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#teaching things
rachel-614 · 1 year
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Okay, let me tell you a story:
Once upon a time, there was a prose translation of the Pearl Poet’s Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It was wonderfully charming and lyrical and perfect for use in a high school, and so a clever English teacher (as one did in the 70s) made a scan of the book for her students, saved it as a pdf, and printed copies off for her students every year. In true teacher tradition, she shared the file with her colleagues, and so for many years the students of the high school all studied Sir Gawain and the Green Knight from the same (very badly scanned) version of this wonderful prose translation.
In time, a new teacher became head of the English Department, and while he agreed that the prose translation was very wonderful he felt that the quality of the scan was much less so. Also in true teacher tradition, he then spent hours typing up the scan into a word processor, with a few typos here and there and a few places where he was genuinely just guessing wildly at what the scan actually said. This completed word document was much cleaner and easier for the students to read, and so of course he shared it with his colleagues, including his very new wide-eyed faculty member who was teaching British Literature for the first time (this was me).
As teachers sometimes do, he moved on for greener (ie, better paying) pastures, leaving behind the word document, but not the original pdf scan. This of course meant that as I was attempting to verify whether a weird word was a typo or a genuine artifact of the original translation, I had no other version to compare it to. Being a good card-holding gen zillenial I of course turned to google, making good use of the super secret plagiarism-checking teacher technique “Quotation Marks”, with an astonishing result:
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By which I mean literally one result.
For my purposes, this was precisely what I needed: a very clean and crisp scan that allowed me to make corrections to my typed edition: a happily ever after, amen.
But beware, for deep within my soul a terrible Monster was stirring. Bane of procrastinators everywhere, my Curiosity had found a likely looking rabbit hole. See, this wonderfully clear and crisp scan was lacking in two rather important pieces of identifying information: the title of the book from which the scan was taken, and the name of the translator. The only identifying features were the section title “Precursors” (and no, that is not the title of the book, believe me I looked) and this little leaf-like motif by the page numbers:
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(Remember the leaf. This will be important later.)
We shall not dwell at length on the hours of internet research that ensued—how the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, grading abandoned in shadows half-lit by the the blue glow of the computer screen—how google search after search racked up, until an email warning of “unusual activity on your account” flashed into momentary existence before being consigned immediately and with some prejudice to the digital void—how one third of the way through a “comprehensive but not exhaustive” list of Sir Gawain translators despair crept in until I was left in utter darkness, screen black and eyes staring dully at the wall.
Above all, let us not admit to the fact that such an afternoon occurred not once, not twice, but three times.
Suffice to say, many hours had been spent in fruitless pursuit before a new thought crept in: if this book was so mysterious, so obscure as to defeat the modern search engine, perhaps the answer lay not in the technologies of today, but the wisdom of the past. Fingers trembling, I pulled up the last blast email that had been sent to current and former faculty and staff, and began to compose an email to the timeless and indomitable woman who had taught English to me when I was a student, and who had, after nearly fifty years, retired from teaching just before I returned to my alma mater.
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After staring at the email for approximately five or so minutes, I winced, pressed send, and let my plea sail out into the void. I cannot adequately describe for you the instinctive reverence I possess towards this teacher; suffice to say that Ms English was and is a woman of remarkable character, as much a legend as an institution as a woman of flesh and blood whose enduring influence inspired countless students. There is not a student taught by Ms. English who does not have a story to tell about her, and her decline in her last years of teaching and eventual retirement in the face of COVID was the end of an era. She still remembers me, and every couple months one of her contemporaries and dear friends who still works as a guidance counsellor stops me in the hall to tell me that Ms. English says hello and that she is thrilled that I am teaching here—thrilled that I am teaching honors students—thrilled that I am now teaching the AP students. “Tell her I said hello back,” I always say, and smile.
Ms. English is a legend, and one does not expect legends to respond to you immediately. Who knows when a woman of her generation would next think to check her email? Who knows if she would remember?
The day after I sent the email I got this response:
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My friends, I was shaken. I was stunned. Imagine asking God a question and he turns to you and says, “Hold on one moment, let me check with my predecessor.”
The idea that even Ms. English had inherited this mysterious translation had never even occurred to me as a possibility, not when Ms. English had been a faculty member since the early days of the school. How wonderful, I thought to myself. What a great thing, that this translation is so obscure and mysterious that it defeats even Ms. English.
