Defy the Stars

Dear Class of 2019,

On this, our last day together, and also the last day of my 22nd year of teaching, indeed, the last day of my traditional classroom teacher career, at least for now, it seems like a good time to reflect.  Yet I have avoided this moment for months. I did not want to say goodbye. It seems too final. Too sentimental. I might cry if I let myself think about how much I will miss the classroom, though I’m excited about the change in our futures. I find myself overwhelmed, so instead I will tell you a small story that’s really about, among other things:

* A teacher 

* Some hope

* A lot of Membean words

* Some Socratic Circles

* An author virtual visit

* A bunch of good books 

* Arguments about who gets the good chair

* And quite a lot of shenanigans

Seriously, looking back on our time together, I can’t recall a single day I didn’t look forward to 6th Period in Room 4.  It is my sincerest hope that you felt the same.  This room, this community, is a safe space because YOU make it that way, and I thank you for your generosity to one another.  In an interview, John Green said,  “What I like about reading together is that we all make it happen together. Of course even amid shared experience we’re still alone… each reading of each book is unique. But what a comfort it is to share readings and experiences. How lucky we are when we get to be alone together.” I saw this magic in action after we read The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian.  It was Homecoming Week, and I was concerned about some “traditions” that have come into existence in recent years: jello-wrestling and “Daddy’s money greenout.” As we discussed the essential scene in the book where Arnold plays on the rich, white basketball team against Rowdy and poor reservation team, I tossed out the question: “How would Rowdy and Junior feel if the Reardan fans started chanting about how rich they are? Saying ‘Daddy’s money’ and wearing green shirts and ‘making it rain?’” I watched the eyes widen and people in both circles lean in. Many of you were offended on the characters’ behalf, yet others chimed in with “It’s a tradition!” and “It’s all in good fun!” Some of you were uncomfortable at the tension between wanting to carry on a tradition and not wanting to be like the kids in the book. It was a stimulating conversation that allowed us to enter the scene, bringing our shared life experience with us to shine a new light on the situation in the book and in our own lives. I challenge you to create a new ritual that might become a tradition, one grounded in positive sportsmanship and empathy, if you have the courage to speak out and lead by your fine example. That was just one amazing gem of a day among many this year. How lucky we were to "be alone together" with this story in a place where everyone’s ideas are heard and valued. You are an eloquent group of serious talkers and listeners.  

As I think about the threads that tie our readings together, I am circling around some central questions:

Why is humanity so violent?  How do we stop the cycle of violence?

What does it mean to love someone? (friends, family, romance, love, lust)

How and where do you find hope when you are desolate and lost?

How do we define ourselves? What happens when you choose to define yourself outside of the boundaries set by your culture?  What happens when fate forces you to live outside those lines?

What happens when society defines you differently because of your outward appearance?

Scylla or Charybdis?  (Homer’s version of “Would you rather…”)  Reservation or Reardan?

What should or shouldn’t we read and talk about in school and why? 

As you head off to the high school, think about Junior’s observation, “Life is a constant struggle between being an individual and being a member of the community.”  This is actually the central struggle of many of the characters we’ve studied like Hans, Liesel, Katniss, Romeo & Juliet, Rashad & Quinn, Ryan Dean West, Robbie and Austin. It is also a central struggle of adolescence. Don’t let your individuality be snuffed out by the communities to which you choose to belong. Each of you is valuable and precious the way you are at this moment. Keep true to your internal compass and choose your own path. Don’t let your friends, your team, your enemies, or your community choose for you. My deepest hope for you is to continue to discover who you are and for you to be that authentic self as much as possible.

One quotation that has been returning to me again and again lately is Romeo’s quote, upon hearing of Juliet’s alleged death, “I defy you, stars!” Though it’s ultimately futile, there’s a raw bravery in rejecting fate or what others define as your destiny. If Romeo would slow down and think things out for a minute, he COULD have defied his stars. As Finn, in Andrew Smith’s 100 Sideways Miles says, “We feel as though there are no choices we’d made through all those miles and miles behind us that hadn’t been scripted by our fathers, and that our futures are only a matter of flipping the next page that was written ahead of us.” You are NOT trapped inside a script or destiny written by others. You create your own destiny. If your “stars” are obstacles or a trapped mode of existence, flip the script. Defy the stars. Get after it!

As I look back on the year, and on my career, I am reminded of Liesel’s thoughts in The Book Thief, “When she came to write her story, she would wonder when the books and the words started to mean not just something, but everything.”  Books and words have meant everything to me for as long as I can remember. They are my escape, my refuge, my strength and my hope. Sharing my love of them is my legacy to you, whether I’m reading aloud, providing you reading time, placing the right book in your hands at the right time (my superpower!) or providing you with a classroom library. Stephen King said, “Books are uniquely portable magic.”  May that magic be a part of your life always, especially when you don’t think you have time for it.  Make time. Squeeze it in during lunch or before bed. You won’t be sorry. In Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith, Austin tells us, “History shows that an examination of the personal collection of titles in any man’s library will provide something of a glimpse into his soul.” Well, you’ve seen a glimpse into my soul by the books lining the walls of Room 4.  I hope you found a little piece of yours here as well. I will leave them for the next generation of students to discover.

You have tolerated all my teaching experiments with gracious engagement. You have embraced my commitment to open my room to student teachers and given them positive growth experiences they will never forget. You have challenged me to continue learning how to be the most effective teacher I can be.  I know that I failed you on multiple occasions and that we didn’t cover everything you wanted to learn. In 22 years, the one constant is that there will never be enough time. But the great thing about learning is that it never stops. And I have faith that you will all pursue learning for the rest of your lives. Maybe writing, or genealogy, or knitting, or archery. The key is to figure out what your future teachers’ passions are and learn all you can. ALL of us have something unique to offer, so embrace the challenge, padawan learners!

