Grit, p.2a

Two questions I’m thinking about before school:

In conversations over the past two days, each group has talked about grit being something that you either have or don’t, or that you have in certain situations and not others. How do we help kids see their resilience in one area and then bring it to another?

Two, how do we help students/humans think about creating resilient communities? In other words, what can we do together to make a “gritty” or “resilient” group that supports each other and that moves everyone’s work along? Is this possible? What research has been done on this idea? What still needs to be done?

Grit, p.2

We started today by writing on the back of yesterday’s article:

can grit be taught?

No one was allowed to answer maybe or both; you had to pick one or the other. I was thrilled with the conversation that followed (hope my undergrads live up this afternoon…know they will).

“Grit can be taught given the right use of strategies and acknowledgement of how to use them.” –JF

“I think we have to teach grit to ourselves.”

“You can explain what it is and how people use it but you can’t teach how to BE it.” ES

“Some people are just born with grit and resilience. Others must be taught by doing projects they love or have a connection with.” HG

“Grit can’t be taught because it is part of someone’s personality.”

“People can tell you to have self-control or give you feedback but it’s always up to you to make it happen.”

My favorite: Grit can be taught through exposure or experience. JW

—we also had an interesting side conversation about whether you can teach someone to be happy or sad, whether emotions can be “learned”.

Grit

Like most schools, we spend time thinking about grit. Resilience. Empowering students. Overcoming obstacles. Rising up.

We read Professor Duckworth’s piece from Sunday’s paper today. It’s cool — I’m reading Paul Tough’s book with my Penn class tomorrow — so I’ve been churning again on this topic.

As we read and tried to translate for each other, we got stuck on one line:

“Getting feedback is one thing, and listening to it is another.”

AB noted that that’s when they see a comment and hit resolve without thinking. But we all talked about the difference between knowing what to do and actually doing it.

We ended by composing tweets, one about oneself and one about the school:

“AD wants to teach students self-reflection (how to reflect on your work.)” MH
“We can know how character makes us a person that makes the school how good it is.” AB
“When I think about our school I see grit because we do learn about taking the steps to push yourself even when you don’t want to.” JH
“I think this article says that I should start thinking about the ways I use feedback.” KB

I wrote the following
Grit can’t be taught. School should create situations where it’s needed.

Cold greens

Greensgrow West opened yesterday and I brought the wagon over to load up. (Kara was playing in the suburbs and Colin wasn’t home yet…thankfully middle aged men with red wagons don’t merit a second glance in West Philly).

Right: mix of Collards, Russian Kale, and Lacinato Kale.
Center: green and red mustard greens and all the lettuce start they had.

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Right bed with Farmer Colin:
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Center bed:
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We also put about a thousand onions in the ground up front next to the garlic.
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Yellow and red rows alternating. We’ll see.

Colin would like to thank Sergio Aguero for inspiring his haircut.

Compost Analysis

One of the many great things about Philadelphia is the Fairmount recycling center. KC and I went there yesterday — she filled the six buckets with compost on her own — after stopping at the only good bagel place in Philadelphia.

Here’s the link to the analysis of the compost we picked up. I could spend weeks reading and decoding this with students.

Ships, Boats, Icebergs, and Drawing

Opened today by looking at a project as a ship and the likely obstacles that might present as icebergs. Once they did the drawing — and man do people love drawing — we passed the paper and their peers drew rescue planes. Or rescue fish. Or rescue whales.

Our students have gotten good at identifying strategies. What we need to work on is tracking how we implement those strategies and measure their success.

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Example two:

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New Reading List

Sorry for the big block quote. I just finished The Last Bookaneer, which made me think about Kidnapped and reading it thirty-five years ago. I was skimming Browsings last night and found these two the description of these two courses, the very thought of which makes me want to be an undergraduate English major.

Michael Dirda writing at The American Scholar

Last year, for instance, I taught a course at the University of Maryland entitled “The Classic Adventure Novel: 1885-1915,” covering 10 books. Given those dates, you can probably guess half the titles on the reading list: H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon’s Mines; Robert Louis Stevenson, Kidnapped; H. G. Wells, The Time Machine; Baroness Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel; E. Nesbit, The Story of the Amulet; G. K. Chesterton, The Man Who Was Thursday; Rudyard Kipling, Kim; A. Conan Doyle, The Lost World; Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes; and John Buchan, The Thirty-Nine Steps.

If one were to characterize all these disparate works, one might settle for the phrase “comfort books.” Other descriptive clichés come to mind: ripping yarns, action-packed swashbucklers, escapist fantasies, boys’ books. All accurate designations, but I will make the case that such stories are as important to our imaginations as the more canonical classics.

To my delight, the class proved immensely popular. Students said that it reminded them of why they had majored in English: not because they could hardly wait to read the latest in literary theory, but because they loved stories. This spring the Maryland English Department invited me back to teach again. Did they want me to take over a graduate seminar devoted to Lydgate’s Fall of Princes? Lead a class through the complete critical works of Gayatri Spivak? Teach Provençal poetry? Not a bit. Instead of these worthy projects, I’m back discussing “The Modern Adventure Novel: 1917-1973.” Our reading list picks up where the previous one left off and includes: Edgar Rice Burroughs, A Princess of Mars; Rafael Sabatini, Captain Blood; Georgette Heyer, These Old Shades; Dashiell Hammett, Red Harvest; H .P. Lovecraft, At the Mountains of Madness; Eric Ambler, A Coffin for Dimitrios; Alfred Bester, The Stars My Destination; Chester Himes, The Real Cool Killers; Charles Portis, True Grit; and William Goldman, The Princess Bride.

Peeling the onion

In our week thinking about how projects develop, how we keep them moving, and what we do to solve problems, I asked everyone to do a drawing of how their project might resemble the layers of an onion. I’m trying to help everyone see the connections between all the work they’re doing.

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Recommendation letters

I had a pang of guilt regarding a letter I need to write soon and thought I’d begin class this way: think about a project that evolved over time and explain how someone might recommend you based on this project. There were a number of telling letters — for the conversation I had them discuss other individuals at the table and projects they completed — but the negative one below shows a level of self-awareness that is truly compelling. And sad. When s/he’s rich and famous, I’m going to send this their way.

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Project development

Rainy Monday morning. Taking up another ideal of ours — problem solving — somewhat obliquely with this journal question:

How do projects evolve or change or develop? What factors affect the process? Why do projects change?

Some of the responses we talked over:
* people find a better way
* people’s minds change
* people want to challenge themselves; think beyond where they are.
* when things aren’t going well, finding a way to change it.
* people are dissatisfied

JW: Projects are like building a model. First it’s on a piece of paper, then a replica (a small view of what everything is supposed to look like), then it’s the real live model. The way you start to build will affect the outcome. So the process is everything: if it is created strongly than most likely what you will build will be.

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