Wednesday, October 08, 2003
I know Weinstein's parents were upset...but it sounded so fake."
Last Monday was Yom Kippur, the most sacred of Jewish holidays. Traditionally, this is the day when the fate of every person in the world is officially sealed in the Book of Life for the coming year. It is a day traditionally spent through fasting, meditation, prayer, and the occasional discarding of a chicken in a river. (Literally casting off sins by assigning them to a fowl.) Back in that ideal world I referred to in my last post, I would have been spending this past Monday in a synagogue meditating on the failings of the past year and my aspirations for the future one...unfortunately, as you might have guessed, things did not go precisely as planned. I should not have been surprised. They rarely do.
My Yom Kippur started off bright and early with a trip to the post office to mail off my rent for the month. The post office where I get packages and such is basically on the same block, but I discovered that to mail anything with higher priority than just a stamp, I needed to hike down a few more blocks to a postal supply center. But within twenty minutes, I was waiting for the bus to Center City. I listened as the people around me chatted about their personal concerns and tried not to focus on the fact that I had not eaten or drank anything.
Got on the bus, got off the bus, did some banking downtown, then on to the subway for a trip to UPenn, where I'm taking graduate courses. I obtained course packets, submitted my tuition payments, and tried to figure out if I could get a parking pass since I have to drive down there twice a week. (Long answer: maybe, but... Short answer: not really...no.) Then back up to Broad Street to pick up my broken car and then, exhausted, back to my apartment to grade for the rest of the afternoon.
It was a productive day, sacrilegiously so, but I want to consider something that continues to puzzle me about this rare opportunity provided by the school district to pursue my personal and professional salvation all in one fell swoop. I refer of course to the practice of granting Yom Kippur off. Now as a Jew, even a relatively unobservant one like myself, having the day off is a blessing of sorts, and in most of the Northeast, public schools grant this holiday without so much as a second thought.
As I stared bleerily over my student's poster projects and lab reports however, I realized that very few of them were using the day for its original intent, self-reflection and repentance. Most of them were likely at home watching television, playing video games, hanging out with friends, or some combination of the three. This is admittedly a rather idealized vision of how my students behave outside the classroom, but the point remains, to my students Yom Kippur is just a weird sounding holiday with very little significance. One or two of my students asked me what it was last Friday, and I explained it cursorily as a Jewish holiday.
In retrospect, that would have been an ideal "teachable moment", whereby I could open up to my students about my heritage and form a meaningful bond with them all the while providing greater social context. Instead, my hurried response revealed two things: my discomfort in opening up to my students and my distaste for sidetracking in my classes. The former is arguably the more significant, but the truth is at this juncture, I find it difficult to trust students who prefer to hit people with rulers than measure objects with them. Or students who, for now real reason will throw an opened condom into a girl's hair... Sorry folks...not the best way to win a teacher's confidence.
This is not to say that I avoid the issue all together. Every week I do a structured activity about what new or good things happened over the weekend. Of course, the students generally refuse to pay close attention to the rules I set in place regarding commenting during other people's stories, but I feel even small steps like this weekly ritual can be equally effective as larger ones over a long enough period. Perhaps the deeper question is did I avoid mentioning my connection to Yom Kippur because of a lack of trust or concern over the impact of the admission of my heritage among my students. Jews and African-Americans (the majority of my classes) have historically had a complex, not always amicable, relationship. The effect of my revelation was unpredictable. At the same time, I wonder if I was a coward.
On the subject of diversions from my lesson plans, I will simply state that one of my goals for the coming year is to transcend the linear and become a more free-flowing, fast-thinking, and organic teacher in the sense of being capable of responding instantly and effectively to changes in student temperament and understanding. Until then, I remain bound by the scaffold of the lesson plan.
It is ironic that I end this post with an exaltation on the importance of structure in my current teaching strategy...one that in point of fact diverts entirely from the rest of the post! Ah, the irony...
