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teens

Epiphany of the Week: Hot Girls Can Be Smart

Not my epiphany … that of a 9th grade boy. A very girl-crazy 9th grade boy. (“Aren’t they all?” you say. No, not really. Not like this.)

The student in question was in my room, discussing with another student how astounded he was to discover this older girl (cheerleader, no less) is super-smart and able to help him with his math homework. I said (uh, pretty sarcastically), “Incredible, isn’t it? A hot girl and she’s smart?”

He could’ve really dug himself into a hole then, but he managed a save. “I know! But then I thought about it, and there’s [names several girls in his grade who fit in the cute-and-popular category and have high academic achievement].”

It struck me that teens can be a little one-dimensional in their thinking, but they can also add dimensions to their view pretty easily when they let themselves.

It parallels the experience I often have when students find out I write fiction. “But you teach math!” Like they’re these mutually exclusive things. Like I have to fit neatly into a stereotype.

Then there was the time a student reported that one of the English teachers had said English is harder to teach than math. (I hope she was joking around. I wasn’t there, so I don’t know.) I teased back that he should tell her we can switch places for a day and we’ll see what happens, because I know a thing or two about English.

Really, though … why must we try to fit people into these boxes? The analytical side of me can see the appeal of simple categorization. It keeps things organized. Much easier to split things into hot blondes (in the blonde-joke sense) and ugly nerds, math people and English people, jocks and band-geeks.

Real people tend to have overlap somewhere, though. More often than not, a lot of overlaps. That’s trickier to wrangle with, but makes life a lot more interesting.

On a quick writing note … I’m always glad to see characters that reflect the kind of multifaceted-ness I see in real-life teens. Sometimes, though, I find that one or more of those blended aspects lacks authenticity. The cute, popular girl who reports she loves math/science and is good at it … but doesn’t show any of the thinking processes that go with skills in those areas. Not that she can’t still make stupid decisions—all humans do sometimes. But saying she’s “that kind of smart” isn’t the same as behaving like a person who really is, with all the complexity that includes.

I guess that makes another case for “Show, Don’t Tell.”

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The Transition from Cooties to Couples

Yes, I’m back with more observations from Project People-Watch: Junior High Edition.

For the last several years, I’ve been at a school where I’ve mainly been working with the older high school kids—anywhere from 16 to 21 years old. Even when I had 8th and 9th graders, it was such a tiny school that the dynamics weren’t always what most teenagers would consider typical.

Now I’m back in a large public school. I have one 8th grade class (smaller, honors) and five 9th grade classes (large, full spectrum from overachievers to strugglers to I-don’t-cares). Those 9th graders are top of the heap at this school, but would have been among the youngest I taught previously, so it’s an interesting perspective.

The most interesting thing, regardless of class, is to watch what various students (and groups of students) do during a stretch of free time at the end of class.

The 8th grade class has The Great Wall of Gender Divide running down the middle of it. They chose their own seats, and it’s girls on the right, boys on the left. During free time, the girls will talk—about play practice, homework and events in other classes, whatever. The boys will play cards.

One exception is a girl and boy who sit next to each other on the divide. The girl will alternate chatting and joking around with him, and chatting with the other girls. Don’t know the history there, but the pair seem like they’ve been friends for a long time.

The only further mingling is a type I saw just this week after they all finished their tests. Several girls asked if they could draw on the whiteboard. (Last day before break—why not?) One of the girls favors the in-state rival over the more local college team. The boys take exception to that. So when she drew her team’s logo on the board, it turned into a bit of a battle.

The rest of the girls continued doodling funny faces and writing names in fancy scripts.

Then there are the 9th grade classes. During free time (or even homework time), there are four major groups, with a few people who float between them.

First there are the girls sticking with girls, much like my 8th grade class. They gravitate to their friends in the class and chat about things from the silly to the serious.

Then there are the boys who stick with boys. Again like my 8th graders, card games are often popular, or some of the puzzles I keep in the classroom. They chat, too … more likely about sports, video games, and such.

The other two groups are those where girls and guys intermingle, much more commonly than with my 8th graders. My gut tells me there are two distinct groups here, but the difference is hard to describe.

