Classic WKRP Clip on the Atom

I watched this MANY years ago and learned more about the atom than I had in school. It is one of the small "Aha!" moments that taught me how teachers can make a difference by thinking outside the box.

How Schools Stifle Creativity: Ken Robinson

This is a great video talking about how education can stifle creativity and passion in favor of pushing students toward academia.

AASA hears what's about to disrupt schools

If Harvard Business School's Clayton Christensen is right, half of all instruction will take place online within the next 10 years--and schools had better get into the online-learning market or risk losing their students to other providers.

Read the whole story...

The 10 Best Teachers in Movie History - Filmcritic.com

A feature story by Don Willmott - Copyright © 2006 Filmcritic.com

One of the great things about adulthood is that we don't have to go to school anymore, and yet we keep returning by way of the movies. Why do we keep going back? To imagine what it would have been like to have good teachers rather than the sadists who tormented us in Algebra I and European History? To remember the moments when we really connected with a teacher and felt a wave of knowledge washing over us? Whatever the reason, we know as the lights dim that the best big-screen teachers will help their cinematic students learn plenty of small lessons and maybe some big life lessons too. How many of these memorable educators have you met?

10. Terry Corrigan (Class of 1984) Roddy McDowall, in his second-greatest screen performance (Cornelius the ape is still tops), plays a teacher so completely undone by the wild violence of his out-of-control high school that he ends up teaching class while waving a loaded pistol at his students. Better answer correctly! No doubt he is the favorite on-screen teacher of teachers.

9. Mr. Chips (Goodbye, Mr. Chips) Robert Donat won an Oscar as the much beloved British headmaster who looks back over his long life of teaching with as much fondness for his students as they have for him. Though British boarding schools aren't known for being warm and fuzzy -- Prince Charles never quite recovered from his experience -- Mr. Chips makes them seem like paradise.

8. Miss Shields (A Christmas Story) She has to put up with the antics of Ralphie, Flick, Schwartz, and the rest, but she does so with great kindness, never being too harsh with her students as she confiscates their incredible collections of banned toys and assorted gags. And she's more than willing to rescue Flick when his tongue gets stuck to the frozen flag pole. Nice lady.

7. Dave Jennings (Animal House) Don't you wish all your English professors had been so hilariously zonked out? Donald Sutherland is a trip and a half. And take it from someone who knows: When he says that Milton is really really boring, he's right!

6. Glenn Holland (Mr. Holland's Opus) Richard Dreyfuss takes Mr. Holland through 30 years of band practice. Along the way, we get countless lessons in perseverance and self-esteem. There's a lot of treacle here, but he still makes you want to pick up a tuba and give it a toot.

5. Mr. Hand (Fast Times at Ridgemont High) At first the cranky old SOB seems like the Social Studies teacher from hell ("Why do you shamelessly waste my time like this?"), but when he goes the extra mile at the last minute to help hopeless stoner Spicoli pass his class, even showing up in Spicoli's bedroom for a house call, you realize that he's one righteous dude. Aloha!

4. Mark Thackeray (To Sir, With Love) They call him Mr. Tibbs! Oh, wait. Wrong movie. In this one, Sidney Poitier takes on a rowdy class of rough-and-tumble London Cockney kids and teaches them self-respect above all else. By the end, they love him so much they're even writing songs to him. Hit it, Lulu!

3. John Keating (Dead Poets Society) Even if Robin Williams normally makes you break out in a rash, you won't mind watching as he awakens the spirits of his uptight prep-school students. Art! Beauty! Shakespeare! O Captain, My Captain! The kids are thrilled (Ethan Hawke's cheeks go positively rosy), but it's all a bit much for the prune-faced administrators, so naturally he gets fired. He probably ended up at UC Santa Cruz.

2. Jaime Escalante (Stand and Deliver) Can you believe you're actually watching a movie about math? Edward James Olmos portrays the real-life L.A. teacher who takes dead-end gang bangers and turns them into calculus geniuses. Hard to believe, but it's true!

1. Georges Lopez (To Be and To Have) It's a small miracle, but this documentary about elementary education in rural France will leave you emotionally devastated. An achingly beautiful film, it tracks a year of learning in a one-room schoolhouse lovingly tended by the soft-spoken and almost saint-like Lopez, whose patience and gentleness with his gaggle of young farmers' kids is truly something to see. If you're not weeping copious tears at the end of this one, you haven't been paying attention. Go straight to detention!

Movie Review: Teachers (1984)

Believe it or not we are approaching the 25th anniversary of the movie "Teachers." Since the last time I saw the movie I was still a student in high school, I thought it would be appropriate to take another look at it from the perspective of a teacher. My reaction? Wow, this is certainly a different movie than I remember. I think it’s like being forced to read a book when you’re in high school and then re-reading it when you are an adult. So many nuances that escaped you before – so many more layers.

