The Literate Teacher's Manifesto

Y'all. Did you know that Google has a timeline function that will show you everywhere you have been since you got a smartphone? Maybe everybody else in the world knew that, but I did not. And for those of you who maybe also do not know, I'm about to show you how to find it and use it. Now, let me begin by saying that I am shook at the invasion of privacy, and the part of me who would choose the Bill of Rights as a hill I would definitely die on has serious misgivings about the fact that Google knows this much about me. But let me also say that I am old enough that I remember rotary phones and landlines, waiting twenty minutes for AOL to dial up, card catalogs, and atlases to navigate family vacations, and the part of me that remembers all that is profoundly awed by how far technology has come in my lifetime. We live in truly amazing times. Before we begin, let me encourage you to be prepared to devote some time to this. Because it's a rabbit hole and once we start, ther

It's been a long day, and I am finally sitting down in my writing chair, but before I can get started, I have to indulge in a guilty pleasure. I tuck my legs up under me and slowly peel back the silver lid, being careful to nudge every last drop into the cup before carefully folding the lid in half and setting it aside. I breathe in, smelling memories: Christmas sugar-coated gummies, my mom's old floor cleaner, elementary school scented markers, and that awesome syrup they used to put in antibiotics when I was a kid. I know, I know... maybe it's weird, but chemical orange is one of my favorite scents. The quivering, tensile surface glimmers up at me, reflecting the lamplight. My tiny dessert spoon carves delicately into the smooth top, leaving scallops in its wake and scooping up a quivering, shiny mouthful, the exact shade of orange as the publish button on my blog (reminding me that I need to get started). I savor the first tangy sweet taste on my tongue, swishing i

It feels more like May than March. The sun is bright, reflecting off the waves, a stark difference from the hazy gray morning we woke up to. The sand stretches to either side of us, dwindling into haze either way, but the water in front of me is clear green-blue and sun sparkles. The warmth of the sun on my toes sets me longing for summer, when I will no longer encase my feet in thick socks and boots. Bare feet mean summer break; pictures of sandy toes and tanned knees in front of blue water. The beach is covered with sunbathers and walkers. There are a few kids who are braving the still-cold waters of the Atlantic. They run kamikaze into the surf, only to retreat, screaming, and try it again thirty seconds later. Teenagers sprawl, bikini-clad, on brightly colored beach towels, while boys in board shorts horseplay nearby. Here and there are individual chairs of readers, sitting quietly and enjoying their books while soaking up the sunshine. Walkers either meander aimlessly or pace pu

Teacher Me (TM): So how's it going? Student Me (SM): Not great. I'm stuck. I keep thinking about what I might write but every time I start it sounds stupid. TM: So tell me a few of your ideas. SM: Well, I thought about writing from that prompt from Thursday... about being a musical instrument. TM: Yeah? Did you have a pretty good start on that from your quickwrite? SM: Yeah. But when I looked at it I couldn't figure out how to finish it. So then I thought about whining a little, or ranting, I guess. I am frustrated about several things right now. But then I thought nobody wants to hear my whining, and ranting tends to not solve anything. Plus I don't want to be perceived as negative (because been there, done that). TM: Hard same. So what are your other options? SM: I did a presentation the other day. I had a lot to say during that, but now that I sit down to write it down I feel like I'm just repeating myself and saying things people have already hea

"A book is a loaded gun in the house next door." --Ray Bradbury Books aren't dangerous, but ideas are. Books without ideas never burn. Books whisper stories of injustice to us, asking us to question the way things are. They strap our bare feet firmly into another man's shoes and demand we walk miles. They remove our blinders and our walls, knock down barriers, transcend borders. They strip us of race, religion, ideology, of all the things that separate and divide, and ask us to see others as they truly are: human. Is it any wonder, then, that those who benefit from our division would rather fund a loaded gun for the hands of every teacher than a library in every classroom?

So I sat down to write this slice at 9:24 pm. Tomorrow I am leaving to go to a conference, which I will present at during the 10:00 AM time slot tomorrow morning. My presentation is not done, and my co-presenter and I haven't really talked about what direction we want to go for this session. This afternoon I ran around my room like a crazy person, because not only did I have to be ready to leave for 2 days, I had to be prepare for a field trip tomorrow (and leave instructions for my sub so she would know how to get the kids taken care of). We had a faculty meeting after school today, and I had car duty. My housekeeper is coming to clean tomorrow, so I had to come home and clean so she can come and clean under my mess (Yes, I have a housekeeper. It's the best investment I have ever made!). And my in-laws arrived for a brief visit this afternoon so they can attend my son's band concert tomorrow night, and we went to dinner tonight. And now, I am trying my hardest