No sabia que hables español! Que chévere! Manda saludos a Rosalía y dale un gran bienvenidos de parte de una clase aprendiendo español acá en Carolina del Sur.

Cuídense!

Chris Craft

Dan — Years (and years) ago, long before I earned the title “teacher” on any front, I was just a 14 year old kid who was volunteered by his family to be a counselor-in-training at a camp for handicapped campers sponsored by United Cerebral Palsy on a lake in central Maine. The irony of being a counselor for ‘kids’ that were often 3-5 years older than me still makes me marvel…

…but what comes to mind today (and often when I think about those 3 early summers of foundation for a soon-to-be educator) were the kids who were ‘at risk’/fearful in one environment and 100% free to explore/grow in others. In other words, if we counselors kept every kid in one environment or in one type of situation, we would undoubtedly miss their best (and most liberated) selves. Same with ESL kids (and all students, for that matter), I imagine.

One kid — in particular — was named Uriah.

Before he died a few years later in his teens due to his disability and medical conditions not being ‘in concert’ with gravity and the real world and medical question marks, he was my #1 camper for 3 straight summers. He truly defined my days, good and bad.

Without remembering the exact name his doctors used, I simply want you to imagine a wild-eyed, red-haired, fearless “drunken sailor” with leg braces and oddly shaped crutches that forced him to bend over whenever he run-limped his way at mach-speed on the concrete paths, wooden decks, and semi-rocky ‘grass’ areas that were called ball fields. He was constantly falling, constantly bleeding, and constantly picking himself up. Never complaining, but always on the verge of destruction. And all of us would cringe — like watching X-Games crash highlights — everytime Uriah would seem on the verge of yet another collapse.

But here’s what stunned me most of all…and continues to come to mind (even through a seemingly unrelated anecdote about an ESL kid being woven into a math classroom in Cali). Take Uriah’s braces and crutches away, set him up on the edge of the beach/lake, and sit back to watch what came next…and you’d find your breath literally taken away. Literally.

You see, in the water, Uriah suddenly transformed from a wild “drunken sailor” of a kid on the verge of perpetual runs to the hospital into an elegant dolphin that radiated laughter, speed, and grace. Every. Single. Time. In other words, his body and spirit was free to move in any direction for any reason in ways that were literally transformative for a kid that gravity held prisoner. Sort of like language. Sort of like an educational practice that may not be an ideal fit for a particular learning style. So to speak.

While I’d like to think that ‘camp’ in general gave this kid something priceless that far outweighed the life of economic poverty and seemingly insurmountable physical challenges he faced the rest of the year at school and at home, the truth was that even with our best of intentions and ‘program design’…we often held him back from the best parts of him because our own program could ONLY be water-based when the schedule allowed. We knew our camping program worked for the majority of kids who fit the majority of descriptions. And we hoped that kids like Uriah would somehow fit inside our comfort zones and not demand that we re-think the very premise of our logistics, mechanisms, activities, and space designs.

And I’ve never stopped thinking about what a camp that was designed to help a kid like Uriah be remarkable would have looked like…and how we would have ran it. Especially if it would have extended his young life even a single summer. Even a single week. In spite of the challenges that the rest of the world brought his way day in and day out.

Especially if we had been truly brave/forward-thinking.

Had we been truly remarkable, had we been truly visionary, had we been truly gifted, we would have figured out a way to let that kid swim like a dolphin 90% of the time…and let his laughter guide us. Our ‘system’ and program would not have been at risk, nor the profound ‘historical precident’ of summer camping foundations/history/logic.

Sadly, he died a few years later when his body gave out…on land. Not even close to a dolphin that was but a few crawling steps away from the edge of that one summer beach.

Dan, you often contemplate/talk about the conflict between (for a lack of better language, my friend) ‘traditional’ educators and the ‘school 2.0’ minions. While semantics invites friction by its very nature of being a rhetorical device, I think that you have written as strong a unifying statement as I’ve read in a long, long time, my friend (if you care to find common ground, rather than to find one ultimate “future of learning” fighting champion when the dust settles). As you wrote about Rosalia, your class, and what you realized:

“I speak slower. I gesture more. I use more pictures. I enunciate better. Etc. Etc.”

Without arguing over lectures vs. wikis, I think you hit the ball out of the park (by intention, accident, divine intervention, serendipity, or simply because I elect to force the simile). It ain’t about one vs. the other. It’s about all and all and all and all…by any means necessary.

Whether it’s a red-haired wonder at a Maine summer camp in the early 80’s or a ESL transfer in a 2007 California math classroom, whether its about a dyed-in-the-wool educator fighting for professional respect or a wild-eyed provocateur ranting about new tech/pedagogy, at the end of the day it always comes down to what YOU did NATURALLY for Rosalia…and because of what Rosalia did NATURALLY for you.

