Showing posts with label ENGL251. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ENGL251. Show all posts

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Schools and Personal Responsibility

This is fun

The second of my ENGL 251 essays, this one draws its inspiration from my aborted career as a classroom teacher. Written as an example of "Exemplification" the assignment was to provide examples to prove your thesis.

One of the biggest problems with the Canadian education system today is the self-esteem movement. Starting in the 1980s, teachers were told that in order for students to achieve, they had to have good self-esteem. The consensus was that failing or disciplining a student damages their self esteem, leading to lower levels of achievement in school. The problem with this concept is faulty causality; students with good self esteem do not achieve. It is the other way around. Students who do well develop their own sense of self esteem, and more importantly, develop a sense of personal responsibility in their lives that allows them to achieve on their own. Canadian schools have failed in their duty to teach this basic concept and are doing long term damage to our students, in order to avoid short term pain.

I developed my own sense of responsibility in Grade 5, shortly after moving to a new school. I told my new teacher, Mrs. Clements, that I didn’t have to study for the science test the next day. She said nothing. She knew there was nothing she could say to make me take my science text home to study; instead she handed me all the rope I would need to hang myself. I had always taken pride in my marks so scoring a 35% on that test was an important bruise to my ego. Over time I took homework and test preparation much more seriously than I did before. Later, I would graduate, with distinction, from the University of Alberta’s Faculty of Education.

Schools no longer want to “damage” students by failing them. My wife required parental permission to fail any student. That permission was never given. Unfortunately for these struggling students, each school year builds upon the concepts taught the previous year. In some cases, like Mathematics, this makes it even more difficult to keep up. By the time these students get to high school, where social promotion is no longer an option, many of them find themselves so far behind, they cannot catch up.

The results of this misguided policy were found in the Mathematics 30 classes I taught in the Northwest Territories and northern Alberta. A typical Math 30 question would be “Solve for x in 7 log10 (5x) = 28”. The problem solution is relatively simple; only one step requires any skills that are new to a student taking Math 30. The step by step solution is below:

7 log10 (5x) = 28  // Divide both sides by 7 (basic algebra)
log10 (5x)  = 4  // New in Math 30: Rearrange to remove the log
104 = 5x   // Grade 5 calculation: 104 = 10 x 10 x 10 x 10 = 10000
10000 = 5x   // Again basic algebra, divide both sides by 5 to isolate x
x = 2000   // Final answer

Very few of my students were able to do this relatively simple question correctly. Not because I was unable to teach logarithms, but because they could not handle Grade 7 algebra, or in a few cases even Grade 3 division was too challenging. Why are Canadian students unable to master basic concepts in earlier grades? It is because they do not study for exams or do their homework as there have never been any consequence for failing. From the time they are in Grade 1 until the end of Grade 9, students today know they won’t be left behind. Teachers need to ability to ensure that students do not move on to the next grade unless they have proven mastery of the material they were given this year.

Unfortunately, classroom teachers no longer have the power to teach life skills such as personal responsibility in meeting deadlines. Lynden Dorval, a high school physics teacher in Edmonton, was initially suspended for giving students who had not completed an assignment a grade of 0 in violation of school and district policies. Without the threat of a zero on an assignment or an exam, Mr Dorval reasoned that students have no incentive to complete the work as assigned. They are not held accountable for their actions. Despite support from parents, colleagues, and even his own students, Mr Dorval was eventually fired by the Edmonton Public School Board.

Canadian students do not benefit long term when schools cater to their short term self-esteem at the expense of helping students develop the skills they need to take responsibility for their own learning and behaviour. Students who are struggling with the material do require extra help from their teachers and parents, and should receive it. Extra help should not include “doing their homework for them” or passing them off to another grade to become “someone else’s problem.” Such methods do not allow students to develop any sense of accomplishment.

Their self confidence can be developed in programs, such as at Cochrane High School, where students like “Steve” often begin their apprenticeship training in one of the trades. After struggling for years in the regular classroom environment, Steve blossomed in carpentry as he learned how to frame and build houses. Experiencing success for the first time in carpentry, he applied his new found confidence in his academic classes, finishing High School with honours and a clear path to success in the trades.

Twelve years after I failed that Science test, I ran into Mrs Clements at a teachers’ rally at the Alberta Legislature. I thanked her for letting me fail when she was still in a position to help me pick myself up. No amount of grade inflation would have assisted me over my lifetime than that single moment when I had to face the consequences of my poor choice not to study. At the time, I called her the meanest teacher I ever had. But now, twenty-five years later, because she showed me the value of failure, she is the best and most influential teacher I have ever had.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

This is Fun

This is fun

This article is my Descriptive/Narrative essay assignment for my ENGL 251 class at the University of Regina. It is mostly true, with some necessary "embellishment" needed to make it a good story. When people ask me why I don't drink any alcohol, this is the reason:

“He’s vomiting again!”
“Eighteen year old male -”
“Bed 16! Stat! Crash Cart ready.”
“Uuuuuuhhrhhrrrraaaah”
“Cyanotic, breaths shallow, slow and irregular -”
“How much did he drink?"
“Body temp 32, with seizures -
“Can I have a squirrel?”
“Lethargic and confused.”
"Only one glass. He didn't even finish it."
“BAC point three four!”
"Seriously! Look! I’m trying to save his life. How much did he drink?"
"I told you. Not even -"
"God dammit! Don't lie to me you idiot! How much did he drink?"
“I’ll name him Harvey. Harvey’s a good name.”
"One glass."
"You can't tell me he only had one glass, more like twelve. How many?"
"Code blue!”

