Who's the adult here?

Two weeks ago a troubled and troubling student cussed at a young colleague of mine. The teacher, not yet 100 days into her career in education, responded as the adult: calmly, responsibly. The incident was de-escalated, the student was escorted to the office, and learning was restored to the classroom.

When the teacher met with me an hour later, she processed the episode: why the student had lashed out, how to smooth the class's frayed edges after such conflict, ways to manage her own hurt feelings.  In other words, she handled the confrontation with maturity.

"The ability to manage your emotions and remain calm under pressure has a direct link to your performance," says columnist Travis Bradberry Forbes Magazine article titled "How Successful People Stay Calm," reminding me of the mantra: The one who is calm is the one in control. 

My co-worker's  incident was fresh in my mind when later that day I read about Donald Trump's Twitter attack on Chuck Jones, the union leader representing Carrier workers. Jones had challenged Trump's depiction of saving jobs in Indiana by saying Trump had "lied his ass off." 

Trump, in response, used a firehose to put out a birthday candle. He took to Twitter to blast Jones for having "done a terrible job of representing workers." His next Tweet blamed the Union for the job drain to Mexico.

What's happening here? According to presidential historian Robert Dallek, Trump's response was "beneath the dignity of the office." 

Perhaps even more worrisome is the chill cast by Trump's repeated failure to understand his role as adult-in-chief. Central to the definition of "bullying" is using imbalance of power to harm another. Or as Mirriam-Webster says in its definition of "bully": 

a blustering browbeating person; especially :  one habitually cruel to others who are weaker

This isn't to say that Jones's "lied his ass off" insult wasn't rude. It was. But it was also legitimate for Jones to call out Trump for what Jones said was false representation of the job save. (See "Democracy" and "First Amendment.")

But significant here is the imbalance of Trump's response, Tweeted to his 17 million followers, which then set off a deluge of "threats and other harassing calls" to Jones. 

Trump is poised to take the most powerful position in our country. He has now outsized all of the kids in the sandbox. He doesn't get to play here anymore, and he certainly doesn't get to throw sand. Trump has the biggest pulpit in the world. His insults are amplified to a roar--which is why we expect a president to be measured, thoughtful...adult.

And this brings me back to my young colleague. As teachers we are constantly weighing our imbalance of power. We out-size our students with our age, education, positions of authority. When confronted with make-us-mad moments, we are called upon to be the ones in control.

If America's teachers can refrain from lashing out in anger against those who might insult us, I'd like the president to hold himself to as high a standard.

If my 23-year-old colleague can do it, so can Trump.

Fact, False Claim, or Opinion? A Beginner's Guide for Students and the President

On Sunday, as I planned for the teaching of "Animal Farm" by George Orwell, Mike Pence was interviewed on ABC's This Week, where he painfully attempted to soften Trump's false claim that millions of people voted illegally in California by saying "it's [Trump's] right to express his opinion."

WAIT! I shouted at my computer screen. "You're confusing 'opinion' and 'false claim'!" As an English teacher, I shout at the computer frequently: "Shakespeare didn't say that!" or "Cite your sources!"

A 14-year-old in an intro debate class knows that Trump's tweet "I won the popular vote if you deduct the millions of people who voted illegally" is not an opinion. "I should have won the popular vote," or even "Too many people vote illegally" are opinions. They carry markers of opinion (should, too many). An opinion is a statement of attitude or self-report, according to this very helpful handout prepared by Dr. Bruce Murray, associate professor of Reading Education at Auburn University.

Trump's Tweet is not an opinion. Nor is it fact (statement about the real world supported by convergent evidence). It is a FALSE CLAIM. That is, it is a "statement about the real world, refuted by the evidence" (Murray). Here is a cogent distillation of that evidence by New York Times election writer Nate Cohen.

When Mike Pence and others defend Trump's outlandish false claims by mislabeling them "opinion," they are distorting meaning in an intentionally misleading way. Consider how labeling false claims as opinion would roll out in a classroom:

Suzy: "There's no school tomorrow!" (false claim)

Teacher: "You have a right to your opinion." (????)

or

Johnny: "The Declaration of Independence was signed by Elvis Presley and Mickey Mouse." (false claim)

Teacher: "You have a right to your opinion." (????)

