Several times throughout the summer, I started hauling in books and supplies from home into my classroom. I took some time clearing through some old papers and files. But I never really got around to cleaning my room properly. Here’s what my room looked like at the end of August:

If I learned anything from Blink, it’s that first impressions make a huge impact. And the first things students notice is your room. Blink actually cites a study where people accurately made judgments about the personality of strangers based a quick look-through of their dorm rooms.

My reformed room after the jump…
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I’ve been chewing over Borderland’s post on Emergence, in which he makes the point that the classroom is a complex system.

A good (long and crunchy) introduction to complexity theory can be found here.

Another blog I frequent that’s intensely interested in complex systems is Dave Pollard’s How to Save the World, and, as it happens, he’s also recently put up a post on emergence.

I remember the importance of systems thinking first hitting me when I read Peter Senge’s Fifth Discipline. His book Schools That Learn has been sitting on my “to finish” bookshelf forever. The big takeaway I remember is the importance of finding and (gingerly) applying points of leverage — with the attitude that living, breathing dynamic systems are like spinning plates, requiring constant observation, reflection, and vigilance.

Important to remember as I put together my grandiose plans for the year. You prep and prep, think and think, but then you just have to let it fly and let it go.

Now let’s consider what I dare to envision the actual classes to be like.

Blah Blah Blogs

For me, Language Arts is fundamentally about improving the quality of input and output. I guess that could be true of most subjects, but English emphasizes the medium of language. Everything in my class is about improving comprehension and literacy on one end and communication and expression on the other. I take comprehension to mean basic fluency in language and normative understandings of literal meanings. Literacy is a more sophisticated affair involving the critical discernment of meaning and context within a specific genre of communication. I take communication to mean articulate conveyance of intended meaning. Not necessarily easier or harder, but different, is creative self-expression which, for my purposes here, I’ll say involves employing rhetorical techniques to unexpected or ambiguous effects that somehow seem aesthetically or emotionally truthful.

Now most English teachers, myself included, generally teach these four areas as distinct skill sets. We read a text bit-by-bit, all the while going over major events and characters, perhaps tossing in a few pop quizzes. We then have our wonderful discussions about what the book is really about and go over themes and motifs. We have lessons on how to write the five-paragraph expository essay and include essay prompts with our multiple-choice tests. Finally, we assign a project, perhaps involving some creative writing or a small-group presentation. Vocabulary and grammar are sprinkled throughout as a kind of close study of the medium itself at its finest granularity.

This is not a bad way to go, and it’s worked for me for the past few years. I teach specific skills that fall under the broader ideals of my discipline. I cover the stuff that everybody else will continue to recursively cover, like a spiraling Babel to the heavens. Slowly and surely, brick-by-brick, most students handle inputs better and produce better outputs. At least in institutionally required ways.

But I think I may be missing an opportunity here. The literary texts we study are artifacts and models of these processes. They themselves “read” life and culture and then challenge us with newly artful levels of technique and meaning. They give us not only the occasions, but also the examples, to learn the communicative strategies they employ — so that we can understand and do the same. All writers start as readers — and students of what they read — and then at some point decide to jump into the conversation.

Conversation. Because what’s missing is what’s between the input and the output. The urge to respond, to engage. It’s the grail of all communication, including teaching; you want to say something that effects a change. You want to add something to the transcript that has a bearing on what follows after you. You want to be slashdotted, dugg, and deemed del.icio.us.

You might see where I’m going with this. I’ve been trying to incorporate blogs into my classroom ever since I was hired at this school — usually with fairly piddling results. They seemed so perfect in addressing the shifting literacies of our culture with their power to publish and interact, and yet they never found a comfortable fit with everything else I had going on.

But I’ve been re-thinking my entire approach, and I think I’m getting close to being able to articulate a new model, one that I hope will get me closer to the fundamental aims of my calling.

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I want to start my “vision statement” with the kind of impression I want to make upon my students. How do I want them to feel about the Teacher Tom experience?

First Impressions

I’ve learned that first impressions are critical, and so I’ll be meticulously planning out my first few weeks. I want students to feel that I am in control, and that I have a very clear set of boundaries and expectations. I want to dominate the game early and keep pressing and setting the pace. That said, I also want students to get the impression that my class is streamlined — that I’m not about making them jump through hoops or suffering through B.S.

In the Thick

Over time, I’d like students to realize that I’m on their side, that I want each of them to succeed and learn and grow. I’d like each student to feel like I recognize them as a unique individual, and that I let them play to their strengths while addressing their difficulties. I’d like them to feel like I am helpful, available, and understanding. But I’d also like them to feel like I am exacting, challenging, and relentless. I’d like my classes to have a “serious fun” vibe — full of substance and energy. Finally, I’d like students to feel that as much as I expect them to do their jobs, I do mine — that I always come prepped and ready.

Rear-View

I’d like students to feel, in hindsight, that they learned some valuable things and that I maintained the continuity of their academic career. I’d like students to feel like I prepared them for the next year, and maybe even beyond that.

I figure the next step in preparation is to have a clear idea of the goals I have for myself as a teacher and for my classroom. “Vision” might be a better term than goals; a goal connotes a specific metric that’s achieved, while a vision suggests more a clarity of purpose, a foresight of direction.

Let’s start with an assessment of my current situation.

