We had visitors today.

A group of English teachers from Argentina arrived on our campus today to see what teaching English in America is like. I couldn't believe my students' reactions to this incursion. They had some legitimate questions like, "Of all the places in the world, Mr. Farley, why did they come to Beaumont?" The emphasis was theirs, not mine. They had some frightening questions like, "Argentina? Is that in West Texas or somethin'?" I had no reply. All in all, though, their questions told a single story over and over again. My students, by and large, despite the current globalization of the human race, are very isolated in their own little world here. They don't see outside. They certainly don't go outside. They often don't seem to realize that there is an outside.

I can't imagine.

I will continue to do my best to keep pointing at the windows, and hope that some more of them unbury their faces and get up and cross the room to see what's out there.

It's not like it's going to be everyday, but...

...I don't want to forget that I'm here. That's all. I think I have it looking the way I want it to look. So now, thoughts...

My students are all scrambled out. They have been scrambling since August to be ready for TAKS tests. They scrambled through the fall and winter. They scrambled right up to the Writing test back in March, and at that point, they were still fresh and ready. I worry about them now. Don't get me wrong. They'll do the job come the day. But they seem weary. Some are resorting to an apathy even greater than that displayed by most kids in the 7th grade. The apathy makes the fear, frustration, need, and - by definition - desire go away. So they act tough. They screw around. The get into trouble. Trouble is easier at this point. We have nothing but a briar patch with which to frighten them into the right thing, and they are tired now of hearing all of the right reasons to do the right thing.

I truly believe that this would not happen if we stopped teaching it all in terms of the test. They are ground to dust by that word. TAKS. It's going to be on TAKS. You'll need to know this for TAKS. You're going to fail TAKS. You won't pass TAKS unless you get this. Blah, blah, blah-biddy-freakin-blah. We steamroll them with their own fear until they are numb and apathy becomes no longer a choice but an instinct, a defense mechanism. When did we stop teaching the material and the skills and start teaching the test?

Every year I wonder from March to May whether this will be the year that my instincts let me down. It hasn't happened, yet (thank God, my desk is made of wood), but it could, I guess. You see, I don't preach the test. I try to show them how to write. I try to show them the difference between good writing and bad. I teach them to find what they already know instead of walking around like zombies claiming that they've never heard of a verb. I make them think, and once their brains are alive, it's easier to teach them. But even then, we don't "learn the test" until just right before we take it. This has always always always always worked.

Is my subject easier? Is it somehow easier to demonstrate a command of a language as twisted and bizarre as English is than it is to demonstrate logic? Maybe the bizarre nature of our mutt of a language is better suited to their zany adolescent mindsets than subjects that rely on reason and critical thought. Maybe English is just the one thing that most of them are surrounded with day in and day out, and so all I have to do is point out the difference between the right and the wrong. Maybe the fact that my test comes earlier in the year is an advantage and not a disadvantage. I get them when they're still fresh and learning. They don't get ground down to a pulp for another month or so.

I don't know. I just know that it's my job and everyone else's to make sure that they succeed regardless of where their own attitudes might be. Maybe I should whistle. Worked for those goofy dwarves. I'll try that.

What's up with that title?

There we were. A bunch of teachers sitting around the computer lab being taught about blogs and how to use them in the classroom. The district is always looking for new ways for us to communicate with parents and make ourselves accessible to them. So we're learning about blogs and wikis and other interactive web hoodoo when the supremely intelligent presenter asks us to create our own blog. Now, you should understand something about me. I don't like to do things half-baked just to learn how it works. That's a waste of my very precious time. Therefore, I went forward with the notion that I would one day being talking to parents, friends, colleagues, and maybe even students (if they're resourceful enough to find me out here), and I wanted something that would represent me - the real, honest-to-God human being that I am.

So, a title. Hmmmm...at this point, I felt like so many of my students who attempt to postpone the actual beginning of a writing assignment by ostensibly thinking of a title. But, in this case, the program would not let me begin the actual creation of the blog until I had thought of one. I felt frustrated. Annoyed. No little bit bitter. So, of course, I thought of death.

Now, don't think me silly. I actually thought of death throes, to be specific. The painful thrashing attempt to postpone the inevitable. The precipice upon which we all must stand before venturing forth into the great beyond. Etcetera. Etcetera. Etcetera.

Having had such a morbid thought pop into my head, I figured I needed to find a way to make it better, happier. I accessed the ceaseless supply of optimism given to me by my mother (she's a Cubs fan - need I say more?) and realized that I don't want to die. I never want to stop living this beautiful life with which I have been so abundantly blessed. Therefore, if death throes be inevitable, I pray that mine might be never ending. That way, even if I spend eternity upon the precipice, I should never have to bid adieu to this luscious life.

And it's mine. So that's the title. Farley's (that's me, of course) Neverending (never dying, never leaving the life I love behind) Death (the mystery of what lies beyond) Throes (the toil, work, and frustration through which we all must go in order to maintain a life worth living).

Having precluded an eternal string of ridiculous questions about my morbid-seeming-yet-quite-optimistic title, I welcome you once again to my little world. Take good care of it, please.

Welcome colleagues!

My fellows in crime and education, I welcome thee. It is most gratifying to imagine that we might one day be joined here by a host of students present and former, their parents, and any other yoo-hoos who happen to stumble upon our little piece of heaven by accident or intention.

Spread the word. Let's vent here. email is so passe.

I'm glad I came to work today. God forbid we should learn something at an inservice. Thank you Professors Stanfield and Wood for spreading your dirty tricks that we may all share in the goodness of it.

Jenny, stop working and start blogging.

Entry the First

This is a place we can talk. A few simple rules: if you wouldn't say to someone's face, don't say it here; if you wouldn't want your mother, your preacher, or your boss to see it, don't say it here (they're all members, too!); and finally, provided the first two rules are respected, speak your mind freely without fear of recrimination.

This place is for us to vent, to scream, to rant, to heal, to be. We can dream, hope, imagine, and wish here. It is a place for us to write.

I will be checking grammar and spelling on a fairly regular basis, so please write in standard English so that everyone can enjoy what you have to say without having to use his or her secret decoder ring.

Write away!