Politics or semantics aside, the key learning/teaching battle ain’t really about what we think or argue in the faculty lounge or across blog lines. Its ultimately ONLY about one teacher doing whatever it takes for one student and one class, day in and day out..and pushing the classic boundaries by any means necessary, without apology or fear.

Call yourself a traditional pugilist or a closeted 2.0 guy, a pugilist, Dan, but the point always comes down to whether you honor the possibilities of what can happen when nobody is watching/listening ‘cept you and those marvelous young minds surrounding you.

All the best to Rosalia, her sister, the rest of their classmates, and you (my friend). Enjoy the adventure shifting the plates between two language continents. And thanks for letting us have a nearby seat to watch the show.

Cheers from Tejas – Christian

Dan — Man, I handed you a (legit) compliment and you still Clockwork Orange swung at it. Oh, and added a rarely charged “food pyramid” second punch just to see if the ketchup would be considered an honest educational vegetable in the blog lunchroom line.

Why do I think you’re just about ready to string up the Maslow self-actualization pinata soon for added good measure (and graph)?

Taking a second look at the draft score card, the judges have re-added the coordinating grid coordinates. Turns out you win. Heck, it turns after a bit of reconsideration to ONLY be about semantics, politics, and winner-take-all’s, after all. Mea culpe.

In the meantime, I still think you’re good people with a soft side that would make both Achilles and the Staypuff Marshmallow Man envious. And the original compliment? Yeah, that was sincerely well earned, Dan,…even if the metaphor has infinitely shifty soil beneath its feet at the Bonanza buffet counter.

Cheers from the Swiss border.
C

P.S. I have an upcoming lecture planned on the Romantic Period in advance of my 10th grade kiddos opening Shelley’s “Frankenstein” before T’giving Break. Probably going to ask them to take notes, too. Probably be an one-way expert for a stretch, without asking their opinion or if they want to “differently” construct an individualized learning project in either analog or digital terms. Might even concoct a quiz, add an in-class essay, or put forward the basic framework for a culminating test. All fair game, to be truthful. Not even going to ask if the kids “want” to learn about the Kubla or Chaka Kahn in “Ozymandius” time; thinking about just asking them to read it ‘just in case’ it comes up in a future A.P. test or in an imaginary college lecture hall. And the kicker? Not going to feel one intellectual ounce of guilt about it either. Might even tap my red pen the entire time.

And smirk at the irony of it all.

Wouldn’t it be funny if the straw man really were made of straw? Or at least a bit of Oz-like metaphor?

P.P.S. Again, the original compliment — with regards to your take-away’s with Rosilia — was offered legitimately. No hidden sarcasm or challenge on any front. Perhaps the hair-trigger needs a safety. On occasion. Just for S’s-n-G’s.

P.P.P.S. The food pyramid, BTW, has been facing a bit of scrutiny as of late. As a metaphor it holds up; in reality, however, it may need a few historical props to remain ever-ready to make a point. I’ll take “poignant” over “accurate” anytime. Storytelling never needed accuracy. Just a camp fire, decent eye contact, a bit of imagination, and a willingness to go somewhere new.

Kind of like a decent film or TV script, n’est-ce pas?

In New York, we call children who don’t speak English as a primary language English Language Learners or English as a Second Language students. As someone who teaches both (and can speak fluent Spanish) it’s great to hear just how much effort you’ve put into Rosalia. That’s very encouraging, and it’s something that so many teachers won’t do, even in diverse populations. I’m excited for the possibilities in your classroom.

Also, it’s good to see that the rest of your kids were more accepting of the diversity in the classroom, where they might not have gotten it before either in their neighborhoods or their schools. It’s just as big a culture shock for Rosalia as it is for your students. Keep up the good work, dan.

I’m on it. Thanks.

I’ll echo a previous comment w/r/t to how effective ELL and SpEd instructional practices are simply good teaching. All this stuff ought to be built into a lesson, not as something that fills that “how I differentiate” box on the lesson plan template, but rather as a fundamental approach to teaching anything.

You and I are living on opposite ends of ELL world, Dan. This year I’m teaching three (3) students whose first and primary langauge is English. That’s the most native English speakers I’ve ever had at one time.

Four years of high school Spanish.

Eight years of South Florida residency.

One summer in Peru.

But yeah, *I’m* the one who is undergoing language immersion.

I think it is so wonderful that your students are so accepting of this new student but I have to commend you for setting up this environment. Students follow the lead of their teacher and your acceptance and willingness to accommodate her made it clear to your class that it was expected of them also. Kudos to you for obviously being a great teacher!