A few days later, Ms. English emailed me again:
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(I had, in fact searched through both the English office and the Annex—a dark, weirdly shaped concrete storage area containing a great deal of dust and many aging copies of various books—a few days prior. I had no luck, sadly.)
At last, though, I had a title and a description! I returned to my internet search, only to find to my dismay that there was no book that exactly matched the title. I found THE BRITISH TRADITION: POETRY, PROSE, AND DRAMA (which was not black and the table of contents I found did not include Sir Gawain) and THE ENGLISH TRADITION, a super early edition of the Prentice Hall textbooks we use today, which did have a black cover but there were absolutely zero images I could find of the table of contents or the interior and so I had no way of determining if it was the correct book short of laying out an unfortunate amount of cold hard cash for a potential dead end.
So I sighed, and relinquished my dreams of solving the mystery. Perhaps someday 30 years from now, I thought, I’ll be wandering through one of those mysterious bookshops filled with out of print books and I’ll pick up a book and there will be the translation, found out last!
So I sighed, and told the whole story to my colleagues for a laugh. I sent screenshots of Ms. English’s emails to my siblings who were also taught by her. I told the story to my Dad over dinner as my Great Adventure of the Week.
…my friends. I come by my rabbit-hole curiosity honestly, but my Dad is of a different generation of computer literacy and knows a few Deep Secrets that I have never learned. He asked me the title that Ms. English gave me, pulled up some mysterious catalogue site, and within ten minutes found a title card. There are apparently two copies available in libraries worldwide, one in Philadelphia and the other in British Columbia. I said, “sure, Dad,” and went upstairs. He texted me a link. Rolling my eyes, I opened it and looked at the description.
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Huh, I thought. Four volumes, just like Ms. English said. I wonder…
Armed with a slightly different title and a publisher, I looked up “The English Tradition: Fiction macmillan” and the first entry is an eBay sale that had picture of the interior and LO AND BEHOLD:
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THE LEAF. LOOK AT THE LEAF.
My dad found it! He found the book!!
Except for one teensy tiny problem which is that the cover of the book is uh a very bright green and not at all black like Ms. English said. Alas, it was a case of mistaken identity, because The English Tradition: Poetry does have a black cover, although it is the fiction volume which contains Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
And so having found the book at last, I have decided to purchase it for the sum of $8, that ever after the origins of this translation may once more be known.
In this year of 2022 this adventure took place, as this post bears witness, the end, amen.
(Edit: See here for part 2!)
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cupsnpages · 24 days
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I've been meaning to post this for a while now. It is aimed at language teachers, specifically if you're an English teacher as a foreign and/or second language. I found these resources here and you can find more articles and ppt presentations on the same website. I hope this is helpful for you! :)
Teaching Grammar for Communicative Competence
Understanding and Teaching Generation Y
Formative Assessment Strategies for the Student-Centered Classroom
Using Visible Thinking Routines in the Language Classroom
Meeting EFL Learners Halfway by Using Locally Relevant Authentic Materials
Minimizing the Chaos through Cooperative Classroom Management
Task-Based Reading Activities Using Authentic Materials and Skills
Drama-Based Activities to Improve Student Confidence and Motivation
Language Teaching through Critical Thinking and Self-Awareness
Encouraging Critical Reading in the EFL Classroom
Developing Grammar Proficiency Through Communicative Activities
Promoting Gender Equality in the English Language Classroom
Strategic Corrective Feedback in the EFL Classroom
Brain-based Strategies and Critical Thinking to Maximize Vocabulary Acquisition
Student-Centered Teaching in Large Classes with Limited Resources
Developing Teacher Leadership Skills
Climate Change Communication and English Language Teaching
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disregardcanon · 7 months
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i complimented a kid's journal today and they were like "thanks! that's where i draw my gay characters!" and i was like "uh... can i? see? your gay characters?" and then they showed me all their ocs with the little pride flags drawn beside them and told me all their names and sexualities and genders and then they were like "you're my favorite grownup now <3"
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definitelynotasiren · 15 days
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My 5th grade tutoring student drew a “pig” today.
She finished the drawing took step back and said “Miss, I don’t know how to draw a pig”
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athousandmorningss · 25 days
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I'm really appalled that I get one life on this earth and I have to spend so much of it grading.
