I've been re-assigned!

I received an email yesterday which sadly pronounced that my sci-fi/fantasy class next year was instead going to be a section of English 12.

If you read my previous blog about how excited I was to teach said class, you know that this was a devastating blow. A suckerpunch if you will.

(This picture represents my dream (the death star of classes) exploding after reading the email which ended my dream of teaching the Sci-fi/fantasy class)

Instead of 12th graders who are excited to be in a sci-fi/fantasy class, I'll be getting 12th graders who are just taking the class to take the class. This will basically be the same type of student I teach now- the "I have to be in this class" kind of student.

Was I discouraged? Yes

Am I one to dwell on discouragement? HELL NO!

I looked to my classroom wall and smiled at the mural of William Blake's "The Tyger" that I've recently commissioned from my students.

British literature includes some awesome poets that I'll draw heavily from.

I won't read Charles Dickens, I hate him. His books are terrible. Quick tell me which one of his novels I'm describing: It's about a tragic waif (poor orphan boy) who meets a bunch of rich people, there is drama, and in the end it turns out he's related to a bunch of the characters and he gets money/fortune.

So am I describing Oliver Twist? Great expectations? What?

Yep, all the same. Real original. I also can't stand Emily Dickinson because she's a whiny emo chick who played the pity card and stayed in her bedroom all the time. Her poetry sounds like crappy depressed 9th grader girl that nobody talks to because her personality is a real downer. But anyways...

The way I see it, I've been teaching 10th graders how to survive high school and set goals that help one become successful.

Now I have become the last guardian. I stand as protector of the outside world; my job: To make sure these kids hit the ground running.

Mr. Ormond lit a fire under me before I left high school. Can I lite a similar fire under these students? Can I lite a real fire in class and use it as an object lesson? Can we roast marshmallows? Starbursts? I digress.

I remember leaving Mr. Ormond's classroom with a head full of analytical tools and ideas that I'd never considered. Many of my current students can not think outside the box...or the bun. I think the idea of pushing the limits of where their minds can take them is scary.

When I ask, "what does this poem MEAN?" They shut down, tune out, and hide in the corner with their box of cereal and eat small portions.

I remember specifically that the lessons on the Renaissance were amazing. The dark ages were crippling mankind, until they learned how to think. Soon the printing press was educating the masses, rebellions arose, the man was challenged!

So they may call it British Lit, but in parenthesis they may as well call it, "Figure out what the blank I'm doing, it's time to grab life by the lips and yank with everything I've got- 101"