What I'm Learning From Reading -- Part 1

I'm smack in the middle of editing and scoring 60 community college critical thinking papers (hence the bloglessness), that are, for the most part, pretty decent.

The topic isn't an easy one, especially for conservative Medford, Oregon: "How have the events of 9/11 shaped or shifted the U.S. perspective on Muslims?"

Yet, the papers--the first of the term--are sophisticated in sentence structure, with questions, semi-colons, participial phrases.

College-level word choice is used.

Usually content is a problem: putting in what's relevant, and keeping out what's not. Hard to do in 5 pages. But it seems less so this time.

Because it's APA, there's an abstract, and a reference page.

It's all definitely not something a student can whip up in an hour.

Most papers are either B-s or Fs.

Here's what's going well: leading into and away from citations, using transitional phrases, integrating implications and interesting introductions, titling the person quoted.

Militant Islam is distinguished from Islam itself.

Conclusions include calls-to-action of examination, understanding, and education.

The pitfalls are what they usually are: connecting introduction to the body, achieving length, citing properly, tightening conclusions.

I try to head off those issues in class, but they seem hard to overcome.

In all, I learn from these. How to be a better teacher. How to be a better writer. How to be a better person.

Most students will put about 10 hours of work into writing these papers.

Between the planning, the prep, the instruction, the grading, me, I'll put in about 60.

Love and David Levithan

David Levithan strolled into A Children's Place bookshop in Portland with a blue backpack strapped to his back, and shoes that were nice, but which had pounded a lot of pavement.

He talked mostly about the World Trade Center memorial lights: how he had first seen them while driving back from the airport after flying in from London, how they illuminate the city during the anniversary of 9/11.

He said that Claire's pilgrimage mirrors his own, that she was the character hit hardest by the tragedy. The passage Levithan chose to read was "The Lights," narrated by Claire.

He explained the reason his climatic scene starts in the first chapter.

There were no books to buy; the store had run out before the visit began. But Levithan, in his well-ironed shirt, was unruffled; he crammed wisdom and his autograph onto skinny strips of stickers.

And he gave me a CD of songs he had made. I listened to it all the way home, partial to tracks 4, 6, and 10.

Before I left, though, I had asked Levithan about the conclusion. I teach my college students there are only so many kinds, I said, and I've tried and I've tried, but I can't figure this one out.

That's because there is no real end, he told me, It's like the tragedy itself; it's just not all wrapped up.

Then he put his arm around my daughter for a picture, and I thought, this man is love. He writes about love and he talks about love and he walks love, walks it right in those nice but well-worn shoes.

Best. Papers. Ever.

While my kids sorted and traded their Halloween candy on Sunday, I finished grading my community college students' papers. This is the last writing class most of them will ever take. It's critical thinking/persuasion.

Our topic was a tough one: terrorism. And the readings were even tougher: essays from the American Spectator, from National Commissioners, university

professors, politicians.

This was the question: How have the events of 9/11 shaped the American perspective on terrorism.

Now, give that a second or two. How have the events of 9/11 shaped the American perspective on terrorism?

There is fear. There is stereotyping. There is public policy. But there is no more invincibility.

It took my class three weeks to find that out. By picking apart tomes on "terror," we could define it, identify it, analyze it.

We read. We talked. We asked a lot of questions. In fact, we came up with more questions, harder questions, than the one we were given.

Then we wrote.

My paper began with the last lines of the Broadway musical "Cabaret": "It was the end of the world. And I was dancing with Sally Bowles. And we were both fast asleep."

My conclusion was what one of the authors coined "a wake-up call": how the United States' oblivion collapsed with the Twin Towers.

"Terror" is not a pleasant topic. But these papers were an absolute joy.

Every student took a stand and supported it--well.

Titles were carefully chosen, and transitional phrases were used. There were accusations, projections, calls-to-action, not to mention miraculous editing.

Every several terms, a class emerges from out of nowhere with wisdom, effort, and intelligence.

It just makes the job so worth doing.