I guess I’d say one group is the Flirts, and the other is the Friends. That’s not to say there isn’t flirting and crushing going on amongst the Friends, but it’s somehow less obvious, not the be-all end-all of their interactions. With the Friends, I see more genuine talking, less posturing.

With the Flirts, one glance tells me this guy is trying to be clever or smooth as a way of showing off, trying to impress the girl. The girl is laughing and acting cute as can be to keep him at it.

At any rate, I don’t see anything like the Flirts in my 8th grade class. Aside from the one exceptional pair, I don’t see the Friends there, either. Maybe because of its size? Just the dynamics of the people in there? Or the age, and what a difference a year makes?

Some possibilities to keep in mind if I ever write characters quite so young.

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Cool vs. Not-Cool—More Relativity

We already know this: What is “cool” varies from person to person. We knew it in school. Some kids thought drugs and partying were cool; some disagreed vehemently. That’s more extreme, but there are grayer shades.

Which kids in your class did you think were cool? I’m not talking jocks and cheerleaders vs. geeks and nerds. More like which cheerleader—the queen-bee who seems to have it all under control, the sweet one who seems happy all the time, the hard-working one who’s all about perfecting her handsprings? (Were they all the same person in your case?)

Who we individually think is cool is entirely subjective. Collectively, though, there’s generally a majority agreeing on one person/thing or another being cool.

When I’m teaching, most of my time is naturally devoted to the whole “teaching” part. Still, there are a few minutes in every class near the end where I fall into people-watching. Some students are obviously the “cool” kids (and there’s usually more than one distinct set of them). Some are obviously on the outskirts of Popularity-ville. Many are somewhere in-between.

I should know better, but it still surprises me sometimes to see who some kids are (or aren’t) friends with.

The whole thing is such a game. Even as adults, we don’t escape it. And yet, as an adult, it twists a little.

Not all my students think I’m cool. Some don’t even like me a little bit. But I can guarantee I’m “cooler” and more popular as a teacher than I ever was as a student.

The students who do think I’m cool often strike me as those who wouldn’t have noticed me when I was in school.

On the flip-side … I see those “popular” kids in a way I never could back in those days.

Perspective. Relativity.

We’re a bunch of complicated creatures, aren’t we?

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People-Watching, Junior High Style

This Friday, a few more random observations from the teen-trenches, post-Parent-Teacher-Conference edition.

Sometimes when two teens don’t get along, it’s mega-obvious. Like, their proximity to each other includes a DEFCON 1 alert. When two such teens are put in the same class, it’s my lucky job to keep it from coming to blows. (One such crisis averted yesterday … I’ll save the sigh of relief, though.)

Sometimes when two teens don’t get along, you’d never know it to look at them in class. One parent said something about one friend of her child hating another friend in the same class. I never, ever would have guessed, so I guess they’re good at faking it. Whatever’s behind it all, I appreciate the lack of drama.

Some parents will tear down a good kid. No, the kid isn’t perfect, a few things can be improved, but on average, the kind of kid you’d want to have.

Some kids try to tear themselves down, and it’s up to the parents (and me) to talk them off the ledge, convince them there’s nothing wrong with having an A-minus at midterm.

Popularity is a weird thing. So are cliques. I have a good rapport with a lot of kids who are similar to me at that age (so, the shy/quiet, slightly awkward, not-so-confident geeks). I also have a good rapport with a lot of kids who are at the highest echelon of the social system (this includes some geeks of a different kind). I am much more popular as a teacher than I ever was as a student, which kind of warps my brain.

Some of the most awesome kids are those who cross those social boundaries as though oblivious to their existence.

Most parents are on the teacher’s side, because they know the teacher’s on the kid’s side, whether the kid thinks so or not. (At least, that’s how it should be, though of course there are bad teachers out there, just as there are bad parents … as noted above.)

Most teens know what they should and shouldn’t do. They know all the great reasons for such things. That often doesn’t stop them from doing what they shouldn’t or not doing what they should. And they know that, too. Knowledge may be power, but it’s no substitute for willpower and self-control.

One of the saddest things is to realize I have more faith in a student’s capability than their own parent.

One of the greatest things is to see the relief in a parent’s eyes when they realize I share their belief in a struggling student’s potential …

… and it makes me wonder if they had teachers in the past who wrote that student off.

I hope I never get to that point. Even on the days when the student tries their best to convince me they’re a hopeless case.