I celebrate you today.  You ARE ready for the next stage. I just hope they are ready for you!  As Margo says in Paper Towns,  “It is so hard to leave—until you leave.” Enjoy this day, but don’t long too much for the past.  The best days are always ahead of you. But in the days of darkness, treasure this gem from Sherman Alexie:  “Humor was an antiseptic that cleansed the deepest of personal wounds.” No matter how wounded, laugh as much as much as possible.  Find the irony, the absurdity, the slapstick silliness and hyperbole in your situation. You might still be on the downward spiral, but it’ll be more fun if you laugh all the way down. Who says you’ll never need what you learned in English class in real life?!  Please keep in touch, and remember, when all else fails,  read, write and seek enlightenment.

Make wise choices!

Mrs. Paulsen 

aka Five Feet of Fierce (or Fury)

"B" is for "Bruce Springsteen" / Thunderstruck

Originally posted at Literacy & NCTE Blog 

March 7, 2016

 This is a guest blog by Jennifer Paulsen, President of the Iowa Council Teachers of English.

Photo Credit: Erin Miller. Jennifer Paulsen and Mitch Adams, Legislative Assistant to Representative Dave Loebsack

I was due for a bit of serendipity.

A three-hour flight delay in Chicago played havoc with my Washington, DC, fantasy librarypalooza plans: Library of Congress, Folger Shakespeare Library, and Daughters of the American Revolution Genealogy Library in one fell swoop fell through, and I had settled for a majestic whirlwind sweep of the Library of Congress, losing my beloved hand-knit purple hat in the process. Then a torrential downpour turned my scenic evening walk to meet an old friend for dinner into a challenging obstacle course, wading through flooded streets sans umbrella, trying to follow unfamiliar directions on my phone while keeping my reading glasses dry enough to see and my contacts from being washed from my eyes. Alone in a strange city, I was soaked to the bone and exhausted by the time my cab deposited me on the hotel curb after a lovely, if uncomfortably damp, late dinner. I fell asleep uneasy, hoping the very late arrival of my friend Erin would bring sunshine and courage.

I had not attended a political gathering of any sort, unless you count my grandfather’s kitchen table, since the 1987 Iowa Caucus. A short stint on the Iowa Core Commission completed my nonvoting involvement with government. But when NCTE President Doug Hesse issued a challenge at the 2016 NCTE Convention Affiliate Breakfast to send a delegation to Washington, DC, for NCTE Literacy Advocacy Day, I felt called to a learning opportunity that might be beneficial in representing the interests of our Iowa Council of Teachers of English (ICTE) membership. So Erin Miller and I, president-elect and president of ICTE respectively, had traveled a long distance to meet with our representatives and advocate for literacy education. To say the least, I was out of my comfort zone. But Erin makes me feel brave, so with her very late (or very early, depending how you frame it) arrival on the scene, I prepared to seize the day.

Jennifer Paulsen, Erin Miller and Congressman Dave Loebsack

Our first item of business was an invitation from Representatives Dave Loebsack (D) and David Young (R) to Coffee with Your Congressman. As we signed in and wrote our name tags, we were warmly welcomed by a young man who, as it turned out, was also from my adopted hometown of Cedar Falls, Iowa. I studied his friendly face, dark hair, and blue eyes while he examined my name tag again, on finding out Erin and I are teachers.

“Mrs. Paulsen?” he asked. “I think you were my teacher.”

Incredulous, I asked his name again.

“It’s Mitch Adams. Class of 2003. Aren’t you the one who was crazy about Bruce Springsteen?”

And there it was. A precious gift of surprise. After thirteen years.

“Yes! That’s me! We studied Springsteen lyrics in Modern Literature.”

“‘Thunder Road’ was my song,” he said.

“My favorite!”

“I know! That’s why I picked it. Did it get me extra points?”

We dissolved into laughter, his sweet smile and merry eyes recalling his seventeen-year-old face to my mind, and I saw him clearly, lanky form half-sitting, half-leaning over a friend’s shoulder, laughing in the row of orange desks parallel to the windows in my old classroom at the high school, before the renovation.

We chatted about his friends and siblings and his job as a legislative assistant to Representative Loebsack as he smoothly steered us toward the refreshments, introducing us to the other staffers. He slipped away to visit with newcomers as both representatives introduced themselves. It was a lovely, lively conversation of personal connections and mutual interests marked by genuine curiosity about NCTE’s positions, which we would discuss in more detail at our afternoon appointment with Representative Young. Both men and their staffs were gracious hosts, and I looked forward to continuing the conversation.

As Erin and I worked our way toward the door, I found Mitch so that I could take a picture and say goodbye.

“‘Thunder Road,” I laughed, shaking my head, still not believing I’d come all this way only to find a bit of home waiting to sustain me.

“I think of you whenever I hear it,” he chuckled.

As far as legacies go, I’ll cherish it, Mitch.

My heart soared as Erin and I headed to our next appointment, the chorus rolling to its explosive apex in my mind, “Hey, what else can we do now? / Except roll down the window / And let the wind / Blow back your hair . . .”

I floated through the rest of the day on this sweet serendipity. Fearless.

Jenny Cameron Paulsen is an English teacher by day and ninja bookworm by night who grew up in Kansas City, Kansas, and now lives on a farm in Cedar Falls, Iowa, with her dear husband Chuck and her teenage son Tommy. For the past twenty-two years, teenagers have been her chosen people.