“The History of Dreams Has Yet to be Written”: Ur-Pedagogy and the Dialectics of Postponed Meetings

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Seeing as to how our last couple of reading group meetings continue to get bumped, postponed, and canceled, I’ve decided we’re making the jump online for the discussion of The Dialectics Seeing by Susan Buck-Morss. I’m encouraging all of our members to type up and respond to each other at least a couple of times, and I’m hoping this may be a more lasting way to capture a few fleeting thoughts from anyone else with a passing interest in the reading group’s approach.

I figure I’d offer a few comments and questions and hope others jump in over the next week or so.

That being said, one of the drawbacks of assembling this reading list is not knowing exactly how well each book will fit with one another. And while I’d often imagine the likes of Graeber or Pinker getting into arguments with other authors throughout the process, I wasn’t sure how ol’ Benjamin would play out … and I’m still not sure. Personally, I really like the method that Benjamin took in plotting out the Arcades Project. The notion of gluing together cobbled thoughts and observations into a new realm of reflection really highlights one of the aims I had with regards to this reading group in general. Similarly, I’ve been rather fascinated by “lowbrow culture” and Benjamin’s mining for overarching relevance in the tawdry shops of Paris and in the underbelly’s working class feels rather appropriate. Benjamin would totally love talking about viral youtube videos, Batman, and FNMTV.

There are a ton of places in the text I’d want to tease out as a group, but thought for starters to just offer two questions:

1. Chapter 8 focuses around children and their “capacity for revolutionary transformation” (265). [Question mark placed here after something wise and scholarly is said and everyone nods in total understanding.]?
2. I am interested in the lessons that the city is teaching its inhabitants. Specifically, we see in both the text and the photographs that “Function became visible” (295). Yes, I realize this is a big part of that whole modernism thing that people that wear funny hats like to talk about. This pedagogy of process and use still feels embedded within our current [(post{post})post] post modern society (I get lost and forget which society we’re in every now and then … sorry). How are our current surroundings reflections of where societal pedagogy is progressing?

Lastly, by its very nature, the work described in Buck-Morss’ text is of a very specific time and place (although there is that pesky ur- prefix). I’ve been playing around with the notion of constructing something like a “Manual Arts Project” or an “LAUSD Project” utilizing the architecture of our schools, the social topography of our communities, the sounds of phones and helicopters and bells and laughter. I feel words like montage and pastiche are presently burdened with pejorative connotations – that such a patchwork project wouldn’t gather any kind of academic wings to take flight. But who cares! I digress (ah the digital gluttony of a blog!), I bring this up to ask what would something like the Arcade Project look like if it were to be made manifest here and now? What are our mythic archetypes? Our wish images of today? Do we still saunter beyond the pace of you’re average gangster leanin’, baggy pants wearin’ flâneur?

[Note: image from above is of “Destiny City,” an ecotopia being carried by a few of its creators.]

Differentiated Rope Skipping (aka Jump Rope Instructions? Really?)

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I was putting away all those “teacher” books from the post below the other day and flipped through one for giggles. I hope this doesn’t come across as overly snarky (though it is a blog…), but do teachers really need instructions on “teaching” jump rope? Am I from, like, Saturn for thinking this is kind of a no brainer?

“Alright class, I hope you did your homework last night and practiced breathing air. Today we’ll be learning how to properly place juicebox straws in juiceboxes and then – tomorrow – we’ll actually learn how to sip from straws. But first … it’s time to learn the fundamentals of moving your body over a continuously moving rope in a rhythmic manner. We’ll go through this process slowly.”

Or something like that.

“Hmm… this class IS advanced. Maybe we can skip straight to Double Dutch for today’s lesson.”

In unrelated news, since we’re done with finals, I plan on instigating a massive version of Werewolf in my class tomorrow. This could be ridiculously fun or ridiculously ridiculous. Only time (and a few sacrificial villagers) will tell.

[Regular, less inane posting will possibly* resume after submitting grades.]

*something akin to a vacation looms in the near future.

If (And Only If) The Book Fits

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Look:

See, I like books. I even don’t have space for all of them:


Here you can see a handful of smaller books (the efficiently sized Salinger’s and Gatsby, etc.) resting on top of other books, which are actually in front of another row of books. That’s three books in the space designed for one! And I wonder why I can never find anything.

