All posts by Andrew

Ignoring the Speed Limit

My students are making movies. It’s one of my favorite projects of the year: inspired by StoryCorps, students record interviews with someone from an older generation, often grandparents or friends of their families, and then create short documentary videos based on material from the interview. Students narrate the video and include clips from the interview along with visual material to support their narrative. It’s challenging for students because it pushes them way outside of their comfort zones. Asking 8th graders to conduct extended, >30 minute, interviews with adults is a stretch to begin with. Then they have to identify a theme to focus on, write a script for the narration, find visuals (scanning photographs, finding internet materials, etc.), and master the technical tools to put it all together. Finally they share their movies with the class, often an excruciating moment for the neophyte auteurs.

All this exposition to provide context for the following conversation in class yesterday:

Mr. Roy: One of the roles of your introduction is to establish the mood and tone of your movie. Generally you want to be consistent, so if you’re telling a dark story, you don’t want to have a light, bubbly intro with goofy music.

<A student, let’s call him Joe, raises his hand, with a thoughtful expression.>

Mr. Roy: Yes, Joe?

Joe: What if you want to have contrast?

Mr. Roy: Say more about that.

Joe: I was thinking of trying to juxtapose my grandfather’s carefree childhood with the losses he faced later.

Mr. Roy: <silent> <mouth hanging open> Ummm, yes, that sounds … freaking awesome. If you can use “juxtapose” in a sentence, you can and should ignore everything I’m saying.

Keep in mind that Joe is a 13-year-old boy. I’m looking forward to his movie!

Student Reflections

Below is a collection of quotes from student reflections in my eighth grade social studies classes. There’s no real rhyme or reason to them; some are deep, others funny, others absurd. I added line breaks and corrected a few typos.


That’s what makes history so interesting,
the emotions that intertwine with the facts.

I am naturally good at
understanding stuff.

I love it when in group conversations there is a debate but the person with the best facts can show the other person how they are right, even if I was the one that was wrong.

Just like in science,
you can’t say something
without data.

I absolutely hate margin noting
more than I hate Activision
for making the same game
every year and brainwashing
people to buy that game.

In class, we learn about the history of our country, but notice, the class itself is not called “history,” but instead called social studies. This is because we are also learning about current and relevant events that affect us today. I can take the things we learn and connect them with things I see every day.

I have lots of opinions
and they are all
grounded in evidence.

I really want to work on speaking up more in class, and not being afraid of judgement when stating my opinion. I chose this skill because being able to talk in front of peers/people is very important, and one day I want to be a really good speaker. This class is the perfect opportunity to practice.

I know all the historical facts.

I am proud of how immersed
I am in the materials we study.

I have always been a crazy reader.

Remember that time where I corrected you on the start date of the revolutionary war? (No offense.) When I saw the incorrect date I thought back to my times in Assassin’s Creed III and remembered the date of the attack on Lexington and Concord (4/19/1775, my birthday) and my ego light bulb went off and I thought “Aha!!! My video games have brought me a point of extra credit!!!

Sometimes I am not the most thorough person.

I memorize facts by trying to use them
in outside-of-class situations instead
of just memorizing them for a test.

I am pretty good with speaking up in class,
though sometimes I do ask pretty dumb questions.

I think the trimester went pretty well,
though in the middle I kind of got lazy.

Sometimes I have trouble
paying attention to what
others are saying.

It is still a developing skill for me to take other perspectives, since I usually stay grounded in my own strong opinion and it is hard to get out.

It was really fun,
because when you know the facts,
you can ask a lot more questions,
and you are able to debate the truth.

I think it’s hard to have an opinion without evidence, and that’s why I have a lot of screenshots of conversations in my phone.

One last thing.
I recently realized
how amazing my
NASA poster is.
I mean
just look at it.


Every November, as our first trimester draws to a close, I ask my students to write reflections on how the trimester went for them. I have some broad prompts like, “Describe your strengths in social studies,” and “Describe at least one specific skill you want to work on next trimester,” followed by a section where students rate themselves on various skills (reading, discussion, writing, using evidence, etc.). Finally, they give themselves a letter grade and explain why they think they’ve earned it. It’s the culminating assignment of the trimester, and I depend heavily on it while writing narrative reports and making decisions about borderline grades.

I love reading these reflections because most students take them very seriously and I learn a lot about them, their goals, and their perceptions of their strengths and weaknesses. This, in turn, provides me with a lens to consider how well I have communicated the goals and skills required for the class. I am most successful when my students’ self-evaluations are congruent with my own perceptions.

First Ice

Today marks our first morning of the season with significant ice outside. We’ve had a few frosts and light glazes, but nothing you could slide around on. Griffin, Maggie, Zoe, and Cedar had a blast sliding around before the older kids caught the bus to school. On our walk back to the house, Maggie suggested that I take a picture to send to Mama (who is in iceless San Diego). Good thinking!

Griffin Music

Griffin Music - Album Covers
Griffin Music

Music can be tough with our kids. Some children’s music is hard to listen to as an adult. And Griffin and Maggie both like to repeat songs endlessly, bludgeoning even great songs to death. They are also mercurial, wanting to switch songs, bands, and genres repeatedly, and always wanting to control it. My answer to this has been Pandora.

At first the kids were disappointed when I put it on, because they couldn’t make requests. For those that don’t use Pandora, it basically generates playlists based on some musical seeds that you create, but you can’t request individual songs. As you listen you can fine tune the station. I created a station for Griffin, called simply “Griffin Music,” seeded it with some songs that he liked, and then showed him how to use the “Thumbs Up” and “Thumbs Down” feature to mark songs that he liked or didn’t like. After he got used to this, he loved it. (Of course Sarah and I could also go in and “Thumbs Down” songs that drove us nuts.)

