I'm alone in my car. The engine's off, but the keys are in the ignition. I'm in a huge parking lot, and I'm transfixed to the spot. I should be leaving now, but I haven't pulled the keys. I need them so I can listen to the radio. I should be walking into the grocery store, but instead I sit. Jim Derogotis and Greg Kot are adding a song to their Desert Island Jukebox. Instead I sit. Ira Glass features a story about someone's American Life--a guy who wants to achieve transcendence by fasting, and the whole time he's wondering if he's doing it right because he's had no epiphany yet. Instead I sit. I listen to a doctor tell a riveting story about trying to save Mother Teresa and the pressure from an entire country to perform this miracle.
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| image courtesy of NPR |
Where the good ideas happen
Jane's Addiction had a song, "Standin' in the Shower Thinkin'." I would say 30% of my lesson plans happen there. Maybe 50% happen at school. But that extra 20%--and maybe I'm overestimating--happen while I'm in my car. If I'm not listening to sports radio, I'm listening to NPR. What happened to music? That's a post for another day. Having taught English for 14 years now, I'm ready for anything to lend itself to a lesson plan. I once caught a Mike Birbiglia story on This American Life where he told this story about a car accident. I parked at Dominick's (sky point for Dominick's, Chicago), and I just sat there. I'm caught up in the story, and then I think, "I gotta use this for teaching narrative." And that's what I do with NPR. All the time.
And not just in the classroom
I recently finished my 4th year of coaching cross country, and during my first year, we were riding to a meet on a Saturday morning. The guys were in that 7:30am Saturday morning moderate coma: half asleep, half thinking about the race, half wondering why they came out for a sport with competition that regularly happens before 10am. In cross country, I have the benefit of coaching a group of guys with a high cumulative GPA. I think they might enjoy logic puzzles over sleep sometimes. So I reflected on a Car Talk Puzzler (or "Puzzla" if you use the Boston accent of the show's hosts) from NPR. I know less about cars than I do about math--a tight competition, to be sure--but the show always intrigued me. So I lay it out there: "You have a 9oz. glass and a 4oz. glass, you have unlimited water, and you need exactly 6oz. of water. You cannot estimate. How do you get exactly 6oz.?" Well, when I heard this on NPR during a Saturday morning errand run, I literally drove through a stoplight picturing this puzzler. Once I put this out there for the team, the bus adopted the focus of an ACT classroom, with me as the proctor. "Wait, Newman, do we have to use those glasses?" "Wait, can I keep emptying my glasses?" and so it goes. Thanks, NPR.
A little credit here?
I'm pretty sure my NPR listening paid off for bringing This I Believe to my school. It wasn't in the curriculum 4 years ago. It is now. To teach narrative, I used the NPR long-running series. I had students submit their essays to the website. I collected their stories, including ones written by Hackney and I along with his students, and made a book of our stories. We underestimated the cost of said book and begged the principal to cover about $300 for that book (Thanks, Dr. Gibson). The first time I heard one of those stories, I knew I could hook my students. Now, all sophomore students are composing these narratives as part of their curriculum.
And all the other stuff
The Moth Hour. On the Media. Morning Edition. Weekend Edition. More recently, I used my favorite show, Sound Opinions, as my class worked on evaluations. I sent a tweet out to hosts Greg Kot and Jim Derogotis about how I was using their show in class, and they acknowledged my comment by favoriting/retweeting. I talked to my class about how we might evaluate something we are not interested in. I heard the show on another Saturday morning grocery store shopping trip. Kot shared his experience covering Yanni for a week during a December 2013 show where they let the audience ask questions. He gave criteria for an evaluation that played perfectly to my class: give context, give evidence, give insight; educate, illuminate, and entertain. What great advice. More importantly, what great advice I heard while driving 6 miles to Meijer to buy bananas.
My Dad had the right idea
My dad wasn't listening to NPR when we were kids because he was a teacher. He wasn't listening because he wanted us to listen. He tuned in to 91.5WBEZ because he wanted to punish us. No. Wait. That was the WGN720AM "Farm Report." That was how he punished us when we would hop in the car for a vacation. But he loved learning, and still does. I can't help but learn something every time I tune in to NPR. My dad's selfishness in listening so he could learn something gave way to my altruism, in that I listen so I can use the shows to help my teaching. My students. Or maybe, selfishly, I listen because I like it in the same way he did. I learn something every time.
And not just in the classroom
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| image courtesy of NPR |
I recently finished my 4th year of coaching cross country, and during my first year, we were riding to a meet on a Saturday morning. The guys were in that 7:30am Saturday morning moderate coma: half asleep, half thinking about the race, half wondering why they came out for a sport with competition that regularly happens before 10am. In cross country, I have the benefit of coaching a group of guys with a high cumulative GPA. I think they might enjoy logic puzzles over sleep sometimes. So I reflected on a Car Talk Puzzler (or "Puzzla" if you use the Boston accent of the show's hosts) from NPR. I know less about cars than I do about math--a tight competition, to be sure--but the show always intrigued me. So I lay it out there: "You have a 9oz. glass and a 4oz. glass, you have unlimited water, and you need exactly 6oz. of water. You cannot estimate. How do you get exactly 6oz.?" Well, when I heard this on NPR during a Saturday morning errand run, I literally drove through a stoplight picturing this puzzler. Once I put this out there for the team, the bus adopted the focus of an ACT classroom, with me as the proctor. "Wait, Newman, do we have to use those glasses?" "Wait, can I keep emptying my glasses?" and so it goes. Thanks, NPR.
A little credit here?
 |
| image courtesy of NPR |
And all the other stuff
The Moth Hour. On the Media. Morning Edition. Weekend Edition. More recently, I used my favorite show, Sound Opinions, as my class worked on evaluations. I sent a tweet out to hosts Greg Kot and Jim Derogotis about how I was using their show in class, and they acknowledged my comment by favoriting/retweeting. I talked to my class about how we might evaluate something we are not interested in. I heard the show on another Saturday morning grocery store shopping trip. Kot shared his experience covering Yanni for a week during a December 2013 show where they let the audience ask questions. He gave criteria for an evaluation that played perfectly to my class: give context, give evidence, give insight; educate, illuminate, and entertain. What great advice. More importantly, what great advice I heard while driving 6 miles to Meijer to buy bananas.
My Dad had the right idea
My dad wasn't listening to NPR when we were kids because he was a teacher. He wasn't listening because he wanted us to listen. He tuned in to 91.5WBEZ because he wanted to punish us. No. Wait. That was the WGN720AM "Farm Report." That was how he punished us when we would hop in the car for a vacation. But he loved learning, and still does. I can't help but learn something every time I tune in to NPR. My dad's selfishness in listening so he could learn something gave way to my altruism, in that I listen so I can use the shows to help my teaching. My students. Or maybe, selfishly, I listen because I like it in the same way he did. I learn something every time.
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