I am a professional communicator. That means I work hard to try to be understood.I fail at this often, but I work at it.
Someday I am going to be so good at communicating that even people who have been in meetings with me will understand what I said as well as what I meant.
Looking back on this residency, I realize the first and most evident fact: The kids were fine, I'm the one who needed to adjust!
I went in blinder than I knew, encountered something I didn't understand, and went so far into my own head I could see things coming at me through the back side of my skull.
This is a common failing of mine.
My third day of this three-day residency started off a little tentatively.
The librarian asked me if I could tell a story to the third block of kids.
I told her that since it was my last day I would definitely be telling to all of the classes. She looked relieved.
I had no idea why, but it felt a bit shady. I had enough on my plate and decided I didn't want to know.
The first two classes of the morning played the Freeze Game. We had a good time, and then I told them stories. Did I spark some imagination? Did I give the kids ideas for writing? Did I accomplish anything other than getting them to pay attention to their little wiggly bodies and start focusing on the images they were creating in their heads?
I have no idea.
The first class demanded to hear The Ghost with One Black Eye. They'd heard it in the fall, but they were determined, so I told it again.
The second class also played the Freeze game. They didn't go as far into the exercise, and they were not as attentive to the whole "These are the parts of a story" discussion we had before the exercise. This class got Red, Red Lips as a tale.
The third class of the day is when things went off the rails.
I decided to go back and see if this class could do The Good Thing/Bad Thing story work. It did not go well. I put the kids into small groups instead of two big groups to work with the teachers. The small groups had all sorts of problems, the kids could not organize this game by themselves. It was a mess. I pulled them out of it and moved onto the stories.
I should have listened to my instincts instead of allowing one particular teacher to help me sabotage myself. You'd think I would learn, but sometimes you gleefully take the poisoned apple and stuff it in your face.
Another fault, not listening to thirty years of experience.
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| Taily Po |
I was really surprised by her reaction.
Well, by putting the kids into smaller groups, it wasn't effective. I should have just moved on to the Freeze Game.
After I pulled the kids out of the exercise, I talked about writing, told them Taily-Po, and sent them off to class.
Fourth block went fine. The teachers worked with the kids on the story game, we never got to the Freeze Game, and by the end, despite one teacher demanding things "make sense" in a "reality" way - I think she was a bit unimpressed with the shark who was also a Kung-Fu master. I was pretty sure this seven-year-old wasn't the first kid to come up with that idea and ten seconds of Googling after I got home proved that to be true - but I just laughed and rolled with it in class, and the story went on from there. I think she let it go a little more after that.
I talked a bit about the books, and then I told them Barney McCabe, which they loved.
After the last class, and the mixed bag day, the librarian admitted that the poison apple teacher from the third block was extremely disappointed. She'd sent a red hot meltdown email. She thought there was going to be more storytelling and less of this teaching about language stuff.
What did she expect?
I have no idea.
Did she think I was going to sit in the library for three days and tell stories for an hour at a time?
No idea.
What did she think was going to happen?
I have no idea.
Like I said: I am a professional communicator.
The librarian also told me that one of the teachers from the fourth block had seen the email from the third block teacher, and she did not agree.
The fourth block teacher expected exactly what she got. This is what I said I was going to do. This is what the material I sent said I was going to do. This is what they wanted. She was quite happy with the experience.
The teacher from the fourth block wanted me to know that not everyone shared the sentiment that there was going to be hours and hours of storytelling.
Like I said: I am a professional communicator.
Watch, the third block teacher will be the only one to fill out the survey for the arts council and then I'll be in trouble in Wake County.
Sigh.
This is why I don't like teaching residencies.
Partners in education range from fabulous to antagonistic. I've run the gamut over the last thirty years, which is why I don't often go into the classroom anymore. I have worked with teachers who love the exercises, teachers who hate them, teachers who don't understand how the work helps, teachers who implement the ideas immediately, teachers who think language work like this is a waste of time, teachers who don't think their kids are capable, teachers who wish they could teach like this all of the time, and teachers who hate every single minute of it.
The stress on all sides is just unbelievable.
If I wanted that much stress, I'd get a desk job.
There are artists who are so much better at this than I am...Looking at you, Sherry, Arianna, and Carrie Sue.
I hope I remember this little episode the next time The David says, "Hey, I think these people want a residency!"
Just because you can do a thing doesn't mean you ought to do it. I do not have any passion for teaching at this point in my career.
It is time for me to stop doing it...For everyone's sake.
Life takes you where it takes you. Own up to it and avoid making yourself miserable!
Happy Telling!
The Search For Imagination - Day 1
Digging For Buried Treasure: Day 2
A Mixed Bag of Failure, Confusion,Success and storytelling: Day 3
