’ve never met anyone who has.  But they learn from their mistakes.  I’m proud of all of them.

Current technology is making it easier for me to “test” myself.  I’m getting more immediate feedback.  I almost feel as if I have another class—Recent Graduates 101.  It’s one of the most fun, and it meets 24/7/365.  And I don’t mind at all.

Excuse me, my phone is ringing.

Let me get that.  I have an email from one of my sons.  My nephew just sent a text message asking for directions to my younger son’s next performance—I’ll send him a map…from my phone.  My wife wants to know what kind of bird is perched on the deck.  I’ll check the North American bird guide.  On my phone.  What was the score of last night’s Broncos game?  Let me open my ESPN application.  I need to know the yardage to the bunker from here and then to the green.  It’s available on the gps along with all the other courses I play.  What does that word mean and how is it pronounced?  Let me check the dictionary.  On my phone.  I don’t know.  Is it supposed to snow in Silverthorne this weekend?  I’ll search the weather forecast.  Where did Longfellow teach before Harvard?  I’ll Google that and let you know.  I’ll look it up on my phone.  I have a quiz over his life and poetry.  It’s a Word document on my desktop computer at home.  Let me get it.  On my phone.  This conversation is taking a little longer than I’d thought.  Excuse me, my phone is ringing.  I’d better answer.  It’s my wife.

I’m glad it’s not 8:00 AM yet.  When school starts, I have to shut off my phone just like the students do.  It’s against the rules for me to use it during the day.  Don’t tell anyone, but during my planning period and lunch (which I eat in my classroom) I check email, call my doctors’ offices and the pharmacy, sometimes check in with my wife….

I had my juniors write a persuasive essay recently.  They were to present arguments on a thesis concerning cell phone use in school.  Not surprisingly, my Honors students almost unanimously expressed well-developed rationale in favor of cell phone (especially “smart phone”) use during school hours, but recognized the need to restrict use primarily to lunch, passing periods, or down-time during class when the teacher would permit it.  They also described educational uses similar to those I have facetiously presented here.

The reality of cell phone use—again, smart phones in particular—make them today’s handheld computer, PDA, and telephone all in one handy device.  I’ve already violated school rules on several instances by using my phone enabling students to get to their email (not allowed on the school’s computer system) in order to establish accounts on the class blog; looking up information from district-blocked web sites; and finding documents I needed that were on my desktop computer at home.

I’ve been complaining about the obsolescence of available technology in schools since the personal computer was invented in the 1980s.  We’re still a decade or two behind philosophically even if we’re not that far behind with hardware.  It’s difficult to explain to students that we’re preparing them for their futures when we can’t even get them up to speed with our past.  I think they’re laughing at us.