The Tax Man Cometh today… so I decided to do a free webinar providing some tool and insights on using Poetry in the classroom.

My theme: Is Poetry Dead?

My answer: Heck no!

In case you haven’t been paying attention, the past few years have seen an absolutely amazing renaissance in poetry… particularly when it come to teens and their interest in reading, writing and performing (via spoken word) poetry.

Truly, it energizes a classroom in such an electric manner that to try and even describe it is simply not possible. You just gotta live it to see it.

And the truth is, it’s SO EASY to replicate in your own classroom.

Later today, I am going to talk about this, provide some free tools and teaching tips and thoughts on how to tackle the teaching of poetry and so on because hey, Uncle Sam might be reaching into your pocket today but since it’s National Poetry Month I figured why not try to put something of solid value — and of no cost — in your teacher’s bag as well.

To check it out, simply go here.

In closing today, I’ll end with a little poetry about taxes… as authored by The Beatles.

If you drive a car, I’ll tax the street,
If you try to sit, I’ll tax your seat,
If you get too cold, I’ll tax the heat,
If you take a walk, I’ll tax your feet.

‘Cause I’m the taxman,
Yeah, I’m the taxman.

How come almost so many things a teacher can say at the front of the room during instruction can be twisted by freshman boys into some sort of sexual reference?

For example, I just used the phrase “he stiffened up” in a class of freshman (referring to the emotion of fear in a piece of lit we were reading)… and BAM, out came the giggles.

Har-Har… he ‘stiffened’ up. 10 kids laughed.

Of course, as soon as the words left my lips, I knew I was in trouble… and I truly wish I would have chosen a different means of describing how this person’s spine became more erect from fear.

I said FROM FEAR!

D’Oh! here we go again.

This is pretty much the reason why I just let the guffaws pass and keep on teaching when I toss up a few unintentional “sex ref” softballs that my freshman boys can wallop easily out of the park… because the chances of me trying to reframe the conversation and clarify what I meant will probably only add more fuel to their young fire and cause even more tangential links to the human penis.

You gotta admit, freshman boys can be pretty ingenious. I mean I have seen them link the most asexual things to human anatomy in a way that boggles the mind. And when they do, nowadays, I just play ostrich: I pretend I didn’t hear what they said, bury my head under the well-worn carpet and keep right on teaching… cause to stop risks disaster.

Then again, in the spirit of full disclosure, another part of me knows that if we were to wind back the clock about a hundred years to when I was a freshman in high school, well… for anyone who doubts the rule of karma exists, I’d say I could probably offer some anecdotal proof.

Maybe this aspect of my career is just a case of the stiff chickens coming home to roost?

Jim Burke turned me onto this NY Times article about the “Napsterization of Books” and I gotta say, it kinda sends a chill up my spine. Why? Well, because first and foremost, I am an author. I feed my family, pay my house bills and supplement my teaching income working in a high school (because who, in California, can afford to “merely” live on a single teaching income… another story all together) through writing books.

And I just finished my 9th title. (I have 3 more works that will be on the shelves by the summer of 2011). It takes me years to write and publish a book and the idea that it can be pirated in seconds well, let’s just say that I am hoping for a little regulation of the Wild West on this front and that somebody somewhere learns a lil’ somethin’ somethin’ from what happened to the music industry.

I mean it’s one thing if I choose to give away my own material free on the internet (which I do in many ways, shapes and forms) but it’s entirely another if someone takes what is mine and posts it. Last I checked, that was called stealing.

Now, the thing is, it’s not like I have a problem with digital media, 21rst century technology and even an evolution off of Guttenberg’s printing press — but if it comes at the expense of legitimacy, well, this one strikes home BIG TIME.

And all the authors I know are fearful of this kind of scenario. I mean we write books and if people do not like the content, the price, the subject matter and so on, they do not have to buy them. But if they do want to read the stories, text, information, etc… why in the world is it just cool to take it?

Just because one can?

J.K. Rowling was pretty much on welfare when she wrote Harry Potter. Does she not deserve a wee bit of a payday for the work she did? If Potter was napsterized and read by as many people as it was yet Rowling was still on the dole because of illegal downloading, would that be just?

Yet, is that not the way this could potentially be headed?

Right now the book piracy problem is in its infancy — especially when compared to movies and music. But for how long?

And what can be done?

I’m not afraid to say it, The Napsterization of Books Freaks Me Out!!

Now no, I am not objective and yes, I already feel threatened by Google’s plan… though they are working with the Author’s Guild to create a system that is financially fair to all.

But how does this play out going forward? I mean if no one ever had to buy a book again because all books were free (due to the illegal availability of them) how does the world of writing — both fiction and non-fiction move forward?

I know not — and when you have skin in the game, it can make for sleepless nights.

