Tag Archives: Workshop

Workshopping Yourself: A Self-Intervention

Readers Writers Workshop, Writers Workshop January 25, 2014 Comments: 4

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Inspired by Shana’s post, I have appropriated her title and shall use this post to tell you about how I have performed a self-intervention using the WW model.  (That is how I am justifying this confession/resolution/declaration post of mine.)

First off, it’s been awhile since I’ve written on TTT.  The first time was because I apparently never hit “publish” on a post I wrote around Thanksgiving!  The second time was because I got pretty ill.  But this time, I’m here!

It’s 2014.  I have just finished administering my last final of first semester.  And it’s a mixed bag, I tell ya.  A mixed bag.

It all hit me hard at the end of winter break.  I hit a wall and thought, “I cannot do this anymore. I must quit my job. I am doing damage to students all over the world!”  (I get a bit melodramatic, as you can tell.  I realize I could only be doing damage to a small percentage of the students of the world.  But the hyperbole does wonders during a whirlpool of perceived despair.)

Rather than allow myself to go under and give up altogether, I decided to…WRITE!  I applied the workshop model on myself.  I just started writing about all the gunk that was swirling around inside.  Why was I feeling this way when I know that teaching is pretty much the only job I can see myself doing, other than being paid to read and talk about books.

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ah, to be back in the zen pools of diana’s baths. unh lit 13, we hardly knew ye…

I sifted through the pages and pages, diagrams, charts, and song lyrics (yes, song lyrics…I went deep), highlighted lines that stuck out, phrases that hinted at more, and crossed out what I knew was just in-the-moment-I-don’t-REALLY-mean-it-stuff.  I revisited the “What’s in my Teaching Soul” that I wrote over the summer when I was in Penny’s UNH Literacy Institute class.  I looked at the handwriting I recognized as mine, and asked, “Where did you go?!?!”  (Melodrama, again.)  

I then did a few things.  I wrote a list of all the things that have gone really well this semester.  Things that I can say I am proud of.  Things that are in-line with my teaching soul.  I made a list of things that I want to bury deep into the ground.  And then I buried it.  (I did!)  I wrote a list of things I know to be true about myself, about my passion for teaching, and about my passions in life (looking at the areas of overlap and of tension).  I wrote about all the things I would miss if I left the classroom. I wrote a list of things I would NOT miss.  I re-visioned my Teaching Soul piece.  I wrote a snapshot of a day in the life of Emily with a “regular person” job.  (I suppose if I really wanted to make a go of it, I could do a whole multi-genre project on this!)

Basically I wrote A LOT.  And I came to know by experience the truth of one of my favorite quotes from one of the books we read during the magical two weeks of UNH Lit 2013 (#peacelovenotebooks, y’all)

“Writing remains the best route we know toward clarity of thought and feeling.”  (from Good Prose by Tracy Kidder and Richard Todd)

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yes, my friends, that is a fork in the road.

I started with a mish-mash of thoughts, feelings, and knew I was at a fork in the road.  I needed to decisive action for my physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health.  And I’ve come out of it all with deeper understanding of what is important to me, what I have to do in order to do what is best for students, and also best for me.

Rather than bore you with all the muck, I will say this.  Being a teacher, in whatever subject, using whatever model – workshop or not – is hard work.  No doubt.  I’m in my 9th non-consecutive year of full-time high school teaching.  What’s with the “non-consecutive”?  I wasn’t trying to be an actor or singer; I took a five-year hiatus in grad school, only to return to the classroom because I realized I LOVED IT and my SOUL WAS DYING in the ivory towers.  And yet…it’s hard work.  It’s hard work that drove me to the “should I quit?” question.

My “regular” friends say, “Why is it so hard? You’ve been doing it almost 10 years.  Doesn’t it get easier once you’ve taught the same thing a couple of times?  Don’t you just rinse and repeat?”  I smile pleasantly and then scream inside – are you kidding me?!

Aside: If I were using a rubric on this post, I would ding me on the “control over topic” box.  Sorry for the tangential nature of this post.

I will end with these few thoughts/reveals/celebrations:

– I have workshopped myself and have come to deeper self-understanding and life-understanding.  Isn’t that what we hope our students will reach through their own writing process?

– I am not going to leave teaching. 🙂  I realized I love it too much.  I reminded myself (through my writing, natch) of how much I missed the students when I was outside of the classroom.  I took the initiative and met with my bosses, and have come up with some options for next year. Options that might actually add to the workshop model conversation: looking at how the workshop model, and reading choice can be implemented in elective courses.  I would still get to teach mostly 9th graders (my sweet spot).  I would still get to talk about books and reading, but in a different context.  It’s still in the works so I can’t say much more than that at the moment.  But I’m excited.  And I wouldn’t die under the guilt and weight of the paperload.  I could be part of bringing rigorous literacy skills into content area courses, which is “so Common Core” (buzzword alert).

