Why do I teach literature?

When we were going over my student work samples for a demonstration for the EKU Writing Project, Dr. Gil Hunter commented, “ I’m wondering where this is going. I’m sure this constructed response is not the final product of the study of Night.” At the time, I didn’t know what to say. The constructed response was the final assessment for the memoir unit. I had always thought it a good place to leave their reading of Night, offering my students a chance to reflect on the significance, relevance, and value of the work they had just finished. To that extent, it was the end product.  But he is right; it is not the final product. I think, perhaps, it is the first product rather than the final. My thoughts were coalesced recently by a comment of a former student. He is dating my daughter, so I see him often. He picked up the copy of Night setting on my desk and said, “I remember that book. It may have been the only book I actually finished.” He set it down, his fingers lingering for a moment on the cover. I remember. That is the final product of the study of Night, remembering. Wiesel comments that he wrote Night, “to bear witness” to the atrocities of the Holocaust so that we all remember.

My students have never crammed into stinking cattle cars, smelled burning flesh, fought starvation, neither have I, but we remember. We remember things we have never experienced, yet they shape who we are. They influence choices, for good and for the Good. They, we, have seen where minor violence such as words like “fag,” “nigger,” “bitch” can lead--what happens once you start to think of your fellow humans as something less than that, less than you are. However, being the initiator of the dehumanization is not required for culpability. All that is necessary is to do…nothing.  We have considered the inherent danger in standing by and giving even tacit approval by not objecting to the dehumanization of others, not objecting to becoming less human ourselves.

I guess the answer to Dr. Hunter’s question, “what is the final product of their reading of Night?” would be: students standing up for each other--for what it means to be human, the kid who refuses to laugh at the expense of others, the one who puts themselves between their angry/drunk parent and their sibling, every one of them who decides that he/she will make a difference. That is my final product  I would go on, but I can hear the choir music starting to warm up in the background too, and I dislike pretentious sanctimony.  So, many appropriate quotes come streaming to my mind right now, but the best, the answer to the title is my favorite from G.K Chesterton. “Fairytales do not tell children there are dragons; Children already know there are dragons. Fairytales tell children that dragons can be slain.” I teach to tell children that their dragons can be slain, must be slain, will be slain by us all working together.


Doug Reese
6/4/2013 10:19:17 am

You know that moment at the ballgame when you look up and see yourself on the jumbo-tron? You don’t know whether to play it cool, wave to the camera, or do something completely foolish. I had one of those moments today during Gil’s demonstration. Gil was explaining how to use student work as a demonstration of the writing technique that we are teaching when suddenly there I was on the jumbo-tron. Well, my work was anyway, the final part of a reflective essay that I had sent him Monday evening. So, what do you do? Play it cool, wave, or do something foolish?
I opted for the play it cool path. I sat there and decided the best way to cover the fact that it was mine was to pretend to scrutinize the two sentences the he had highlighted for some meaningful contribution to make.
The first sentence he had highlighted was my humorous (?) transition from argument to conclusion. Apparently my sarcasm was taken as pomposity. Not really new territory for me. For the record, I had debate adding an additional “too” to the end of that sentence, added it, took it off, added it again, and ended up deleting it. Well, I will probably put it back.
I did like the commentary I heard, all of it. I like it when people are honest with me about my work. How else do can I improve. There was, however, a noticeable chill in the commentary when Gil mentioned that the author of the piece was 1 male and 2) sitting in the room. Several points seemed to die on the vine. I hope they are resuscitated and shared via the blog posting of the complete essay. I also noted that the comments that were shared from that point on were more…genteel.
So…this is all about learning and improving classroom practice, which would seem to indicate that there are lessons to be learned. (I have yet to attend a PD that I couldn’t take something home from, even if it was don’t ever do that).
Lesson 1: Be careful what you ask for. I had just finished reflecting that maybe I had done something wrong as I had posted several pieces on my Weebly blog and received no comments.
Lesson 2: Talk to students before sharing their work. Not a criticism of what happened. I am an adult. My students are teens with fragile egos and social politics to deal with.
Lesson 3: Don’t reveal the author of the piece unless he/she wants you too. Gill protected my identity, and it is a good practice. Had the room been filled with less mature people, it could have gotten rugged.
Lesson 4: I will probably try to use the work of students from another class and type it up to disguise the handwriting. I am not sure my students can sit there and listen to their peers rip their work apart.
Lesson 5: Once people discover that they know the person who wrote the piece they are looking at it colors their commentary, keep that in mind when tempted to make that revelation.
In case you were wondering, I usually act as crazy as I can when the jumbo-tron catches me, much to the dismay of my wife and daughter.

Reply
Gill
6/5/2013 02:56:11 am

Thanks for sharing this Doug. Even without comments, your readers will find that this resonates with them. I really like your thinking, both in the initial piece and in the reflection that followed the minilesson using your conclusion. I especially like the lessons that end your reflection. It shows real thought and a willingness to think critically about your practice - an essential quality of an effective teacher.

So, that first sentence: is it possible to use the word pretentious and not sound pretentious? Is it possible to mention sanctimony without sounding sanctimonious? I saw the humor, and I thought for a moment about using the sentence to teach irony for just that reason. I like the sentence, and I like its placement. And I like, too, your willingness to keep thinking about it and other sentences like it.

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Eddie
6/5/2013 11:57:14 am

I guess my comment about the first highlighted sentence originated from the fact that I didn't think you were starting to sound preachy. And then the reference to "pretentious sanctimony" seemed completely out of place. Now that I reread it with some insight to your purpose, I can see the intended humor/irony, but it just didn't come through on my first reading.

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