Here I Am

This is going to be my fourth year at my current school, an esteemed Quaker private school in the outskirts (but not yet suburbs) of Philadelphia. I had a rough first year, but every subsequent year I’ve felt more and more comfortable with the community of the school. My reputation among the students and families, I think, has also improved over time. The sixth graders I taught my first year here are now entering their first year of the upper school, and it was satisfyingly bittersweet to see them graduate at the end of this past June.

Teaching Team

This coming school year, I’ll be taking on three seventh grade classes and only one eighth grade class. It’s understood that I’ll be the lead teacher for the seventh grade English program and an active, but ultimately subordinate, contributor to the eighth grade team. I’ve taught seventh grade for my entire term here and only began to teach eighth grade for the first time last year.

Though the seventh and eighth grade English teachers generally work much more independently than the sixth grade Language Arts team, there’s been a push (at least since the time I’ve arrived) to coordinate our efforts and expectations to be more in sync with one another. That’s generally meant that we could (and should) collaborate on making major assessments that could be roughly equally applicable across our classrooms.

The thing is, each of my co-workers are very unique teachers in their own right. I say that with the utmost respect; it just means that it takes constant thought and trial-and-error to find a level and kind of collaboration that we can all be comfortable with. The dynamics of the teams are constantly in flux, with the assigned roles and responsibilities of each teacher shifting from year-to-year — and more often than that.

Add to that some fundamental changes in the administration, and it’s tempting to play it safe and go with already established routines and activities. Too bad I’m practically allergic to such a mentality.

The Schedule

We follow a fairly complicated block schedule in my middle school. What it generally means for me is that for each class I will normally teach a forty-minute session once a day, except once a week I’ll teach an hour-long session. And once every two weeks, I won’t teach that class at all.

Generally this also means that I’ll occasionally have days where I teach for marathon stretches throughout the entire day, and I’ll also have days where I face long stretches of open-ended preparation time, and I’ll have plenty of days in between those two extremes.

From my experience, there’s been one more consequence of our complicated schedule: it’s pretty difficult to schedule regular times of meaningful collaboration.

Strengths and Weaknesses

I think my strength lies in my passion for my subject and for instruction. I’m constantly brimming with pedagogical ideas, and I love analyzing and discussing the texts we read. I’m intensely interested in exploring technological and interdisciplinary opportunities within my classroom, and I work well with my peers. I also think I do a pretty good job in explaining things clearly, and perhaps I enjoy doing that a little too much.

Weaknesses: I’m not very good at administrative work, and I’m a slow and reluctant grader. I also do a lousy job of managing my energy; I’ll often have manic bursts of productivity in which I’ll often overcommit to too many things and then struggle to stay enthusiastic in crashing moments of exhaustion, self-doubt, and even illness.

As a teacher, most people — including students — find me pretty personable. I’d say, on average, I’m flexible, fair, and… fun? That may be going too far.

Seventh vs. Eighth

The seventh grade English program centers around the theme of “People in Places” and strives to emphasize geography and setting. Last year we did several major projects for this curriculum that were, uh, unwieldy. However, I feel the curriculum is one of the most cohesive among any of the grades and constantly presents some interesting possibilities.

Not having taught the sixth grade last year, I’m not familiar with the seventh grade class and only really know them by their reputation (which has been… mmmm…. spotty).

I have interacted with many of the incoming eighth graders before, and so I have the advantage of having a past rapport with that class.

The eighth grade English curriculum centers around a year-long Memoirs project that involves writing and anthologizing a number of short personal vignettes throughout the year. It ends up being a rather major undertaking that’s almost been a rite-of-passage for the eighth graders. Unfortunately, the teacher who headed and originated this project is no longer with us, and it’ll be interesting to see what direction this project will take now that he’s gone.

Break It Down

Both the seventh and eighth grade curriculum is dominated by units of literature study. We typically read six or seven major texts, devoting about 3-5 weeks per text. Most of that time is devoted to reading and discussing the literature; students are expected to read 20 pages a day. There’s typically a week or so given to a project or major writing assignment with a unit test at the end. These projects are typically where students get to explore interdisciplinary connections, technology, or creative expression. Sometimes, if appropriate, there’s also a movie or field trip at the end of a unit.

We are also expected to do weekly instruction on vocabulary and grammar.

Technology

My classroom has a PC computer attached to the school network, Smartboard, and projector. I also have my personal Macbook, which takes advantage of the school wifi network, and I’ve also come into the possession of an old iMac G4 with an Epson scanner, which does not yet have a wifi card. I’ll be able to reserve the use of a school computer lab or a mobile cart of laptops — though not all day every day, of course.

And One More Thing

Knock on wood, I’ll be a dad at the end of November. I’ve announced that I want to take my three-week paternity leave then, which almost takes me to Winter Break. That means I’ll be incognito for almost an entire unit.

So I got up at 5:30 this morning, did a little busywork, hopped on my bike (still drizzling outside), rode to the end of the block,…

and turned right back around.

Suffice it to say my groin was buzzing yesterday and now it’s screaming. I’m a little “saddle-sore.”

Tomorrow it is, then.

Today was Day One in my intense preparation for school. What did I do?

I rode my bike to school.

Don’t guffaw. For a guy that didn’t exercise all summer long and let every muscle in his body atrophy, this is a big deal. And I did it in a light drizzle. I was telling my body and my psyche that this was for real; get thee behind me procrastination.

I set up my laptop at school, printed some stuff out, popped my head in my boss’s office, and then pedaled back home. Watch out tomorrow — Day Two, you’re next.