Anyway, I prelude the main point of this blog with these two pictures so that you, kind reader, know I’m not one that shies away from amassing a lot of books. I’m a junkie.

However, this – to me – seems like a problem:

(Donald Trump included to provide sense of scale.)

See, I didn’t actually buy any of these books. And these aren’t all of them. These are (quote unquote) “teacher” books. What’s that? How can you tell that these are “teacher” books? Well, it’s the size, silly. For some reason, “teacher” books are large, floppy, overpriced, and (generally) pretty crappy. The pile pictured is specifically the books I amassed from participating in the LAUSD BTSA induction program.

But listen, those aren’t the books I like. They aren’t the books I gain any kind of insight or meaning from. In fact, interestingly enough, the books that most practically affect what happens in my classroom and how I understand my practice are different. Maybe you can spot the key difference:

And just so you don’t think I picked two outliers, here are a few more (with the originals still there for context):

What is it about “teacher” books? At this point (and yes, I am still considered a new teacher), whenever I’m handed a “teacher” book (aka a big floppy one), I automatically recoil. I don’t anticipate learning anything from these books and they kind of set me up for feeling like another unnecessary protocol, worksheet, or poorly designed lesson plan is waiting between the covers.

Of course, there are some “teacher” books that try to appear legitimate. Here’s a book I’d consider to be a “teacher” book that I’m not that crazy about (next to another “teacher” book for comparison):

At the same time, there are a (very) few books that look like “teacher” books that are secretly awesome. Here’s two of them that I’ve relied on:

Ultimately, I’m pondering making a connection to our school’s implementation of the Accelerated Reader program as well as discussing that whole “blue-collar” versus “white-collar” thing I mentioned a few posts back. We can talk about all of this sooner or later. I also think this book issue goes back to the disconnect between (primary and secondary) schools and universities. There are two very different publishing industries fuelled by each of these groups both working within very different business models. This, too, leads me down the road to think about how these two different stacks of books reveal a divide between theoretical texts and those that offer direct services, recommendations, and protocols to be used in the classroom. It reminds me of a recent comment a teacher made in a meeting: “Most teachers don’t want [Professional Development] that is about theory. They want something they can use in their classroom immediately.” I don’t agree with this approach (if you couldn’t tell from the pictures), but it leads toward a (much needed) discussion about theory’s role in the classroom teacher’s development. I’ll work up a treatise on this shortly.

In the meantime, what do you think about the differences in “teacher” book sizes?

No Blog Left Behind

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Apparently the ol’ American Crawl has been noted as a blog written by a new teacher in the info box of this article. Don’t know how that happened, but hey, there you go. I’m probably the most famous person I know and realized I don’t gloat often enough on this blog.

Secondly (though, strangely, there was no “first of all” … ), since when were “teachers or former teachers with fewer than 10 years of experience leading a classroom” considered “new”? Frankly, I’m often the youngest person in the room at faculty meetings, School Site Council, and other gatherings. However, based on seniority at my school, I’m nearly a veteran. The teachers that have had the biggest influences on me, mentoring and guiding my practice have all been in the classroom for less than 10 years as well.

Really though, I mean no disrespect here (and even the “most famous person I know” comment was in sarcastic jest). I don’t mean to belittle the one publication that bothered to link to me (though really, I’m #4? C’mon, I could take #2 or #3, right??). I just wonder what we mean when we say “new” and “veteran.” Am I still developing my practice? Of course. But, I’d only imagine all sincere educators would feel the same – where they have four or forty years of teaching experience.

An Open Letter of Invitation

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Last night I sent out an email to a handful of random folk clogging my address book. In case you feel left out, I’ll post the (now open) letter here for any schmuck that doesn’t have plans for Saturday.

“We finally really did it!! You maniacs!”: An Invitation, A Warning!

Dear friends, colleagues, and other people of ill-reputable nature,

I don’t have much time to write this, but need to make sure the general public is informed.

Since July, my class of seniors at Manual Arts High School has been recruited to help investigate a mysterious black cloud hovering over Los Angeles. Using cutting edge technology, and with the assistance of representatives from UC Berkeley, Xylon Corporation, and First Breath Organization, my students have come ever closer to discovering the true nature of this black cloud of pollution: our pollution has developed its own consciousness and has been establishing contact with my students!