A part of my teaching life is paralyzed by feelings of perpetual professional inadequacy. And I feel like I am not alone.

I mean I finally get a grip on how to effectively teach theme and then I recognize the value that incorporating a classroom wiki could have. So I learn how to add this tool to my growing digital teaching arsenal but realize that there are some really high qualities insights to be gained by doing a bit more reading on using inquiry in the classroom. So I start to dive into inquiry theory when the idea of crafting a variance on student portfolios rears its head. Of course, there’s finding new ways to make Langston Hughes more accessible, figuring out if there is a better way to manage the paperwork, taking on a few more school duties so that I am really a part of a team and not just an island among other islands in this thing we called a “unified school district” even though it seems as though we are really quite separate and distinct from one another in so many various ways…

and on and on and on.

I mean, I am never at a place of just feeling comfortable with my current repertoire or abilities. There is always more to learn how to do unless I want to bury my head in the sand about the idea of the need for me to learn more in order for me to do a better job with kids.

But there is so much to learn — and so much that I am teaching once I learn it — that not even summer really provides me a sense of respite. It’s like people have this image of educator as summertime loafers who simply put school in a box,close the lid then fish, nap and grill on the bbq until back-to-school season rolls around.

Yet none of the teachers I admire (and there are scores of them) really approach their jobs — or their summers — this way. Sure, they relax over summer, take a trip and chill or whatever, but do they forget their classrooms? School? The plight of contemporary American education?

Or, do they already show a ton of concern for kids they have not yet even yet met (think about that, we deeply care for people we have not even yet met) and conjure up ways to better reach and teach them even if it is the middle of July and there’s not a school bell set to ring for well over a fortnight? (BTW, I always wanted to use the word fortnight in my writing. Check that off the list of things to do before I die.)

So, how do I get over the hump of feeling as if I still need to learn so much more? Is to be a teacher really to be a perpetual student? Does one ever ascend to the level of “master” and if so, does mastery mean you need to work less hard, as hard, or more hard in order to to learn the mysterious ways of the secret ninja teacher warrior?

I’ve read scores and scores of books on the art and science of teaching. Many of the big names, lots of small ones, folks who have had some genuinely brilliant stuff to say and others who struck me as flat out nincompoops. But I think that one of the most important things I have taken away from all my “studies” is something about which everyone in our profession needs to be frequently reminded.

We flub. We mess up. We make mistakes… on almost a daily basis.

Sure, there are days when their is magic at the whiteboard, as if our dry erase markers were an alchemist’s wand turning neurological water into cranial fine wine. But most days, balls are dropped. Opportunities come up but they are not seized. Something exceptional is planned and it falls flat on its face. I come off as salty when in fact I am in a great mood but merely pressed for time. Yes, I always want to be attuned to the individual needs of all my kids –especially the ones that merely need a friendly, encouraging voice that day — but when I am in the midst of navigating 186 other kids over the course of 7 hours and the fire alarm has just been pulled for the fourth time in a row during third period by a buncha comedians in the halls, I sometimes miss the cues.

I aim to do great and then I find myself just barely hanging on. The last bell of the day rings and I realize that I did not get done nearly the amount of things I needed to do in order for tomorrow to function the way it ought to. Friday hits and I realize that I really need to work both Saturday and Sunday in order to make sure Monday is gonna work the way it needs to — and in the ways my kids deserve it to.

But I’ve got plans with the family, errands long left undone, a stack of paperwork from my own life to navigate (like the very pedestrian necessity of paying bills) and my pillow is taunting me with the idea of actually getting more than 5 1/2 hours of sleep every night.

And do I manage it all in some sort of suave, filled-with-European panache fashion? Hell no. I stumble forward, bang my foot into the dresser and screw up.

I bumble and stumble forward. And this is after 10 years at Lynwood High and even longer than that in the profession.

Yet, the difference now is that I understand this about teaching. I get that this is the nature of our career beast. Early in my career I used to get down on myself, really beat the crap out of myself. Think to myself, “Ya know, you really stink at this — and you are working at almost maximum life capacity to be this bad. It’s hard, I am no good, and the kids deserve better. Shouldn’t you pack up and go find a cubicle somewhere that offers bathroom breaks any time you need to pee?”

However, with experience, that negative-loop tape recording no longer plays in my head. Why? Because I’ve come to realize no one ever masters the art of teaching. No one is immune to falling short, fouling up, getting caught in a situation for which you were completely unprepared and acting in ways that, “Oh, if I could only turn back the clock 45 minutes and get a do-over, the world would be so much better.”

It just doesn’t happen.

And so here I am, so frequently with my tail between my legs. But if I set my intention to do as well as I can do, continue to try and improve my craft, make sure that I learn from my mistakes and remain optimistic about the future, I think I am gonna be alright.

