Today I conquered many of my fears atop Buttermilk Mountain here in Aspen. Nevermind that many call this Aspen's smallest hill. To me it was larger than life.
I purposely placed myself in my 6th and 9th graders' ski shoes. That is, knowing that I feared getting on skis and actually skiiing, I thought about how basic reading and writing is for a few of my students.
At the moment, I am so exhausted from the experience (although mentally energized by what I conquered), that I will say more about this tomorrow or late tonight.
For now, I survived. Not sure it was fun. Then again, the shear frustration of my many falls caused me to relish the opportunity to get back on my feet and hit the slope. It was the only way I could get off this endless hill.
So, I will close this particular post and hunt down some Pepperidge Farms Tahitis (Coconut and chocolate cookies). Then again, I better wait for JoEllen's fresh-baking walnut chocolate cookies.
~Kevin
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Art Showing and Teaching
I guess because I am a newer teacher (2nd year), I am always looking for similarities between what's out there and my profession. Teaching is the most human and humanitarian of professions.
So I'm in Aspen visiting one of my favorite galleries. The proprietor introduces himself. I ask about an artist (Fabian Perez). The man explains that the paintings of fancy, reclusive women on couches is an echo of the artist's being raised in a brothel.
"Come to our other gallery. There are more paintings there." When I ask him exactly where, he leaves his art gallery and walks me to the corner. We continue to walk, and I ask myself when he will run back to his unguarded gallery.
It never happens. He walks me several blocks to the Royal Aspen Gallery. There, he walks me upstairs.
"It smells good," I marvel.
Walking to a Perez painting (a thinking woman in a black evening dress), he explains, "It's good to touch a painting." I run my hand over the painting, feeling oil. I caress the face.
This man is a pro, I tell myself.
An hour later, I take home (to my in-law's Aspen house), an oil painting. This one is called "Rare Blooms" and features lifelike renditions of flowers. They are raised and tactile.
And I remind myself that the best teachers take the time with their students. They allow students to touch and feel. They don't just talk about poems about apples or oranges; they bring apples and oranges into class.
I bought.
Students learn.
Enough said.
So I'm in Aspen visiting one of my favorite galleries. The proprietor introduces himself. I ask about an artist (Fabian Perez). The man explains that the paintings of fancy, reclusive women on couches is an echo of the artist's being raised in a brothel.
"Come to our other gallery. There are more paintings there." When I ask him exactly where, he leaves his art gallery and walks me to the corner. We continue to walk, and I ask myself when he will run back to his unguarded gallery.
It never happens. He walks me several blocks to the Royal Aspen Gallery. There, he walks me upstairs.
"It smells good," I marvel.
Walking to a Perez painting (a thinking woman in a black evening dress), he explains, "It's good to touch a painting." I run my hand over the painting, feeling oil. I caress the face.
This man is a pro, I tell myself.
An hour later, I take home (to my in-law's Aspen house), an oil painting. This one is called "Rare Blooms" and features lifelike renditions of flowers. They are raised and tactile.
And I remind myself that the best teachers take the time with their students. They allow students to touch and feel. They don't just talk about poems about apples or oranges; they bring apples and oranges into class.
I bought.
Students learn.
Enough said.
First Post
My love,
I finally followed a friend's advice and started my blog.
There. Now I can start recording my AHA moments in writing and teaching and learning. My students give me so much to think about. I am grateful to be a teacher.
Love,
Kevin
I finally followed a friend's advice and started my blog.
There. Now I can start recording my AHA moments in writing and teaching and learning. My students give me so much to think about. I am grateful to be a teacher.
Love,
Kevin
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