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Mockery—The Permissible Form of Bullying?

Working against bullying is a big deal in schools, as well it should be. I’ve seen workshops, policies, text hotlines, and more. Some efforts seem more effective than others, and for some, I really have no idea whether they work or not. When teens already know they shouldn’t do something, does telling them it’s wrong again really stop them if they’re so inclined?

Not sure. The main things I feel I can do are make it clear that I won’t tolerate bullying in my classroom, and more importantly, set a good example.

Sometimes I wonder what kind of example we set amongst ourselves, though. Especially in this age of social media.

As I browse through my Twitter lists, it’s mostly fun, games, and good information. There are also opinions, which are great. What’s not so great is when opinions are of a type akin to “Anyone who thinks this way/votes this way/belongs to this party or organization is an idiot AND a lesser human being.”

I’m nowhere near perfect, but whenever I disagree with someone, I do try to come at it from an angle that isn’t judging them as a person. It takes a lot of effort—sometimes a crap-ton of effort, sometimes more effort than I can manage—but often I can get myself to the following head-space:

Their view on this is the total opposite of mine. We couldn’t disagree more on this. But I see where they’re coming from, and coming from there, what they think is reasonable for them. I still believe what I think is reasonable for me. We see it differently, and that’s okay.

I have friends all along various spectrums—political, religious, whatever—so this mindset is very important to me. They’re fabulous people—even the ones who hate math!

If a student vocally, stridently denigrated (for instance) people who buy into creationism, or gay people, or people who own guns, or people who have a live-in boyfriend … if they did that in the middle of class, knowing there’s every likelihood that someone in the room falls into that category, would we let it go?

Why, then, is it okay to watch a political party convention (either one) and go to town with mocking tweets, declaring the utter stupidity of everyone associated with that party?

Because we’re adults and should be able to take it? Isn’t that the old response to bullying? “You need to toughen up and just take it.” Because we’re free to fight back? That always goes well.

My opinion (and yes, just my opinion, so you can disagree): The way forward is in understanding. Not necessarily agreement. Definitely not homogeneity. But understanding where other views come from, and trying to find common ground.

Mockery closes doors and raises walls. My hope is that we all (myself included) will remember to think before we tweet (or post, or whatever). Who will be on the receiving end? Might I be actively insulting them by saying this?

Are my words hiding hate behind a veil of snark?

And what kind of example am I setting for future generations?

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"But My Writing Teacher Said (or Asseverated) …"

Speaking of undoing what other teachers have done

Did anyone else go to school and have a poster or handout with 75 or so alternatives to “said”? Bellowed, whispered, mumbled, hissed—ooh, that last one sparks fights. Can you actually hiss words?

Enter the world of aspiring novelist and you’re told to only use “said,” if you must use a dialogue tag at all. Maybe “asked” if you really think the question mark isn’t doing its job.

There’s another one I see all the time when students ask me to look at their writing assignments. I’m not sure what their English teacher’s stance is on it, which makes it hard to know what to say.

Descriptions. Extreme overuse of adjectives. Since I don’t teach English or creative writing, I don’t have a volume of teenage story samples, but from what I have seen, it’s near impossible for a character to enter a scene without making their hair and eye color known, at minimum.

Thing is, they’re kids. They’re learning. Maybe their teacher wants them to be more descriptive and develop that skill. If their own character/setting visualizations are too transparent on the page, maybe that’s all right for now. Maybe they need to lay it out there in black and white as they practice, working toward more nuanced ways of painting pictures with words.

Weaving description into a narrative is an art all its own—one I’m constantly working on improving myself. Getting characters to speak (or whisper or mumble or even hiss) for themselves is another one.

How do you take students (or writers in general, at any age) from these school-days practices to more seamless techniques?

How did any of us get there? Personally, I find it hard to pinpoint where/how I learned specific things about writing. I can tell you how I learned about differential equations. I can’t tell you how I learned about writing dialogue that works, creating multi-dimensional characters, or even most grammatical conventions.

That’s always made the idea of teaching something like language arts mind-boggling to me.

Any such teachers out there who can share how they approach teaching creative writing in their classrooms? When students decide they want the math teacher’s opinion (because word of her “other job” got out), what kind of feedback might I want to give?

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