And if I can remain alright, I do believe I have something of great value to offer my kids. Even if sometimes I am going to trip and fall and bang my head on a desk in front of a room full of teenagers who are gonna make no bones about laughing at me and telling all their friends at lunch what a dork Mr. Alan is.

Cause at the end of the day, this is a job that can only be highlighted in a “And warts and all” type of fashion. There is just no way to ever avoid the, as Homer Simpson would say, “D’Oh!” of being a teacher.

So yesterday we had walk-throughs. Basically, under the punitive rule of NCLB being that we are a Probationary 3 (I think) school, we have muckety-mucks come in from the… well, I am not sure where this lady came from… to “evaluate” our classes.

So this lady walks into my room with her little checksheet and starts scrutinizing. She checks for things. Mysterious things. Things that are supposed to prove I am teaching and my students are learning.

Having the content standards written on the board seems to be quite important to her. I always have them up but the truth is, I only really do it for the muckety-mucks because in reality, I see virtually no educational value to posting these things on the board. Teaching them is very important. Writing them on the board is practically irrelevant. I mean, it is a reminder to myself of what I am supposed to be doing? That’s kinda like putting a post-it note on my bathroom mirror in the morning reminding myself to “BRUSH YOUR TEETH” isn’t it? And just because the post-it note exists, this doesn’t mean that I will have brushed my teeth. And if the post it note is not there it doesn’t mean I won’t have brushed them either. Writing things on the board such as this strikes me as superfluous… but when you are a muckety-muck with checksheets there are boxes to put X’s through and this seems to be one of the bigger ones.

And how in the heck would she know if I simply put some standards on the board when school started in September and just left the same ones there all year in case muckety-mucks like her popped in for a surprise visit?

Administrators hate those kinds of questions, don’t they?

Overall, I felt “judged” by this woman with all the negative connotation the word “judged” musters. I recall no positive acknowledgement of what I was doing right. (And she walked into a class of high school freshman who were all 100% silent at their desks composing a response to literature based on a novel we were reading — no small feat if you know what it’s like to teach English 9). I obtained no useful feedback as to how my craft could be improved. (But in full disclosure, I sincerely doubt that the input of a muckety-muck who spent a grand total of about 5 minutes in my room would have given her any credibility to comment on my methodologies). And truly, I questioned whether or not she could even step into a high school classroom and actually perform the job she had been assigned to evaluate. She just didn’t seem like she had the verve, the energy, the spirit nor the determination to actually be a real teacher.

But she’s perfectly qualified to evaluate other real teachers, right? Essentially, her short visit left me dispirited.

Then today came and my students rocked a few projects whereby the applied their knowledge of figurative language by creating digital slide shows with musical sound tracks explicating the difference between similes and metaphors through one of 5 themes evident in the novel Tears of a Tiger… and the world was right again.

I mean, I love teaching but the muckety-mucks are like some sort of wet blanket on my fire to do this job. It’s obvious that we, as a nation, don’t trust our professional educators anymore to be professional educators and the fact is, it’s demoralizing. I mean this muckety-muck could have said something positive. She could have tipped her cap to my work ethic, efforts to reach my kids, obvious demonstration of classroom management and on and on and on.

But what did she care about? Her checksheet. And what do I care about? My kids. And you know what, I don’t think they are the same thing.

So yes, I put the standards on the board to avoid confrontation because with so many battles to fight with the muckety-mucks, this seems like one that’s not really worth it. But teaching is not about the checksheets. It’s about the students and I’d venture to say that nowhere on her list were things like “students felt emotionally safe in the environment to express their genuine inner feelings and the educator’s policy of running a Mock Free Zone contributed to a tangible — if ineffable — sense of classroom community.”

Geesh? Why do paper pushers have so much clout?

Michael Cirelli flew in from New York and for the past few days we’ve been hammering away at the creation of our super-secret, top-priority, no one knows about it, ultimate urban, supremely-stealth literacy weapon.

Okay, you got me. It’s BookJam #6 on the horizon… The Poetry Jam. Flat out, this thing is going to be off the charts!! If you are not familiar with Michael, you are missing out on knowing about the work of of one amazing guy in the world of contemporary poetry. And not only is he a GREAT writer and performer, he is one of the nation’s leading teachers in the world of teaching spoken word poetry to teens. Ever heard of Urban Word NYC? If not, you have no idea what kind of cool stuff the kids in our country are doing with words, ideas, books, and passion these days.

Michael Cirelli and Alan Sitomer already teamed up once — and this is what they created.

The Poetry Jam. We broke ground today big time today. Look for it in 2010. Once again, the best teaching I have ever done.

Go ‘head. Chime in on the ning. We need you.