No. It doesn't work that way. When information is presented as fact (a statement about the real world) but is not true (refuted by the evidence) that is not opinion. It is false claim. In school lingo, we say "That is incorrect." 

And this brings me back to teaching Orwell during the transition to the Trump presidency. Central to Orwell's dystopian "1984" and his cautionary allegory "Animal Farm" is the idea that language matters. What we say--particularly when said from positions of authority or through avenues of wide reach--influences what people believe to be true. 

That is, language manipulation twists thinking. Hence "War is peace / freedom is slavery / ignorance is strength." If those words don't send a chill up your spine as we careen toward a reality in which we consider all things said as equally valid, please read or re-read "1984" today. And while you're at it, you should buy a copy for every Christmas stocking you plan to stuff. That's my opinion.

New Normal - Dec. 2, 2016

Last week my freshmen wrote 100-word rants on topics ranging from wet grass and nothing rhyming with orange, to the trouble with little brothers and disappointment in J.K. Rowling's "The Cursed Child."

It was a one-class period assignment, a chance to review ethos, logos and pathos while practicing a little word crafting.

But several of the rants highlighted a change I've seen in students since returning to the classroom 13 years ago. 

Consider this: 

I’ll be nice, but seriously people. Stop. Do you really HAVE to scream about how scared you were the whole plane ride because you were sitting across from Muslims (personal experience)? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?? Everyone has their opinions, but get a grip. You’re just trying to look holier than everyone else. I’m a teenager. I’m definitely not holy like you supposedly are. Teen years are when you SHOULD question your beliefs and who you are. I’m not sure what I believe in. But I know I believe no one’s that holy, so please step off your heavenly pedestal.

And this:

Seriously, let other people be different. You are probably not the coolest person, even if you think you are. Not everyone needs to be like you or have a specific religion or be a specific race or like the same music as you do. People can be different, it’s not a crime. You don’t need to say that just because someone has a different religion that they’re wrong. One of my friends did this when I told them my dad has a friend who is Jewish. You should just accept people for their differences.

And then this:

I’m a normal teenage who is still trying to figure out who/what he is, but that doesn’t make it okay to assume someone's sexuality.  I have, throughout my fifteen years of wisdom, have had many people ask me if I was gay.  It’s not right. Even if I was gay what would make you think you could just come up to a random guy and ask them if they were gay. NOTHING! Someone’s sexuality isn’t any of your business. So therefore just stay out of other people’s personal life and get to know them before you ask something like that.

What I see here is a welcome "new normal." Students are more willing to speak up on issues of acceptance and inclusion--of others and of themselves. 

I've been thinking about "new normal" this week as the media struggles with effective ways to respond to fake news and Tweets from a president-elect who "does not wage political war with facts and figures [but rather] fights his battles by sowing confusion and spreading misinformation." (Brett Edkins, writing in Forbes Magazine.) 

Sample some headlines:

Welcome to Washington’s new normal: One Trump drama after another (Washington Post)

A new normal in journalism for the age of Trump (Columbia Journalism Review)

Future of Affordable Care Act (Week 1): Assessing New Normal (National Law Review)

I want to resist the co-opting of the phrase "New Normal" as code for disregard for honesty, intentional antagonizing through name-calling, and dismissal of rights guaranteed by our constitution. 

The young people I work with each day remind me that our "New Normal" can also mean giving voice to the attacked, speaking up against bigotry, and accepting ourselves and each other as worthy of respect and kindness.

That's a new normal I can get behind.

Cite Your Sources: A Beginner's Guide for Students (and Presidents) Nov. 28, 2016

My freshman students finished their first public speaking block last week, so last night I read their reflections.

Meanwhile my news apps were open and I watched The Washington Post, New York Times, and Wall Street Journal report on Trump's claim (sans evidence) that "millions of people" voted illegally in the Nov. 8 presidential election.

