I start each morning circumventing basketballs launched across my classroom. This sport, a cross between dodge-a-desk, WWE wrestling, and Fisher Price basketball, is the epicenter of my homeroom. With the buzz of computers newly aglow after a night's slumber, the frenetic motion of feet avoiding "fouls," and the charged murmur of voices hovering in the atmosphere, I have somehow been able to glean essential wisdom from my students during this time. I do not remember how many times I have been hit in the head, but a good round of Primus Hoops allows the voices of my students to rise above the everyday angst and annoyances many teens typically articulate. It is in these moments coated with youthful zeal, that I get the best "stuff" for class. My students unwittingly help me keep the “adolescent” integral to our study of literature, particularly as we explore young adult themes.
My first formal attempt to maximize the impact my students' opinions had on what we studied came in 2010 after a conversation with RJ, a student frequently willing to test the limits of inquiry. At the time, we'd just finished reading Twelve Angry Men. My ears rose to attention when I heard him grumble about the play. His tone and affect were peculiarly reminiscent as I envisioned myself as an inquisitive teen. His description of the text as "boring" and "depressing" crept into my multitasking teacher sphere, and I called him out. Our conversation morphed into a class discussion, as he led the charge. I wanted to know what the boys thought and asked what could be better. While it could have been the kiss of death for me, this impromptu conversation encouraged a closer look at the other texts we read in class.
Though seemingly haphazard, their venting tapped into a truth. There were areas of their lives and their stories as they lived them, which were invisible in the texts. Issues of gender (“how do girls think about this, Ms. P?”), sexuality, race, and what it means to be “a man” became constant themes the boys wanted to explore in literature. I began to see that student voices and experiences could provide useful insights as I planned activities and chose texts. My students could be co-collaborators for our English literature curriculum. This realization prompted a formal research project entitled Listening In: Boys and Curriculum Meaning Making.
I continued to have informal conversations with students about the literature we read, their interests, and the kinds of experiences they had in English class. I wanted to know a few things:
- What do boys "get" from English literature? What do they “want” from it?
- What role can they play in the development of English curriculum? Does it matter that they do?
- How do I (as a teacher) influence what they experience in class?
I kept a record of poignant interactions on a blog, crafted field notes, and formalized the process by obtaining appropriate permissions to record (both video and audio) my students. This work was further validated when IRA granted complementary funding through the Teacher-As-Researcher grant program. As a pretty novice researcher working with teenagers, Murphy’s Law abounded daily, but this project has had an indelible impact on my growth as an English teacher.Here’s an early excerpt from my blog notes:
October 27, 2010
Underway...
It's been a bit more than a week since my last post and Listening In is in full swing at The School. The boys really seem interested in delving more into themselves as they explore characters, talk about what it means to be a young man, and engage with each other.
By happenstance I found a really interesting short story by Lois Gould titled, “X: A Story of Childhood.” I'd already chosen my "gender" short story for this project, but I couldn't help using it. The story centers on a baby raised in a unique experiment; could a child be raised gender neutral? In the story, Mom and Dad go against the grain in their interactions with Baby X (Mom teaches the baby about sports; Dad encourages cooking and Barbies). The boys were perplexed with such an idea at first. They asked questions that centered around biology (genetic "sex") and how Baby X would fare in adolescence. We discussed the feasibility of such an experiment and then I had the boys craft a "glimpse" of what life would be like for X as a teen. What advantages or difficulties would X face? What the boys produced was great. It was one of their first creative writing opportunities and they excelled. The story was a great prelude to short story chosen for the project, "Girl."
Yesterday, I decided to have the boys write down a typical day's schedule (from the moment the wake up until they fall asleep). Last week, I'd asked the boys to think about how being a boy influenced their home lives. Do they have specific responsibilities or chores? Are they expected to carry themselves in a particular fashion (either at home or because of what they've been taught at home)? The responses that I received were good, but they didn't necessarily get as specific as I'd hoped. I decided to break down the task even further. How could I get at those expectations, chores, and tasks without frankly saying that's what I was looking for?
I came up with a few things I could use for daily writing prompts:
- typical day's schedule
- manners learned at home or expected at home
- what does a mess look like? Smell like? How would this compare to how a girl might answer this question?
The boys really enjoyed writing down their daily schedule. When we discussed them, I asked what patterns they observed. Who determines what you do when? What kind of routines do you have? I learned that some loved watching the same TV show at the same time every day. Others had the exact same snack every day. Still more had responsibilities that actually broke gender stereotypes. A few had cooking responsibilities or laundry duty. Older brothers were entrusted to care for younger siblings, particularly girls.
After this task, I assigned Jamaica Kincaid's very short story, "Girl." We've simultaneously been learning and writing with semi-colons/commas, so the boys have been quick to point out the grammatical nuances of the story. Later this week, we'll discuss the story in depth. I wonder if they'll see how each of the daily writing prompts (written from their male perspective) relates to the protagonist of the story.
Signing off...
How often do our curricular prep, text choices, and classroom activities respond to or reflect the musings or misanthropic murmurs of 21st century teens? Should they? As a teacher, I have realized that too often, we perpetuate those very norms our adolescent students despise when it comes to speaking up, voicing an opinion, and offering an unadulterated perspective. We hush them, take it personally, and quip that they’ll “understand when they get older.” We don't mean to do it. It’s kind of par for the course. There are plenty of people, situations, and "things" that occupy our brains at any given moment, so the grumblings of students are invariably “tuned out.” Yet, we know, whether through positive behavior or non-compliance, their thoughts influence how we “do school.”
Come see Nakeiha Primus present on “Co-Creating with the Boys: Rosenblatt in Praxis” at the Becoming a Teacher Researcher: Exploring IRA’s Teacher as Researcher Grant research workshop at the IRA 59th Annual Conference on Sunday, May 11, 2014, at 11:00 a.m.
Nakeiha Primus Nakeiha Primus currently teaches English at the Haverford School. She completed her undergraduate studies in English and American studies at Tufts University, obtained her MA in teaching degree from Duke University, and is currently a Ph.D candidate at the University of Delaware. Her research merges interests in curriculum theory, literary theory, and socio-cultural approaches to learning. She loves contemporary literature of the Americas, but has an immense soft spot for Shakespeare, adolescent literature, and West African poetry. Visit her blog, mid/scribble, and follow her on Twitter (@docpr1me).