While glancing over the station details recently, I was shocked to see how many tracks Griffin (and Maggie, to some degree) had marked. We launched the “Griffin Music” station in 2011. Since then we’ve added nine seed tracks. Griffin has thumbed-up 228 tracks and thumbed-down 21. Read on if you’d like to actually see those lists, a snapshot of Griffin’s musical taste over the past few years. These lists are current as of November 17, 2015, and are sorted in reverse chronological order.
Continue reading Griffin Music

Nervous Monster

On the way up to bed tonight:

Maggie: Mama, will you be a monster?

Mama: Sure! Roarrrrrrr!

Maggie, looking nervous: Wait! Um, can I be a monster too?

Mama: Sure!

Maggie: Ok, since we are both monsters, we can touch each other.

Mama: Ok…

Maggie: Let’s hold hands on our way upstairs.

Mama and Maggie, holding hands: ROARRRRRR!


Update—the following night, with Sarah out of town:

Maggie: Daddy, play monster!

Daddy: Ok. Roaarrrr!!!

Maggie squeals, makes it half way up the stairs, and says, “Wait! I’m a monster too!”

We hold hands the rest of the way, roaring together.


Update—yet another night:

Maggie: You know what? I’m super tired so I runned out of energy. That’s why I don’t want to play monster.

Not Quite as Bad

Donald Trump came up tonight during an eclectic dinner conversation, mostly between Sarah and me, but including various spawn-sponsored tangents. I don’t remember what we were saying precisely, but it wasn’t flattering. This piqued Griffin’s interest, of course, so he started asking questions about this Trump character. Both Sarah and I backpedaled off our most colorful aspersions — “ok, maybe he’s not a total idiot,” “he just likes to say ridiculous things,” “we just don’t agree with him about anything” — which only made Griffin more interested. (We usually keep the trash talk out of earshot.)

Suddenly, a look of understanding crosses Griffin’s face, and he says, “Ohhhh! He’s that guy… um, that really bad guy.”

“Which guy?”

“That bad guy. The one we learned about.”

“Where did we learn about him?”

“At the u-boat exhibit in Chicago.”

“Oh … wait … Hitler?

“Yeah! Hitler!”

<between gasps of appalled laughter> “No, honey, Trump is not as bad as Hitler.”

Review: Rebel Queen

Rebel QueenRebel Queen by Michelle Moran
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Although I usually avoid this sort of book, being suspicious of most western, orientalist portrayals of the “east,” I do love picking up random books from the many nearby little neighborhood libraries (those wonderful front-lawn libraries-on-a-post that have sprung up in recent years). This one leapt out at me, so I blazed through it over the past few days. The basic story was interesting enough to hold me to the end, but that’s built into the historical material: the clash of cultures, colonization, rebellion, etc. Beyond that, the book was a disappointment.

First, I tripped over the language. Moran makes use of some astoundingly clunky imagery. Consider a few examples:

“As anyone who’s ever lived inside a house of eggshells knows, nothing is more fragile.”

“I became like a frozen stream—hard and impenetrable on the outside, but secretly bursting with life within.”

“By the time we rode out, the lump in my throat had grown so large I could hardly swallow.”

“Love can be like the seasons, turning a green leaf into something frail and yellow.”

Hello… editor? How did these make it into the final draft? Those first two are on the same bloody page. On the bright side, as a writing teacher, it’s always good to find such stink bombs. I’ve already shared them with one English class… and even seventh graders recognized their flaws.

Second, the book succeeded in dampening my interest in the title character (the famed Rani of Jhansi). I was certainly sympathetic to the rebel cause, but after reading page after page about the overwrought opulence of the Rani, the Raja, and the members of their court, and then contrasting this with the lives of the bulk of the people in their community, it was difficult to maintain a sense of sympathy. When the British first annex Jhansi, there is a chapter that focuses on the Rani being forced out of her stupendous palace and moving to a smaller, older, stupendous palace. It’s filled with pathos, with lines like, “Thousands of people lined the roads to watch our procession to our new home, and they were utterly silent.” And the dramatic tension was sustained by focusing on whether the Rani would be able to keep her stuff, including her “elaborate peacock throne” made of emerald studded gold. But luckily, in the midst of the central drama of who gets to keep the bling, the Rani says, with tears in her eyes, “And what will happen to our people?” See, she really does care!

Ultimately, I recommend reading an actual historical account of this period and these legendary characters rather than this clumsy fictionalized version. And, don’t forget that your house of eggshells is fragile.

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Review: The Road Not Taken and Other Poems

The Road Not Taken and Other PoemsThe Road Not Taken and Other Poems
by Robert Frost
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Robert Frost never leapt out at me during my sporadic forays into poetry. I was familiar with—and moderately fond of—a few of his most famous poems, and certainly the title poem of this collection, but never enough to seek out more. I picked up this collection because of David Orr’s introduction, which did not disappoint. I love an intro that can contextualize the author both historically and in terms of current sensibilities. Orr is erudite, efficient, and precise, with enough wit (and delicious dashes of pop culture) to avoid any whiff of pedantry.

I intended to skim through the rest of it, but found myself sucked in. To my surprise, I was particularly drawn to his longer poems; I rarely have patience for these, preferring poetry that packs a quick wallop. The first that wowed me, and still my favorite in the collection, was “The Death of the Hired Man.” I read it, was stunned at how evocative it was, and reread it immediately—I was there on the porch steps watching the conversation unfold. A 166 line masterpiece. Others that leapt out were “The Housekeeper,” “The Fear,” “Birches,” and “The Bonfire.” Each of them packed an emotional punch and grew with each rereading.

My former English teachers may be relieved to know that I finally, a few decades late, get what all the Frost fuss is about.

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