In other words, I spent the evening in a split reality. I was simultaneously praising students for using solid attribution in the citing of statistics and facts--and watching the soon-to-be U.S. President assert voter fraud accusations, accusing "the media" of failing to report this, without citing a source for his claim.

I could go down a rabbit hole here, exploring why Trump is shouting "serious voter fraud" at the same time he's condemning the Stein campaign for its pursuing of recounts. Wouldn't voter fraud be a reason to SUPPORT scrutiny of election results? Or I could again contemplate likely reasons Trump fails to identify his private line to all things true.

But today's post has a more immediate purpose: to remind everyone (myself included) to demand attribution for facts and statistics.  This election cycle has all but erased the public's expectation for validation of sources. (As of this morning, Trump has 44k retweets and 130k likes on his "millions...voted illegally" tweet. Meanwhile, the NYT had 207 retweets and 293 likes for its "Claims With No Evidence" article.)

This disproportionate dissemination of unattributed "facts" is a Goliath, and lone English teachers across the country may need to step up as the Davids. (Who else is up to the task? Who else, day in and day out, fights the losing battle of "between you and I"?) We are the obvious ones to raise the "Cite your sources!" battle cry.

So here goes:

1) If a fact is well known and can be easily verifiable (the world has a population of 7 billion+) it does not require citation.

2) All other facts and statistics do. (Forty-seven percent of the world's population now has internet access, according to a study by the United Nations' International Telecommunications Union, as published this morning in a Denver Post article.)

3) In the Twitterverse, attribution is frequently decapitated by the 140-character guillotine. Nevertheless, the rule stands. Use two tweets if need be, or better yet link to your source.

4) Do not cite "the internet" as a source. That's sort of like saying anything green is a vegetable.

5) If you slip up, fail to attribute, and someone asks for your source, provide it immediately. (You too, Mr. President-elect.)

6) Do not share or re-post images and/or stories that fail to cite sources. Over the weekend I saw the image below posted on social media many times. I, too, am concerned about the appointment of DeVos as Secretary of Education, but in addition to the obvious photo-shop silliness, the points asserted in the post are not verifiable without look-it-up research. Regardless of which viewpoint it supports, posts like this weaken our thinking and the quality of civil discourse.

DO NOT SHARE THIS!

Thanksgiving: No 'Leftovers' - Nov. 24, 2016

I wrote this essay for the Des Moines Register in 1999, but I thought of it recently and wanted to share.

Click on link to view:
"Rekindling the Spirit of 'Leftover' Souls"

Name-calling, normalized - Nov. 22, 2016

Teachers, when is the last time you allowed a student to call another an insulting name?

A couple of boys in one of my classes called another student "coach" last year. A shadow crossed over the boy's face. We were not playing basketball. "What's wrong with 'coach'?" the name-callers posed when I directed them to not use the word. I didn't need to know the backstory to recognize the intent of insult.

"I will not let anyone in this room call you names," I responded, "and I offer that same assurance to everyone in this room."  Presenting no-name-calling as a protection to all (rather than as a protection only to the name-called) takes the spotlight off the bullied student. But I must be vigilant. Students know the power of an insult, and adolescents are attuned to the gaining and using of power.

A few years ago I failed to notice a name-calling episode until it had escalated. Of all places, it was an Interpersonal Communication class comprised of juniors and seniors. A quiet boy suddenly stood up, flipped-off another student, and stormed out of the room. It turns out his "friend" (yes, the boys were teammates and moved in the same social circle) had called him "Beaner" one too many times.

"I call him that all the time!" was the defense offered lamely. "He never minded it before!" I was ashamed to think the exchange had occurred "before" in my classroom.

I'm sure I've missed incidents of name-calling--but I have never allowed it intentionally. This hardly makes me some super-teacher. It is merely the lowest bar of civil interaction: call people by their names.  No one gets to decide what they want to be called except the person him/herself. (I offer as evidence the artist formerly known as Prince and my friend Laura who told everyone at summer camp her name was "Misty.")