It’s a miracle I survived. Emergency Room doctors and nurses get to see this more often than they want to. New adults stumble into the ER, their clothes and bodies covered from head to shoe top in the aftermath of the explosion at the vomitus factory. If they are lucky, they are still awake, not yet having fallen into a coma after their body temperature has plunged into hypothermia, while their skin has turned a deathly blue as respiration slows to a stop, and the hypoglycemic seizures twist their body into pretzels . It’s just a matter of time before the brain finally succumbs to the toxic chemicals they have freely forced into the bloodstream.

The strangest part about my near death experience is that it should never have happened. It simply wasn’t possible that three quarters of a glass of severely over ripe grape juice did all the damage that it did. After all, I had just turned the magic age of 18; according to the ritual, I should have been downing shot after shot of whatever the bikini-clad waitresses were pushing, as if my chances of scoring with them increased after every glass. Then, after striking out at the bar, my next step should have been to stumble back home, pass out on the couch, and wake up with a pounding headache and spend the morning with my face no further than three millimeters from the water in the toilet. This is called “having a good time.”

“Finally!” exclaimed Fatima as the study group completed eight weeks of research, observation, and writing about mathematics education in elementary schools.
Vanessa grabbed the pages from the printer and exclaimed, “Beer time!”
“I’ll drive.”
“No, Lloyd. You drove last time. Enjoy yourself this time,”
I replied, “It’s not a problem, really. I can’t drink anyway. I’ll drive."
A small smile came to Fatima’s face. “My uncle’s a Friend of Bill W. Twenty years next month.”
“That’s quite an accomplishment. Congratulations to him.”
“How long have you been a Friend?”
“I’m not, but I appreciate his work.”

I did eventually learn what had happened to me on my eighteenth birthday. When alcohol enters the liver, the enzyme Alcohol Dehydrogenase goes medieval on alcohol’s reactive hydroxyl group, replacing a deadly poison with a slightly less poisonous aldehyde. That’s the theory, but my body doesn’t work that way, never has. It cannot grab the slippery alcohol molecule long enough to remove a single hydrogen atom. You would have more success asking a paraplegic to stand up and beat Usain Bolt in the 100 meters.

In most humans, the liver is able to process about 90 - 95% of the alcohol you ingest before it reaches the brain and starts killing off useful brain cells. The rest of the alcohol is slowly excreted through your breath and urine. Since my liver cannot process any of the alcohol before it reaches my brain, the effect of drinking a single glass of wine is the same as four entire bottles for most other people. I zoom past tipsy without even looking, hit and run over drunk, and crash directly into “I’ve forgotten how to breathe properly”. Because I cannot drink any alcohol, I am often mistaken by others as a member of Alcoholics Anonymous.

One August long weekend, we were driving to my in-laws to spend the weekend. I was having those coughing fits that make you curl up into a the fetal position. The force of the spasmodic coughs squeezed my stomach in a space the size of a shot glass, which has the natural side effect of making one heave, retch, and cough some more. Arriving at the Shoppers before it closed, I sprinted into the store, blindly grabbed some cough syrup, paid, and hurried back to the van. While my wife Deborah continued to drive, I downed a shot of the cough syrup and proceeded to fall asleep almost immediately.

During that entire weekend I was either asleep, snarling at my kids over the tiniest of infractions, avoiding everyone altogether, or cursing the burning pokers embedded in my eyeballs. Deborah was pissed. It was not a great weekend, and the hacking continued, no matter how many slugs of cough syrup I downed. Going home was going to be one of those trips featuring the “Silent Treatment” that husbands know so well. While sitting down to supper, I picked up the cough syrup to take another belt, and saw the ingredient list for the first time.

"Oh Shit!”

The phrase that rang out in my in-laws kitchen was definitely out of place for me, my family, and my in-laws. The entire kitchen went silent. Everyone turned their heads and stared at me. I handed the cough syrup over to my wife and quickly grabbed a glass of water. Her voice was quiet and shaking as she read out the label, "Non-Medicinal Ingredients: Alcohol". I was not quite such a donkey after all. For the first time in my life I was actually drunk, enjoying all its wonderful gifts including the nausea, headaches, and the malaise that come with the hangover as you dry out. People actually look forward to this?

After spending my life as a mandatory teetotaler and permanent designated driver, I cannot say I have missed on the social experience of drinking alcohol. When meeting people on cruise ships or in other scenarios where alcohol is heavily pushed, it does give me the interesting talking point, “Did you know there is enough poison in that wine to kill me?” In some ways, the drinkers are jealous of my life. Nights out are cheap when you don’t have to buy an overpriced bottle of wine.

Louise set her glass down, “Nice choice of wine to go with the Barramundi, dear.”
“You’re welcome,” replied Dan. “Lloyd, no wine? Here, have a glass,” he offered. He held the half-empty bottle in his hand: ready to pour.
“No thank you,” I politely responded, giving him the brief version of the story of my condition.
“Wow, never heard of that before. Too bad. I’m guessing you just don’t understand what we have been saying about how important it is to get the wine pairing correct. I personally just can’t imagine having supper without a good glass of wine to go with it.”
“No, I suppose I don’t,” I laughed, “but I have found that fresh lemonade or a Coke goes well with just about anything.”
“To a great cruise!”
As the others at the table lifted their wine glasses, Deborah and I joined in with our virgin Cuba Libres.
“Salud!”

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This is Fun by Lloyd Johnston is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.