First, this movie epitomizes everything that is good and bad about the teaching profession. The drama, the comedy, the passion, the pain, the hope and the hopelessness. Yes, there some stereotypical scenes and gratuitous “teachers lounge” shots, but overall the movie touched a lot of nerves – both good and bad. Some of the things that touched me based on my experience (both in school, as a colleague, and as a teacher) included:

• The burned out teacher (“Ditto”) that skates through the day by having the students complete ditto’s (of course we just call the copies or packets now). So routine is his day that the students don’t even realize the man is dead at his desk.


• The teacher who lies about being a teacher (saying he’s a pilot) to impress a woman – and then seeing her reaction when she realizes he’s “just a teacher.”


• The preachy “Union guy” that’s always in your face about doing the right thing and supporting the Union and standing up to the administration – only to disappear into the woodwork when you’re getting screwed over.


• The “hard case” kid that has so much potential but has a wall built so high that you can’t get through to him. But those little sparks of light as if you almost connected keep your fire going – so you keep banging your head against that wall.


• The teacher who can’t control his classroom and keeps begging the class to “please calm down” and “please pay attention.”


• The Superintendent who sees students, teachers, and school administrators as nothing but political buffers and stepping stones [:cough:Tennessee:cough:].


• The teacher watching a father smack his son across the face and the helplessness that goes with that. The anger and disgust and wanting to beat the hell out of a parent… man, I’m getting angry again just thinking about it.


• The gall of people (in this movie it was an attorney) who feel like they are informing teachers that the system is broken. The teachers, meanwhile, struggling to keep moving forward with more restrictions, less resources, little administrative support, and mediocre pay.


• The discomfort of talking to a young girl who is pregnant and seeking advice and help – who asks the teacher to take her for an abortion.


• The only passionate, innovative, proud, exciting teacher in the movie was an outpatient from a mental hospital that got into substitute teaching by mistake. Watching him throw the text book out the window and putting on his Abraham Lincoln outfit was inspiring – even before I became a teacher.


• The sick feeling of being called to the Principal’s office to take the heat for something a student did – as part of a project I assigned.


• The pain of losing a student to a sudden, violent death and the understanding that you have to bury your pain so you can be the rock that students can stand on so they can get through it.


• The passion and support and loyalty of students when they see a teacher that cares about them being let go. Students just have this almost innate feeling for social justice that I admire.

Some of the little details in the movie that I liked included the interactions between the teachers and the students which seemed genuine. I also liked how the teachers’ apartment seemed to fit – not just the size and inexpensive furniture, but the big decoration over the dining room table was a large, colorful world map. I also liked the dichotomy between hating your job while loving what you do.

A couple of my favorite quotes from the movie included:

“Don’t you know who I am? I am a teacher and you will treat me as such.” -- Mr. Gower

“The damn school wasn’t built for us, Roger. It wasn’t built for your unions, your lawyers, all your other institutions. It was built for the kids. They’re not here for us. We’re here for them. That’s what it’s about. Kids.” -- Mr. Jurel

For me, this movie was a reminder of where I have come from. I saw a little bit of myself in many of the teachers. I really related to Jurel who was so passionate and altruistic when he started and slowly became cynical of the system – only to have that fire rekindled later when he was reminded of how much power teachers really have. I saw some of my weaknesses in the teachers as well, but I will chalk it up as free career guidance.

I guess the depressing thing about this movie was that teachers were underpaid, underappreciated, tired, and disrespected… and the students were apathetic, bored, and didn’t understand how their education was relevant in the real world. Why is that depressing? Because the movie was made 25 years ago and those things are still all true. Add to that the fact that we now have less funding, no supplies, more requirements, and much more accountability. Wrong direction much?

If I had rated this movie 25 years ago, I would probably have given it 2 stars. Rating it today [as a teacher] I would have to give it 4 stars. A non-teacher who doesn’t get the subtleties of working in education would probably not enjoy this movie as much as I did.

Welcome!

Welcome to my new blog! This is the requisite, awkward, "first post" that plagues all blogs. What should I say? What should I *not* say?

Why am I here?

Although I consider myself good at many things (painting, sculpting, writing, graphic design, web page design, etc.), I believe the only thing I have truly been "great" at is teaching. I feel at home in the classroom. I feel like I am fulfilling my purpose when I work with kids -- like the things I went through in my childhood happened for a reason. I believe I should be teaching and I regret ever walking out of the classroom.

But after a [not so] brief hiatus, I am ready to reenter a position where I can truly make a difference. I hope to make a difference not just in the kids, but in my fellow teachers and in the school where I work. I hope I can achieve that in my new position at Terrace Middle School in Lakeport, California. I am proud to be a part of TMS and I hope to make my principal proud for hiring me.

Thanks!