So this morning, when I open my newsfeed to another example of name-calling by our president-elect, my dismay is visceral. When Trump tweets (again, again) about the "failing New York Times" his epithet is read by 15+million followers. Like Homer knew, such name tags  help an audience remember characteristics about fleet-footed Achilles or the grey-eyed Athena. But while Homer's intentions were literary, Trump's penchant for the epithet is sinister: "Lyin' Ted" and "Crooked Hillary," "Failing New York Times," and "Goofy Elizabeth Warren" are intended to lock an insult to a person's name, nestling into your brain next to the person (or NYT's) identity.

Furthermore, my students are already too willing to wallow in fallacious argument techniques without people in power providing daily examples of name-calling as an "acceptable" way to prove a point.

In this surge of Fake News, guiding people to reliable news sources is more important than ever. So I am vested in upholding the reputation of the New York Times--even if the NYT is not technically a person with a name.

But more importantly, hurling of insults is normalized every time it goes unchecked. And the proliferation of name-calling  in public discourse over the election season has made my job as a civics teacher (yes, we all are) that much harder.

My doctor, the president - Let them do their jobs? - Nov. 18, 2016

I need to talk about cancer again.

Within a few weeks of my breast cancer diagnosis 11 years ago, I was drowning in information. As anyone who's faced a health crisis knows, well-meaning Nightingales swoop in to offer treatment suggestions, doctor names, diet advice.

And I, wanting to make the best decisions and understand my cancer (sounds like "my puppy" or "my garden," doesn't it?), was draining my limited brain power trying to cram a 12-year medical degree into a few weeks of late-night internet searching.

I don't remember how I came to the conclusion that out-thinking the experts was a futile proposition, but I do remember the lift of anxiety I felt when I released the reins of my treatment plan to my wise and experienced doctor at the University of Iowa. I needed to get on with my life, and to do so meant allowing my doctor to use his experience and knowledge to guide my treatment. This didn't mean blind, unquestioning patienthood, but it did mean I relieved myself of the pressure to personally read every cancer study or wrap my head around the complex science beneath each cancer drug.

I realized yesterday that "hand it to the experts" has--until this year--been my attitude toward the presidency. I understood that I needed to move on with my life, let the checked-and-balanced government do its job, trusting that the presidents have wise, stable people advising them. I've always followed the news, but second-guessing presidential decision-making was an occasional diversion, not a daily burden.

Many seem prepared to grant the same grace to Trump. Nicholas Kristof was ready on Nov. 9 to give Trump a chance.  Even President Obama reminded Americans that we must now hope for the success of a Trump presidency.

But in the past few days two important factors have collided to prevent me from easing into the "Trust the process" camp.

First, news surged on the problem of Alt-Right and Fake News swamping people's news feeds, causing a disconnect from truth that is unprecedented in our quality-journalism reliant democracy.

Second, Trump has tapped Steve Bannon as his chief White House strategist and senior counselor, and Retired Lt. Gen. Michael Flynn as his security adviser--two people known for the inflammatory rhetoric and post-truth thinking that trademarks ignorance-seeding fake news sites.

It's one thing to trust democracy when the media is following the Society of Professional Journalists Code of Ethics: Seek the TRUTH and report it; Minimize harm; Act independently; Be accountable and transparent.

When people can't determine legitimate news from fake news, when people accept false information as good-enough post-truth, when facts are no longer checked--or ignored when they are checked, I can't hand over the decision-making to "the experts" with any confidence.

What I can do is subscribe to news sites that adhere to the SPJ standards, to call out fake news for what it is, and to stay vigilant.

Imperfect Offerings - Nov. 17, 2016

"Ring the bells that still can ring 

forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything

That's how the light gets in"

--Leonard Cohen, "Anthem" 

Yesterday my friend Haley gifted me with the above Leonard Cohen stanza, and I'm putting it to memory.

What an uplifting response to many of the feelings that have weighed on me this past week: failure, disappointment, hopelessness.

Cohen's song was released almost 25 years ago, and 1992 was hardly the first year our world felt cracked. But the chorus swells my heart as I hear it today.

