It is confusing that, despite being decades away from an agrarian America, we still use our agrarian calendar for schooling. It's easy to see how we got this way: The system that pushed us through the Industrial Revolution, and was retooled for the post-war baby boom has a momentum to it. As childhood increased in value, nostalgia for one's own childhood drives desires to keep the traditions enjoyed from the idyllic portion of one's life in the bloodstream of the next generation. "We always did this when I was a kid," is one of the reasons that twenty-first century children are hauled off to visit national parks, camp in the forest, or any number of other options. Entire industries build themselves off of this tendency.
We're crushed by the weight of that history and tradition. We've codified the laws to ensure that there are a certain number of days on the school calendar (though, and I'm not advocating this, if we dropped all the breaks from the schedule and went on Saturdays, too, we'd get the requisite number of school days in a little more than seven months), and even a certain number of "seat time", hours in which students are expected to be in class. Though there are ways to circumvent this--home school is a more approachable option for most, and private schools could pull it off to a certain degree--there isn't a lot of motivation to do so. At least, not in the circles I hear talking.
So that puts us in this weird position of it not yet being Labor Day and I've now met my new batch of students for the "year". (I guess there's a joke in there about our educational system meeting for nine months and calling it a year--something about new math standards or something. I'll let you carve out your own.) My legs hurt (too much standing) my mouth is still dry (too much talking) and I have enough new stuff to figure out that I'm not 100% confident about any one thing of my life. I need to review the students' names one more time (I try really hard to get my students memorized by the second day), and I have this whole Shakespeare class I'm teaching in which I'm supposed to give the students some skills they'll need for becoming adults. It's...exciting and kind of weird.
Oh, and the eclipse. We went out as a class right before totality (in Utah, we got about 90% or so completely covered) and looked through special glasses at the sun. I had my blinds up, and I noticed as the eclipse waxed that the world outside was becoming filtered, grayer, as though overcast. However, once we went outside, I noticed the difference: The shadows were as sharp as ever. There was a crispness to the gray world. While it didn't go completely dark (going to show how much light the sun produces when even a sliver of its typical sliver is getting to the planet), it was still cool to see it happen. Only one of my students acted like she was too cool for a solar eclipse; she listened to her iPod instead.
So, now that we've had a solar eclipse and the temperature is still consistently in the nineties, I have begun a "new year" at school.
It's kind of exciting.
We're crushed by the weight of that history and tradition. We've codified the laws to ensure that there are a certain number of days on the school calendar (though, and I'm not advocating this, if we dropped all the breaks from the schedule and went on Saturdays, too, we'd get the requisite number of school days in a little more than seven months), and even a certain number of "seat time", hours in which students are expected to be in class. Though there are ways to circumvent this--home school is a more approachable option for most, and private schools could pull it off to a certain degree--there isn't a lot of motivation to do so. At least, not in the circles I hear talking.
So that puts us in this weird position of it not yet being Labor Day and I've now met my new batch of students for the "year". (I guess there's a joke in there about our educational system meeting for nine months and calling it a year--something about new math standards or something. I'll let you carve out your own.) My legs hurt (too much standing) my mouth is still dry (too much talking) and I have enough new stuff to figure out that I'm not 100% confident about any one thing of my life. I need to review the students' names one more time (I try really hard to get my students memorized by the second day), and I have this whole Shakespeare class I'm teaching in which I'm supposed to give the students some skills they'll need for becoming adults. It's...exciting and kind of weird.
Oh, and the eclipse. We went out as a class right before totality (in Utah, we got about 90% or so completely covered) and looked through special glasses at the sun. I had my blinds up, and I noticed as the eclipse waxed that the world outside was becoming filtered, grayer, as though overcast. However, once we went outside, I noticed the difference: The shadows were as sharp as ever. There was a crispness to the gray world. While it didn't go completely dark (going to show how much light the sun produces when even a sliver of its typical sliver is getting to the planet), it was still cool to see it happen. Only one of my students acted like she was too cool for a solar eclipse; she listened to her iPod instead.
So, now that we've had a solar eclipse and the temperature is still consistently in the nineties, I have begun a "new year" at school.
It's kind of exciting.