Robert Griffith

A Labor of Love

Labor of Love

A couple of weeks ago a persistent sore throat sent me reluctantly to the doctor's office. As I sat impatiently in the reception area, awating the call of my name, I discerned that the room was full of chatting, soon-to-be mothers in various stages of pregnancy. Scanning a three-month-old copy of Better Homes and Gardens, I tried unsuccessfully to turn a deaf ear to their incessant litany of symptoms. As their voices droned on, however, I was suddenly struck by a revelation: Although I have never been pregnant, I too, have experienced the identical aches, joys, and anxieties: I am a teacher. To teach is to vicariously experience the pangs of pregnancy -- a nine month odyssey of child development.

As I entered school that sleepy September morning, the start reality that I have begun the first month of my first trimester registers in my already queasy stomach. My body and mind grow fatigued, thinking of the physical and emotional demands that await me in the ensuing nine months ahead. However, in the span of a minute, I find my mood swinging from uneasy fear to eagerness and anticipation, confident that my students will revel in the heroic antics of Beowulf, and feel the anguish of Marc Antony. Now buoyent in the belief that I will be the great Mother of Knowledge, my students silently enter the classroom. As I gaze into each pair of eyes, eager to discern the first flickers of life, the unwelcome urgency again emerges -- just forty-seven minutes more and I shall be able to dash to the bathroom once again. Thus September passes.

Although October and November carry with them many symptoms reminiscent of September, I find myself experiencing new and confusing ones as well. The fatigue and nausea still plague my days, but accompanying them now are irrational and unexplained cravings. I am suddenly filled with the desire to change my kitchen shelf paper or clean those long forgotten closets, chores that would have never entered my mind during those carefree, pre-contract months. However, now that I am held captive in my new surroundings, the cravings intensify. The days are marked by occasional headaches; my body is still adjusting to the enormity of the task that lies ahead. Thinking I now detect movement and life within my students, my hopes are dashed: Movement will not occur until the fourth month -- closer to report card day. As November emerges, my mood swings occur with less frequency, and I now experience a welcome sense of calmness; Thanksgiving vacation is near.

With fatigue still its vanguard, the second trimester of child development begins. The annoying mild swelling in my ankles and feet, though unwelcome, is now expected, as is the nagging backache; all painful reminders of the seven hours spent daily on my feet explaining the difference between metaphors and similes. Nasal congestion now begins to plague me; after all, December is the breeding ground of virus-infected children, as yet unschooled in the art of covering one's mouth during a sneezing attack. Although my mood swings have temporarily stabilized, I discover that irritability is now second nature to me; consistently late assignments and bickering children are beginning to erode my normally pleasing personality. (Although the bickering does at least indicate movement and life!)

January and February, too, are unkind in their contributions to my delicate condition. My clothes, now too snug from the months of faculty lounge doughnuts and potato chips, are relegated to the back of closet as new and unfashionable "fat" clothes replace them. Unpredictable anxiety attacks intermittently appear and disappear with staggering speed -- fears that my weight gain will be permanent or my students are not progressing as they should. However, as February draws to a close, my anxiety is replaced with a new, and often, frightening boredom with my condition. The novelty and excitement of my odyssey has waned, and I resign myself to my fate.

Since March has arrived like a lamb, I steel myself for my final trimester, aware that the inevitable lion awaits me. My students are now extremely active, allowing me no peace during the day. The difficulty I experience sleeping nights is evident as I force my swelling, cramping legs to drag me around the room for individual student conferences; after all, the welfare of my students is my main concern. As my temples pound, my feelings of boredome beging to dissipate, replaced by an uneasy apprehension. In less than three months my students will be released into the world, and it is my responsibility to prepare them! Calming myself with the knowledge that the end is near, I painfully continue my rounds. The hemorrhoids are not improving; the continuous strain of the weight of my students assaults my body. Two more months and this torture will end.

April and May differ little from the aches and pains of March, yet now it is my emotional state that dominates my thinking. Still anxious and impatient, I daydream and fantasize about the fate of my students, visualizing that Joel will win his scholarship and Susie will be accepted by her dream college in the East. Lost in the revelry of my fantasies, I am seized by a crippling pain; final exams are complete and the task of grading them awaits -- my labor has begun. With measured breaths and an eye on the clock, I struggle to deliver final grades to the office. Urged on by the support of fellow teachers who assure me that I am doing fine, it is time to push; grades are due in less than fifteen minutes! Exhausted, I summon my last ounce of strength and record the final score. With a giddy sense of relief and tenderness, I cradle the grade sheets in my arms. It is over. I have succeeded. I have given birth to a new class of graduates.

As the relatives gather, the flashes of Polaroid cameras record the miracle. All memories of pain and anxiety fade as I feel the touch of my students shaking my hands or hugging me in tearful good-byes, with diplomas clutched tightly to their breasts. These are my children, they are products of nine months of my love and nurturing. While I watch my fledglings reach out to the world, thoughts of new children enter my mind. Forgetting the trials and tribulations I will experience, I turn my eye to the future, and prepare for the conception of the next class. I do hope to have an easier time next year.

Nancy Samp
El Dorado, Kansas