Since the election I have upped my imperfect offerings: words here on this page, intentional addressing of erosion in incivility, shining my feeble light through cracks here and there.

Yesterday I gently talked with some students who were using the term "white trash" without hearing its racist overtones. It was not my finest teaching moment, but it went okay. It was an imperfect offering.

Can this brokenness we are experiencing as a country generate an outpouring of light, a ringing of the bells that still can ring?

Join me.

Nov. 16, 2016 - Teaching in Trump Country

We all know Iowa went red this year (800,467 Trump; 652,820 for Hillary). But in Cass County where I teach, the split was a whopping 68 percent forTrump, and only 27 percent for Hillary.

This is Trump Country, Iowa. About 40 percent of our students are assisted with free and reduced lunch. Our once-proud agricultural community has suffered the decline seen across rural America. According to census.gov, we dropped another 3.8 percent in population between 2010 and 2015.

We are 97.6 percent white. Our median household income is $43,960. Although 92 percent of our adults have high-school diplomas, only 20 percent have a bachelor's degree or higher.

Almost 22 percent of our residents are over 65, and 13.1 percent of our people are identified as living in poverty.

The Washington Post is running a frequently-updated collection of comments from Trump voters explaining their decisions. Reading them is simultaneously frustrating and enlightening. I hear the humanity--the sincerity--in their voices. And this is tough because the result of their heart-felt concerns is a presidency that terrifies me.

I have been blogging like a firehose this past week, trying to wrap my head around what America will be(come) under the leadership of a person who has trampled the core rules of civility. But mostly I've blogged because I'm re-evaluating my classroom teaching.

My students (whom I love dearly!) had they voted, likely would have checked the Trump ticket. Like the voters in the WP story, they would have shrugged off the abhorrent rhetoric, the demeaning sexual assault language/action, the denigration of the media, and the scary nepotism and cozy alliances with alt-right hate-mongers--not to mention an ignorance of democracy tenets that is stunning.

Why would these factor not weigh more heavily in the decision-making? Is it because we've allowed subtle (and not so subtle) racism and hate-thinking to go unchecked? How often to we wink at good ol' boy comments in the teachers' work room, silently watering the seeds of sexism? Am I consciously teaching empathy and enlarging my students' understanding of the world beyond Cass County?

I cannot change the election results, or the or economic concerns and left-behind fears that seem to have inspired Trump votes. But I can be more deliberate in holding myself and my students to high standards of kindness, acceptance, critical thinking and bravery.

Yesterday a student came to me with a concern about an unkindness she had witnessed. As we talked through her options for addressing it, I realized again how unprepared my students are for finding civil, assertive ways to speak up--even when they know they "should."

As a teacher, I have daily opportunity to model and guide students toward the behaviors Sonia Sotomayor called for in her ABC interview yesterday--and each day I'm waking up with renewed resolve to do it. Here in Trump Country.

Nov. 15, 2017 - First Followers: Raising Quiet Voices

Yesterday I needed to tend a matter away from the classroom just as my freshman English students were entering the room. I asked Zane to get the class started reading--a routine that has gone unbroken for our 58 days together and goes like this: At an exchange with Siri ("Ten-minute timer!"/ "Ten minutes and counting!") silence descends like a curtain on the room. I love the drama of it. And I love the fact that my room--for 10 minutes each day--is a place of calm and solace and reading.  I know that kids by and large love this reading time too, because they tell me they do.

So yesterday when I returned to the classroom and expected to witness silent reading, I was disappointed to instead see about half my class trying to read, another smattering clearly unhappy with the non-reading atmosphere, and a handful of wild things happily celebrating cat's-away play time.

I know better than to leave my classroom unattended, even for a few minutes. One of high-school students' unwritten rules is that anything goes if a teacher is foolish enough to step out of the room. So hoping they'd be reading belies my too-trusting nature as much as my students' normal adolescent behavior.

