Watching Movies In School

In my last two years teaching, I had a class in which we watched movies. Casablanca, Jaws, Rear Window, whatever I thought might be good that they hadn't seen. Watching movies, that's all we did. No tests, quizzes, reports, or lectures. I talked a little about willing suspension of disbelief, showed them why certain scenes were great, and answered any questions, but mostly we just watched movies.

Had this been early in my career, I'd likely have felt guilty about watching movies without any academic activity attached. As it went, I felt no guilt because the admins were screwing us teachers and kids every possible way. I was so burned out and the kids were so poorly served, it was all we could do to survive and get through the day.

Three years removed from terrible, abusive place, I realize it was actually a pretty great class.

Here's something about teaching: most of the tests and lectures is meant to justify what's being done and hold kids accountable. It justifies to admins why the teacher is showing a movie. Accountability is a euphamism for keeping kids in line — watch the movie or fail the unit. It's a game

The kids in those classes actually watched the movies. Okay, one kid put his head down and fake-snored just to show me I couldn't make him do anything, but he was a wrecked kid who'd have just failed any quizzes and tests I had inflicted. The rest of the kids mostly were into it. They suggested movies, asked why I'd chosen some, told me what they thought of each one.

By end of year they'd seen some good movies. A couple documentaries, one movie with subtitles that they hated, some westerns, lots of suspense, great comedy, a few action movies, a couple in black and white, and whatever else I threw at them. Things they wouldn't have seen otherwise.

Isn't that what school is supposed to do?

Only that one kid failed and that's because he wanted to. The rest passed with A's.

Here's something else about teaching and learning: Teaching is ridiculously easy, but helping people learn is the hardest work there is. Most grades and tests are all about teaching not learning. My movie class grew out of me needing to survive but ended up being all about learning.

Don't know why I thought of all this, but it reminds me of the good in teaching and helps me forget how schools screw all that up. When it's about the kids and not at all about the admins or politicians, it mostly just works.

Fat In The Moment

A man stares at his too-large belly. He's tired of middle age. From the wall, he takes down all the calendars. So many. He pages back toward the year of his birth. Waits for a young man to appear. A boy. A child. An unimagineable baby. But no. It's just him there still. His too-large belly and middle age. Stuck on one page of one calendar. Stuck on one box on that page. Passing through one moment within that box. He shakes his head hard. Flips ahead now. Pages after pages. Calendars after calendars. Waiting for a changed man to appear. Another unimagineable. But still it's just him. Just this moment. Carrying the weight of his expectations and desires. No one else is coming to take his place. And so he pulls on clothes and goes out into the day, leaving all those calendars scattered on the floor. Almost as if they meant nothing at all.

Running Choices

My running watch broke. Let's take a moment to give me the pity this situation deserves.

Great. Welcome back.

I haven't run much lately anyway. I keep meaning to, but I've been busy, the winter has been harsh, and I don't have a running watch.

Well...

Busy is a choice. I choose to scroll Twitter and do other less than crucial things. I lack gumption not time. I make other choices.

I told a friend that I want to run, but it's too cold and snowy. She tilted her head and told me, "you know, people run in snow."

As for a running watch, it may be possible to run without one.

This morning, after shoveling the driveway, I changed into running sandals, tights, and long-sleeve shirt, pulled on gloves and a wool hat, and jogged out onto unplowed roads.

Turns out I don't need to know distance or heart rate. It really _is_ possible to run in snow. And I had time. Go figure.

Which reminds me that life is a series of choices. I might as well make a couple good ones.

Enlightenment in Ninety-Three Lines?

I've been thinking about finishing things. Books, work, email, an endless parade. Just now, while reading a book, I wondered how I finish writing each day's Morning Pages, three sheets of thirty-one lines each, a total of ninety-three lines to fill with blue ink.

How do I finish writing ninety-three lines each morning?

That led to wondering, how do I finish even one line?

Spiraling, as I do, I asked, how do I complete one word or even one letter?

And how does an idea begun in my mind become ink on the page?

I put these thoughts aside to finish reading the last paragraph in the chapter, closed the book, and asked again, how do I finish ninety-three lines each morning.

Then it came to me. I just do. I begin through one kind of miracle, continue through another, and arrive at the end almost as a matter of course.

It's no matter how I finish so long as I begin and believe in miracles the pen and I create.