– Though there are so many things I have written on the list I buried underground, I do know that my students are reading more than they ever have.  They are being exposed to books that push them out of their genre comfort zones (I am Malala in the house!).  And I myself am reading more than I ever have.  In an effort to out-read my students, to have great titles to book talk, and to demonstrate that reading widely and just reading more is possible and beneficial, I read more last year (136 books officially on goodreads, and 10 more that I didn’t log) than I have since…1992, probably.

– Change in education is like trying to turn a stationary ship, and my school site is no different.  But I think we may have started the engine of the ship!  I believe I have found a kindred spirit in my department.  Someone who is on the same page (see what I did there?) about reading choice, and moving away from teaching literature towards teaching literacy.  *Of course I might be moving departments next year, but I can still help effect change!

– The Freedom Readers, our student book club, organized a Winter Break Book Giveaway, during which we were able to give away over 200 donated books to over 100 students so that they could read over winter break and beyond.

Even though we hardly had a winter out here in California, the winter of my discontent (allusion alert!) is thawing with the hope of second semester.  I won’t give up (unintentional and unrelated song lyric reference alert). What else can I do?  I’ll keep trying, and I’ll keep writing.  (And reading, of course!)

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that’s my hope growing out of my non-California winter

Before and After

Shana Karnes August 24, 2013 1 Comment

Our Compass Shifts 2-1Here in Wild and Wonderful West Virginia, we’ve been back to school for a little over a week.  I’ve managed to learn all of my students’ names, most of their reading interests, and a few of their writing hang-ups.  My students seem to be quickly figuring out that stubbornness or apathy are no match for the genuine obsession I have with reading and writing, and getting my students to do both well.  They sometimes look a little taken aback as they sit facing one another in my beautiful blue classroom, watching me do a booktalk or model a writing lesson with the zeal of a stage performer, but that’s okay with me.  I’ve worked hard to portray all of the passion and enthusiasm inside of me as we’ve framed our reading and writing workshop, and when I see all eyes in the classroom on mine, a book, or their own words on a page, I feel like I’m doing a good job.

But the thing is–I feel completely out of my element here.  I’ve only been teaching in this classroom for seven days.  I’ve only been in this state for two months.  And I’ve only been Mrs. Karnes since June first.  Combine that with the fact that this year, I’m giving myself over to the workshop model entirely, and everything about my life feels completely different.

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You see, I had a great teaching job in Cincinnati at a small school north of the city.  I taught wonderful classes–AP English, Honors English, a reading elective–and headed excellent activities–National Honor Society, Academic Team, ACT/SAT Class.  I had a gorgeous lime green classroom, a curriculum I could plan for in my sleep, and cooperative students who answered the questions I asked correctly.  I did a lot, but my job felt easy.  I had plenty of time to plan a wedding, finish my Masters degree, and work a second job outside of school.  All was comfortable and I was content.  But then, I was swept away by love to another state–away from the family, classroom, and colleagues I had all been so familiar with.  I got married and moved here without a job lined up, and quickly realized how frantic I was to teach again.

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I was fortunate enough to land a position at my new school thanks to a unique license type I had due to the Ohio-West Virginia transfer.  Here, I would be teaching general level English and one journalism class, plus advising the yearbook staff.  None of this seemed very glamorous–and my new classroom certainly wasn’t very exciting either–but hey, I was just glad to have a job.  I reasoned that the textbook series was the same, my classroom library held the same books, and I had two big crates full of sample writing prompts, essay questions, reading projects, and test-prep questions to get me through.

Then came the University of New Hampshire and its Summer Literacy Institute.  This worldview-altering learning experience completely revitalized me as a teacher.  I learned as much from my fellow students as I did from our teacher-leader, the amazing Penny Kittle (if you haven’t read her books, get with the program and READ THEM!).  After two weeks of ideas, inspiration, and insight, I decided to take the fact that I was in a new school with a flexible curriculum and use it as an opportunity to completely overhaul my teaching.  I threw most of the contents of those two big crates in the garbage and started fresh.

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So here I am, workshopping it up in West Virginia.  While I’m still getting used to planning and prepping for this model, I’m happy with the way things are going.  I spend much less time “teaching” than I’m used to, but much more time conferring one-on-one with students, helping them find good books, talking about their reading lives, and working with them on their writing.  I still get a jolt hearing “Mrs. Karnes!” instead of “Miss E!”, it still feels strange to bring my teacher bag home to a small apartment instead of my old house, and I don’t have a pile of worksheets to grade or a set of chapters to assign.  But my students are reading.  They’re writing.  And they’re doing both seriously.

I’m in a different state, with a different name, teaching in a different way.  I may not feel comfortable, but I do feel right at home.