But this episode carried extra weight for me yesterday. Since last Tuesday's election, I--like many others--have felt a renewed sense of the importance of speaking up, speaking out. I'm realizing my country is going to be led by someone whose sense of civility, whose attitude toward name-calling, whose willingness to speak untruths, are in direct conflict with mine. And given the president's position of power, this will likely mean that the language choices and attitudes Trump displays will become increasingly normalized.

We've seen this already. One example is Trump's inaccurate assertion about the NYTimes on Saturday. The choice of Trump to use his now world-megaphoned voice to discredit (inaccurately) one of the most trusted sources of journalism did not get much traction as a news story because there are so many louder, more urgent stories--such as installment of the dangerous alt-right Breitbart "news source" Steve Bannon as Trump's shoulder angel.

But this is how culture change seeps in. Trump's false claim that NYTimes is losing thousands of subscribers was retweeted 34k times. NYTimes editor Clifford Levy's correction of the inaccuracy was retweeted 13k times. The ratio of inaccuracy to accuracy is more than 2:1.

Trump's election demands that sane, civilized people speak up. Kindly, accurately, firmly. If those in power are willing to berate free press, to degrade people expressing their first amendment rights, to marginalize swaths of people through name-calling and/or policy, those of us mild-mannered sit-and-watch folk will be drowned out. The new normal will not include our voice.

And this brings me back to my gabby freshmen yesterday. When I quieted the room, I asked who among them had wanted to read. Many hands shot up. I then asked who had spoken up to direct others to settle in and get to reading. About half of the hands went down. "We tried..." a couple of students muttered, and I thanked them for that. But we then talked about the need for "first-followers," people who recognize a good choice and step up to support it, creating positive momentum to embolden right action. "I am confident," I told them, "that if all of you who wanted to read had united, you could have quieted the room."

They probably didn't believe me. And maybe they're right. It takes a lot of quiet people drown out the loud ones. Nevertheless, I am going to work with my entire Eng9H class to help them develop their confidence and skill in putting voice to good. The world needs people who are willing to do this, even in small ways, now more than ever.

How to Start a Movement: First Follower TED Talk by Derek Sivers

Nov. 12, 2016 - A Good Day

Two events occurred in my classroom yesterday that reminded me of what I do and why I do it.

First, a 60-something businessperson visited one of my editing classes to talk about how to sell ads. While talking, he took a loop down memory lane and told us about his own high-school journalism adventures. He mentioned his teacher, respectfully, but made a comment to the effect he was never really sure what her role had been, as the students were running the show.

I smiled inside. This is the goal for journalism teachers: to make our kids feel like we are not needed! Among advisers, its something of an honor badge to have students think we don't do much. It's like a ship captain who goes below deck. If she's done her job, the crew won't sink the ship.

The second event was the before-school taping of our editors' Mannequin Challenge video, and late in the day, a Part 2 video produced by one of my intro classes.

My role in the editors' morning silliness was to provide breakfast pizza and shout "We've got ten minutes!" The students decided to spread themselves across Room 408 and the J Lab. They huddled and brainstormed and prepared at lightning speed. One boy said he'd decided not to participate--needed to get to gym--and his classmates embraced him, gave him a role, voiced their need to have him be part of the team.

Although I had a vague sense of the scenes the students were creating, I didn't see their actual poses until we watched the clip together. While I'd been mannequin-frozen at the door to the JLab, two of my editors took the "stealing pizza" chase scene to the table tops. My end-of-the-week classroom is in utter chaos. As I watched the video, I muttered something about "should have cleaned up the place before we filmed." My editors laughed. "This is who we ARE," one said, "and that's good!"

Next, as Kole prepared to add music, we hit a wall. Their desire to put "Black Beetles" as the background tune ("EVERYONE'S doing it, Berryhill!") pushed the limits of copyright fair use. The room joined Kole in a chorus, insisting that using an alternative copyright-free jingle from freeplaymusic.com was Lame with a capital L and would negate the purpose (?) of their product. "I have two jobs," I told them, repeating my mantra: "To make sure you use good grammar, and to keep you legal. If you don't follow my legal advice, you've cut my job in half."