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donteatthefishtacos · 2 years
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I’ve wanted to do this for some years…. But I haven’t wanted to ask my lead teacher for permission to do it. But this year, I’m the lead teacher.
Fuck it: we’re doing book memes
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Because memes actually demonstrate an understanding of the material, or lack thereof.
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We've gone so far to the digital side of things in teaching, hat I'm slowly starting to veer more toward handwritten assignments again.
I've actually found myself questioning student work constantly the last couple years. How much of it is their idea? Did they sit there and ponder, or "Google" and respond?
The essays I'll be getting this week were completely handwritten first. All in class. Then typed. In class.
I've glanced at a few excerpts and my heart feels so much warmer.
The VOICE of these kids is coming out.
The answers aren't all stock responses from Google rephrased enough to avoid plagiarism.
This is what I've realized has really been lost and what I want to have return.
VOICE!
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roosterzebra · 2 months
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me, a tired academic recovering from the weekend: 'hey kids, today we're learning about prison abolition'
*rolls out vhs player tv with the documentary 12th playing*
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hansoeii · 7 months
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Do you think of me?
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sapphosewrites · 8 months
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Teaching creative writing to 8 to 12 year olds this summer, a demographic whose stories include a shocking amount of murder. The use of "unalive" was so egregious I had to tell them, "if you aren't comfortable using the words death, die, and kill, you aren't mature enough to be writing about them yet". Kiddo asked me if that applies to adults as well, and I told them it very much does, so here's a PSA.
If you aren't comfortable using the words death, die, and kill, you aren't mature enough to be writing about them yet.
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ofmdaily · 6 months
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you know me better than anyone has ever known me, and i dare say the same is true for me about you.
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rachel-614 · 1 year
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reading North and South with my ap students and I am LIVING for her descriptions of Margaret and Mr. Thornton’s attraction/interactions
it’s so relatable just listen to this:
She had a bracelet on one taper arm, which would fall down over her round wrist. Mr. Thornton watched the re-placing of this troublesome ornament with far more attention than he listened to her father. It seemed as if it fascinated him to see her push it up impatiently, until it tightened her soft flesh; and then to mark the loosening—the fall. He could almost have exclaimed—“There it goes, again!”
And then this:
But he never went near her himself; he did not look at her. Only, he knew what she was doing—or not doing—better than he knew the movements of any one else in the room
Which dovetails beautifully with this:
Margaret stood up by the table, half afraid of moving or making any noise to arouse Mr. Thornton into a consciousness of her being in the room. She thought it would be awkward for both to be brought into conscious collision; and fancied that, from her being on a low seat at first, and now standing behind her father, he had overlooked her in his haste. As if he did not feel the consciousness of her presence all over, though his eyes had never rested on her!
As a bonus:
“You must give them to me,” she said, trying to take them out of his hand with gentle violence.
“Very well. Only you must pay me for them!”
“How shall I ever tell Aunt Shaw?” She whispered, after some time of delicious silence.
I dare you to find a more delightful euphemism for a kiss. I dare you.
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disregardcanon · 1 month
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So one of my sixth graders has been bringing fnaf plushies to school, and I put a kiss on my hand and then put it on the plushies’ foreheads, because I’m GREAT and today one of the other kids was like why do you do that. And I say “oh well I think the ghosts of dead children need a little love sometimes” and he goes WHAT!!?!!?! And I’m like it’s a five nights at Freddy’s plushie. All the fnaf characters are dead kids in animatronic suits. And the kid goes ?,!?!?$,!, and I’m like child this is basic lore I am NOT the weird one for knowing fnaf stuff. You’re a sixth grade boy. Step up your game 😂
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bbyteach · 1 month
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It’s possible Ed’s done this a couple times already
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athousandmorningss · 3 months
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The Spring Semester 2024 Begins. I weep as our girl Meredith did upon the beach.
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lavenderleahy · 8 months
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I'm a reading specialist and have been assessing middle school students with reading difficulties. For some reason a lot of the students are adding Rs, Ls, and Ns to words, especially on the nonsense word fluency subtest. So if the nonsense word is "sut" they may say "snut" or "sunt."
Anyways the number of times I heard the word "porn" come out of pre-teens' mouths today is astounding.
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