I don’t know if the cloud is aware that I’m sending this or even if such efforts will be thwarted. I need to warn all of you and also invite you to an unveiling of the students’ investigations. This Saturday, from 8-10 p.m., my students will be discussing their research and ecotopian visions of the future at Machine Project, 1200 D. North Alvarado, Los Angeles (next to Downbeat Café). There will be students, music, dancing, black cloud ice cream, lectures, tamales, interviews, and black cloud horchata.

The Black Cloud has started to infect my mind. I don’t know how much time is left until I fall into full, cloudy madness. Please come out on Saturday and join me in celebrating the Cloud (aka Cloudy McPufferson). Perhaps it can be persuaded to move elsewhere in the world. We created this beast, perhaps we can make it go away.

Sunny day,
Sweeping the Clouds Away,
On my way to where the air is sweet,
Can you tell me how to get,
How to get to North Alvarado and Sunset Blvd?
Antero Garcia

P.S. if you need more information about the black cloud, one of the gentlemen working with my class has posted a revealing expose.

The Revolution Does Take Out

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This is Sarita’s. If you can’t tell from the blurry picture, it’s a Mexican eatery down the street from where I grew up in Spring Valley. There are dozens of hole-in-the-wall places to grab a burrito, carne asada fries, or whatever else suits your fancy in the neighborhood. I happen to be partial to Sarita’s. My friends and I would often go two doors down to La Posta during our high school years. There was also Salazar’s, Santana’s, and several others whose names I can’t remember.

Sarita’s is the kind of comfort food I crave on a regular basis. It’s a required destination when I visit family in San Diego. However, this is about more than repping any kind of nostalgia. This is about the possibilities a place like Sarita’s can represent.

Each trip to Sarita’s is a parley of the masses. Every kind of denizen of the Spring Valley suburb will be seen at the eatery. The high school enfants terribles, the blue collar and white collar workers (I plan to talk about these labels sooner or later and similar coding of students at my school), the day laborers, the families, the well-to-do in their oversized houses on Mount Helix, the working class families that don’t actually buy drinks at Sarita’s but save a handful of change by going to the liquor store across the street, the black community, the white community, the Latino community (though, unlike Los Angeles, Latino and Mexican are almost synonymous in Spring Valley – chalk it up to being ten minutes from the border), the Armenian community, and whoever else I’m forgetting in this cross-section of the neighborhood.

This is common ground for all classes and races. It is a miasma of ages and colors  clamoring for greasy meats and cheeses in differently fried and served permutations. Sure, not everyone’s walking out with the Shamu-sized Styrofoam container of horchata, but we’re all in this together, man.

During the two year period that I manned a popular LA newsstand Friday and Saturday nights, I was amazed at the fact that all walks of life came to the location. It was class-less unhallowed ground. I thought it was unique in this distinction. Like the newsstand, Sarita’s just might be a building place towards considering, plotting out our Temporary Autonomous Zone.

I apologize for mapping my pedagogy of liberation … I was just waiting for my carne asada tacos. To go.

I’ll be showing this to my students tomorrow

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An older commercial that was just replayed during an Olympic break. In light of my recent thoughts on lowbrow literacy, class discussions about cultural reproduction, and student feelings about marketing, I think there are a lot of possibilities to take this commercial towards a place of possibilities.

Thanks Coca Cola!

Who else is thirsty?

BTSA Busted

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After a frustratingly long standoff with the BTSA Induction program, I have finally gotten my clear credential. This would have happened long ago had I not been as stubborn as most of my friends are (ahem Benjie and Nemesis).

Actually, I’ve wanted to write about the difficulties with BTSA for some time – either here or at the Homeroom – but have been reluctant. It’s hard to properly describe some of the silly hoops LAUSD makes us jump through (and I’m not referring to the state mandated need for BTSA … that I understand). I don’t feel like I’d get the frustration of most teachers across without sounding like a whiny, privileged teacher by readers that don’t know any better. I continue to mull this over.

Oh, I used the new Randy Newman and Sparks albums to cover my employee and social security numbers. Those CDs along with the Conor Oberst and a sneak peak of the new Walkmen records have made the last two weeks a rather healthy diversion from PLC debating.