Sunday, May 20, 2007
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Music to Launch You.
Something happened. I had chosen the music carefully. Prefuse 73. Fridge. Broken Social Scene. No words. Only waves of sound. Backbeats. Blips. Slow-motion melodies. Music to launch you, to drift you off into your own mental space. Music to write to. And they were actually writing. There was freedom. They could sit wherever they wanted to, well almost wherever they wanted to. The G-Master wanted to sit outside on the steps. It was a gorgeous day. I told him he needed to be in the classroom. If I'd taken them all outside, there would have been issues. No music. Too much freedom, no writing. Sneezing. Dog poop. Issues. So, the door is open. The breeze blows in. The music is taking them. And they are actually writing.
The day before, their homework was to observe. On their way home from school, as soon as the final bell rang, they were to take detailed notes on the process. No speaking. Just observing. The five senses. Imagine you are writing to a blind person. What do you see? To a deaf person, what do you hear? ("But Mr. Hill, if you're blind, you don't know what anything looks like. If you're deaf, you don't know what anything sounds like!") Right. Just recently blinded. A freak accident. Just lost their hearing. Just last year. Unfortunate. Use your senses. No talking. If you're speaking, you can't be observing in the true sense. Alright, go forth. Observe!
And they came back with 10-15 observations. Most of them. Some barely did anything. ("Mr. Hill! Mr. Hill!! I forgot to write it down as I was going home, so I wrote it after I got home, OK?? Is that OK???)
They were given three choices on a handout. You can write from the perspective that yesterday was your last day going home from this high school. That you moved two hours away and never saw the ocean and the beach again. That this trip home was a piece of your personal history, and that now you are 19 and looking back at that trip home with nostalgia.
Or
You are writing to a future you. This future you was born in 2070, and rarely walks. Buses don't exist for the future you. Neither do cars. All the future you knows is the autopod, which holds only them and takes them where they want to go at ridiculous speeds, so observation of the trip is impossible. You are writing to this future you to describe what walking was like, or riding in a car, or bus.
Or
A letter to your imaginary silly old grandpa who has recently become blind--accident at work--and you haven't seen him in a while. You are writing to get him to understand your daily routine, to get to know you a little better, because he's getting sick, and might not be around too much longer.
---
More than half chose the letter to grandpa. And they got into it. The music helped. At first, the G-Master wanted to bop his head and tap his feet more than write, but he settled down after a bit. They all settled down. They were all in their own mental space. It was awesome. I went around the room and quietly checked in with students who seemed stuck. Offered some encouragement. Made sure they used their observations from yesterday.
73 minute class because of STAR testing. Went by in 5 minutes. A few students asked, "How long have we been writing?" at the end of the period. They were amazed that class was over. 40 minutes and some music. One of those rare days.
The day before, their homework was to observe. On their way home from school, as soon as the final bell rang, they were to take detailed notes on the process. No speaking. Just observing. The five senses. Imagine you are writing to a blind person. What do you see? To a deaf person, what do you hear? ("But Mr. Hill, if you're blind, you don't know what anything looks like. If you're deaf, you don't know what anything sounds like!") Right. Just recently blinded. A freak accident. Just lost their hearing. Just last year. Unfortunate. Use your senses. No talking. If you're speaking, you can't be observing in the true sense. Alright, go forth. Observe!
And they came back with 10-15 observations. Most of them. Some barely did anything. ("Mr. Hill! Mr. Hill!! I forgot to write it down as I was going home, so I wrote it after I got home, OK?? Is that OK???)
They were given three choices on a handout. You can write from the perspective that yesterday was your last day going home from this high school. That you moved two hours away and never saw the ocean and the beach again. That this trip home was a piece of your personal history, and that now you are 19 and looking back at that trip home with nostalgia.
Or
You are writing to a future you. This future you was born in 2070, and rarely walks. Buses don't exist for the future you. Neither do cars. All the future you knows is the autopod, which holds only them and takes them where they want to go at ridiculous speeds, so observation of the trip is impossible. You are writing to this future you to describe what walking was like, or riding in a car, or bus.
Or
A letter to your imaginary silly old grandpa who has recently become blind--accident at work--and you haven't seen him in a while. You are writing to get him to understand your daily routine, to get to know you a little better, because he's getting sick, and might not be around too much longer.
---
More than half chose the letter to grandpa. And they got into it. The music helped. At first, the G-Master wanted to bop his head and tap his feet more than write, but he settled down after a bit. They all settled down. They were all in their own mental space. It was awesome. I went around the room and quietly checked in with students who seemed stuck. Offered some encouragement. Made sure they used their observations from yesterday.
73 minute class because of STAR testing. Went by in 5 minutes. A few students asked, "How long have we been writing?" at the end of the period. They were amazed that class was over. 40 minutes and some music. One of those rare days.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Journal writing to instrumental music
The 9th graders started class today with a quote by Anais Nin, whose name rang a faint bell in my memory, but whose writing I'm sure I've never read. After class today, I discovered she was a French-born, American author, who was born in 1903 and died in 1977, and is most famous for her journals, which detail her life from age 11 to shortly before her death, as well as her erotica. Apparently, Nin, who married one man in the early 20s, married another man in 1955, and her journals chronicle this double life.
In any event, the quote I'd found was: "We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection." Apparently Nin really did 'taste life twice.' The students have been responding to quotes as well as questions I have posed over the entire semester, but until now, I hadn't incorporated music into the journal writing time. I thought this might help students who normally might try to carry on quiet conversations focus more on the writing if instrumental music was a part of the process. So this morning I decided that I would bring in Mice Parade's "All Roads Lead to Salzburg," which is an album of experimental electronica. The first track, which is about 9 minutes long (just about right for journal time) is hypnotic and seemed to me like it might lead the students to write wherever their thoughts might take them. I haven't read the journals yet, but I think I'll keep using music to help them get into their own writing.
The quote confused many of them. We defined "retrospection" as a class, which hopefully helped. The brief discussion afterward makes me think that many of them are at least becoming vaguely aware that writing and memory are deeply interconnected.
In any event, the quote I'd found was: "We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection." Apparently Nin really did 'taste life twice.' The students have been responding to quotes as well as questions I have posed over the entire semester, but until now, I hadn't incorporated music into the journal writing time. I thought this might help students who normally might try to carry on quiet conversations focus more on the writing if instrumental music was a part of the process. So this morning I decided that I would bring in Mice Parade's "All Roads Lead to Salzburg," which is an album of experimental electronica. The first track, which is about 9 minutes long (just about right for journal time) is hypnotic and seemed to me like it might lead the students to write wherever their thoughts might take them. I haven't read the journals yet, but I think I'll keep using music to help them get into their own writing.
The quote confused many of them. We defined "retrospection" as a class, which hopefully helped. The brief discussion afterward makes me think that many of them are at least becoming vaguely aware that writing and memory are deeply interconnected.
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