Perhaps I should rest now and reflect on my sins, both literary and personal.
Last Monday was Yom Kippur, the most sacred of Jewish holidays. Traditionally, this is the day when the fate of every person in the world is officially sealed in the Book of Life for the coming year. It is a day traditionally spent through fasting, meditation, prayer, and the occasional discarding of a chicken in a river. (Literally casting off sins by assigning them to a fowl.) Back in that ideal world I referred to in my last post, I would have been spending this past Monday in a synagogue meditating on the failings of the past year and my aspirations for the future one...unfortunately, as you might have guessed, things did not go precisely as planned. I should not have been surprised. They rarely do.
My Yom Kippur started off bright and early with a trip to the post office to mail off my rent for the month. The post office where I get packages and such is basically on the same block, but I discovered that to mail anything with higher priority than just a stamp, I needed to hike down a few more blocks to a postal supply center. But within twenty minutes, I was waiting for the bus to Center City. I listened as the people around me chatted about their personal concerns and tried not to focus on the fact that I had not eaten or drank anything.
Got on the bus, got off the bus, did some banking downtown, then on to the subway for a trip to UPenn, where I'm taking graduate courses. I obtained course packets, submitted my tuition payments, and tried to figure out if I could get a parking pass since I have to drive down there twice a week. (Long answer: maybe, but... Short answer: not really...no.) Then back up to Broad Street to pick up my broken car and then, exhausted, back to my apartment to grade for the rest of the afternoon.
It was a productive day, sacrilegiously so, but I want to consider something that continues to puzzle me about this rare opportunity provided by the school district to pursue my personal and professional salvation all in one fell swoop. I refer of course to the practice of granting Yom Kippur off. Now as a Jew, even a relatively unobservant one like myself, having the day off is a blessing of sorts, and in most of the Northeast, public schools grant this holiday without so much as a second thought.
As I stared bleerily over my student's poster projects and lab reports however, I realized that very few of them were using the day for its original intent, self-reflection and repentance. Most of them were likely at home watching television, playing video games, hanging out with friends, or some combination of the three. This is admittedly a rather idealized vision of how my students behave outside the classroom, but the point remains, to my students Yom Kippur is just a weird sounding holiday with very little significance. One or two of my students asked me what it was last Friday, and I explained it cursorily as a Jewish holiday.
In retrospect, that would have been an ideal "teachable moment", whereby I could open up to my students about my heritage and form a meaningful bond with them all the while providing greater social context. Instead, my hurried response revealed two things: my discomfort in opening up to my students and my distaste for sidetracking in my classes. The former is arguably the more significant, but the truth is at this juncture, I find it difficult to trust students who prefer to hit people with rulers than measure objects with them. Or students who, for now real reason will throw an opened condom into a girl's hair... Sorry folks...not the best way to win a teacher's confidence.
This is not to say that I avoid the issue all together. Every week I do a structured activity about what new or good things happened over the weekend. Of course, the students generally refuse to pay close attention to the rules I set in place regarding commenting during other people's stories, but I feel even small steps like this weekly ritual can be equally effective as larger ones over a long enough period. Perhaps the deeper question is did I avoid mentioning my connection to Yom Kippur because of a lack of trust or concern over the impact of the admission of my heritage among my students. Jews and African-Americans (the majority of my classes) have historically had a complex, not always amicable, relationship. The effect of my revelation was unpredictable. At the same time, I wonder if I was a coward.
On the subject of diversions from my lesson plans, I will simply state that one of my goals for the coming year is to transcend the linear and become a more free-flowing, fast-thinking, and organic teacher in the sense of being capable of responding instantly and effectively to changes in student temperament and understanding. Until then, I remain bound by the scaffold of the lesson plan.
It is ironic that I end this post with an exaltation on the importance of structure in my current teaching strategy...one that in point of fact diverts entirely from the rest of the post! Ah, the irony...
Perhaps I should rest now and reflect on my sins, both literary and personal.