"Yup!" they agreed happily, "We did." They did make two small concessions: they used the clean version of the song, and they posted it to Twitter, where it will not have the shelf life or copyright disabling of Youtube, and where there is not a hint of monetary value associated with its sharing.

AHS Journalism Editors' Mannequin Challenge

I felt weak. I had not done my job.

I felt strong. It was Friday. My students were riotously pleased with themselves, unified in their delight of pulling this off.

When my eighth-period Intro class came in, they'd seen the editors' video from earlier in the day. The request was inevitable: "Can we do that?"

I didn't hesitate. "We have 10 minutes, start to finish, to make this happen," I said, and they were off. As you watch the video, you will not know which of my students are the Trump supporters, which ones were for Hillary. You won't know which ones are on the honor roll, which ones do not have hot water at home, which ones are cutting, which ones won't sleep tonight. What you will see is beginning journalism students learning that they can work together and use positive energy to a shared goal.

Kole (an editor who pretty much lives in the JLab) rendered and posted the "Part 2" video before the hour was up while the Intro kids spent the last half of class learning about photo composition.

AHS Journalism Mannequin Challenge, Part 2

"This was a good day!" a student said when the bell rang. "It was a good day!" others chimed in.

It was a good day.

Nov. 11, 2016 - Assemble!

Each of my journalism classes had brought up the anti-Trump protests in our daily noting of the news, but it wasn't until 8th period that Kenny asked the most important question of the day: "WHY are they protesting? It won't change anything now."

I turned the question back to the kids. Why might people want to gather, to march, to organize walk-outs, despite knowing the election outcome will not change?

The class was not quick to respond to the question. Their faces mirrored Kenny's resigned puzzlement. Most students in my mostly white, mostly Trump, neck of the Iowa woods may not feel natural solidarity with the marchers in Manhattan, Oakland, Portland. Nevertheless, I was surprised that they might question the act of peaceful assembly to voice dissent.

As I reworded Kenny's question, I realized that my own "I get it" thinking about the protests had not gone much deeper than my students' "I don't get it."

"Why might people want to gather together on the streets?" I asked. "What is different about saying 'I'm hurting, I'm angry' to your friends and family and gathering with hundreds or thousands of people in the street? How is the physical act of marching different than writing or talking?"

I pointed to our First Amendment wall. "Which of these five rights are the protesters expressing? Why does 'assemble' get its own separate mention?"

The students began to respond: "To be heard?" "To send a message to Trump?" "To feel less alone?" "To make themselves louder?" They worded their thoughts as questions, as students will do when they're trying on new ideas. We talked about the likelihood of similar (or dissimilar) demonstrations had Clinton won the election, and the value of honoring the right to "peaceably assemble."

As I drove home from school I thought about how much I've needed to blog this week, to put my raw emotions into some sort of order, to find voice for these roiling feelings. To ask someone to listen. I've needed to be heard. Blessedly, I live in a country that allows me to do so. This space is my assembly: my gathering of thoughts and public expression of them.

So when last night I read that Trump had posted this

I felt another huge wave of dismay. How deep can Trump's ignorance of the First Amendment go? The whining of "unfair"--as if "fair play" has ever been his standard of action--fewer than 48 hours after the votes have been counted, is not a good sign.

In 140 characters, Trump has managed to praise himself and degraded two of the five freedoms guaranteed in the first 45 words of the Bill of Rights.

This morning another tweet indicates Trump's handlers have given him a quick and desperate lesson on freedom of assembly, as he posted this an hour ago:

Somewhere in the night he went from pouting about the protests to celebrating them as expression of "passion for our great country." Of course his use of the word "small" shows his inability to refrain from a dig--or to count.

I want to thank those of you who have reached out to assemble this week: on social media, here at this blog, in lunch rooms--and most visibly, on the streets.

Nov. 10, 2016 - The Me Students See

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer 11 years ago, I remember thinking "Ah! So this is what a cancer diagnosis feels like." It gave me a surreal feeling that combined "This is unthinkable" with "Hey, I'm still me."

My feelings yesterday were not dissimilar: "So this is what it feels like if Trump is elected president"--balancing "This is unbearable" and "Okay, here we go."

I wore jeans and a "Got First Amendment Rights?" t-shirt to school--comfort clothes. I admit I called most of my students by the wrong names and finished only a fraction of my sentences. But I was functioning with 5% brain space because I had boxed up the 95% of my mind that isn't ready to look at this American Tragedy square on yet. I got through the day.

Before our daily sharing of news in Intro to Journalism, I reminded students that we've been watching extreme emotions swirl around the election for months. Regardless of the outcome, we knew Nov. 9 would see either half an electorate fueled by anger and shouts of "fraud," or half an electorate reeling with fear and dismay. We got fear and dismay.

As is always the policy in the J room, we discuss news objectively and without bias. There is no ranting. My job is to teach clear thinking. Walking the journalist's walk three times a day is an interesting exercise in modeling objectivity. And if I'm doing it right, within the walls Room #408, students don't know my personal political choices.

Still, it surprises me when students ask point blank who I vote(d) for. I answer with a wink, telling them that a beauty of our democracy is a private voting system. But I always wonder: Can't you tell? Is there anything about me as a teacher, as a person, that would make you think I'd support a xenophobic, misogynistic hate-monger? Or if not that, would I fall in line behind incivility, name-calling and flagrant celebration of ignorance?

On Nov. 10, I am standing taller, with a new sense of urgency. I am resolved to bring my responsibility as a role model to the front of my consciousness. Students must see me up-standing daily;  they must see me "go high" as often as possible; they must hear me call out the dangers of mockery and vile language used to degrade and marginalize individuals or groups of people.

My cancer diagnosis lit a fire under me. It caused me to live deliberately and more authentically. Trump's election has done something similar. I will be a better teacher, a better person.

Nov. 9, 2016 - The Day After

During the past months, I wondered, if Trump won, how would I even go to school on Nov. 9?  I knew I would feel sick, dismayed, despairing. And I do.

But last night as I tossed and turned, my only mental resting spot was to focus on what will be the same today, regardless of the election outcome.  I know this is a form of denial, but today, I need to tighten my lens, look at what is right in front of me, focus on what has NOT changed:

The sun will come up.

My job--to teach kindness, manners, acceptance of others, appreciation of differences, listening skills, group problem-solving, and critical thinking--is still important; no--more important than ever. There will not be a single day in the next four years that I will have to wonder if I'm needed.

At least two or three of my Eng9H kids will finish books today and will be eager to tell me their reactions and plans for their next books.

Three of my students are delivering speeches (public oral commitments to something of value) today. I know from what I observed yesterday that their classmates will listen respectfully and be generous with praise. This doesn't happen by chance. We practice civility every day in Room #408.

My students in another class have been teaching each other how to recognize and correct knotty homophone mistakes. They have been creative and funny, developing mnemonic devices to help lift each other out of confusion! This morning I will write an assessment to help them determine if their teaching (and learning) have been successful. I look forward to this. It is a small, focused task I can accomplish.

I will stand in the hall between classes and greet students like I'm glad to see them, because I am.

Students will come in during their study halls to put the final touches on this week's newscast. During class we will critique the show, celebrating improvements, planning to do better next week. We will voice criticism in helpful, polite ways.

Emma and Rachelle and I will share lunch, loaves and fishes style, and thank each other profusely for whatever day-old muffins or broccoli salad or left-over soup we brought. We will laugh. (Okay, we might also cry.)

My administrators and I will pass in the hall, or I'll show up at their door. We will treat each other respectfully. I will feel supported and valued. I hope they do too.

I will laugh with my students many, many times today.  I think Nov. 9 is the day we'll finally hang the foam basketball hoop in the Jlab.

At the end of the day, we'll have professional development, which is a time I get to practice my own civility skills.

I will then drive home, exhausted, having emptied the last drop in my bucket of energy.

I will call my children and hear their day's joys and woes.

I will ride with my husband in the combine on this last day of harvest.

The sun will set.

And it will rise again tomorrow.