Something you're probably not going to do while sitting around a campfire with your buddies.

The title pays homage to my junior high English teacher, Bro. Hill, who would always say something to that effect before plunging into a lesson in sentence diagramming.

Today I was at Williamsburg Ind. once again. And today, I learned something. In his first period class, Mr. H worked his students on diagramming sentences, which is something that I have not done since I was in junior high under the tutelage of Bro. Hill. Although I have taught ESL grammar for the last four semesters, I had not made any attempt to relearn the skill because I had thought it to be both confusing and unnecessary. However, after Mr. H's lesson today, I am going to have to rethink my assumptions; the class helped me make some important linguistic connections.

For example, his explanation of how to distinguish between a linking verb and action verb clarified my own understanding of the distinction and will help me explain the concept to my own students. His insight is that any state of being verb can take the place of any other linking verb. For example:

I feel good.

Although feel can be an action, in this case, it is clearly a linking verb, and we can know this for two reasons:

1.) feel is followed by an adjective, good.

2.) The meaning of the sentence is unaltered if be replaces feel.

I am good.

Used in a different context, we can see how the test doesn't work when feel is used as an action verb:

She felt the chill in the wind.

In this case, be cannot take the verb's place:

She is the chill in the wind.

Although poetically intriguing, the meaning of the sentence has completely changed.

In addition, I was interested to discover that there is a specific way to diagram the distinction between action and linking verbs. If a sentence contains a transitive action verb, it is followed in the diagram by a perpendicular line. Furthermore, the line indicates that an object follows. On the other hand, linking verbs are followed by a backslash that also indicates a predicate adjective or nominative comes next.

The reason I find this method of diagramming helpful is that it makes it easier to recognize syntactical patterns -- it is a visual representation of those patterns -- it is all about pattern recognition, which I believe is essential for lifelong self-education. By observing the patterns within the English language, it becomes possible to accurately predict sentence structure as it unfolds and thereby apprehend the meaning of a sentence more quickly and more fully.

In light of these realizations, the question, then, is whether or not sentence diagramming would be appropriate for my students at WCHS. On one hand, I suspect that none of them have ever diagrammed before, and few even have a basic understanding of the parts of speech -- which would seem to be antecedent to diagramming. But on the other hand, if I assume that my students cannot handle the same knowledge as their cross-town peers, would it not in effect state that students at WHS are inherently more intelligent and capable than those at WCHS? But I do not believe that is the case. Despite the achievement gap existing between students at the respective schools. I do not believe the gap is due to a difference in inherent ability; rather, it seems more likely that the difference is due to intellectual diet. Just as good health is largely dependent upon a regular diet of wholesome food in fitting portions, intellectual health and development of the mind is dependent upon a regular diet wholesome intellectual nourishment. Unfortunately, I fear that students are often given intellectual scraps, crumbs, and the occasional TV dinner when they require whole grain bread, fresh fruit, milk, honey, and meat.

Before today, I wasn't sure if sentence diagramming were useful or not, so I never bothered to study for myself (nor for my students). My assumption is a common one, I think. Our society, having for years been steeped corporatism, materialism, and utilitarianism, asserts that if something does not appear to offer an overt use that yields immediate results (and preferably results that carry a cash value), it is dispensable -- it is not to be considered any further. Moreover, it is assumed that something just as good (if not better) can be attained more quickly (and if not more quickly, then at least more stylishly) via computer programs and the latest technology. In place of patiently working towards actual understanding of language patterns and ways of expressing thoughts and feelings experienced in the hearts and minds given to us by Almighty God, we opt for grammar and sentence check on our word processors and T9 texting on our cellphones.

In place of the question Is it useful?, perhaps I should ask:

1. Is it true?

2. Does it clarify truth?

3. Is is a truth appropriate for high school students?

By changing the fundamental question being asked, I believe it is possible to gain access to vital truth that may not initially appear to have an immediate use and/ or cash value. In fact, none of the humanities (language and literature not being the least of which) can be reduced to the cold practicality of workplace applicability. However, they do encourage, facilitate, and nourish the heart and mind toward the practice of being human.

And that's where the seemingly insignificant and occasionally tedious task of sentence diagramming comes in. Because a culture and a people are inseparable from their history and language, studying patterns of language leads (over time) to reflection and insight into oneself, relationships, responsibilities, community, and society at-large.

For more on the assumptions of modern society, government, and education, follow the link below to "The Joy of Sales Resistance," the prologue to Wendell Berry's collection of essays entitled Sex, Economy, Freedom, and Community. Personally, I consider the essays presented in the book to be vital reading for any teacher; but of course, I believe it is vital reading for every other person as well.

http://home2.btconnect.com/tipiglen/resist.html

In Exile.

In lieu of flu-ridden Whitley Co. High School, my adventures in student teaching took me to Williamsburg Independent, a school about 1/5 WCHS' size. Although the school was new to me, familiar faces were nearby -- a old friend from church doing her student teaching, and newer friend who has been teaching English there for a few years. Speaking of friends from church, for a congregation of around 120 (during our school-year influx of college kids), we have a uncommon ratio of teachers to non-teachers. Off hand, I can think of at least 11 who are full time teachers as well several other students pursuing education degrees.

Back to my day at Williamsburg. The differences between the two schools are stark -- size, demeanor, classroom dynamic, instructional styles. For example, WCHS tends to be a rather lively place (for better or for worse), but at Williamsburg, "a fly's foot-fall could be distinctly heard" (to quote Gilbert and Sullivan, my favorite writers of Victorian light opera). Seriously. With few exceptions, the students where not all that distinguishable from mice. Of course, I have only been there for one day. Tomorrow may be entirely different. And I will be there tomorrow since WCHS is out until Thursday (and there are rumors of further cancellations).

That said, I had an interesting experience in one of the classes I observed today. In Mr. H's 4th period class, he began class with a journal entry titled Something that makes me angry is... and 100 words to support the topic sentence. Students, for the most part, took the opportunity to rant about various causes of teenage angst: gossip, miniature feuds, etc. It wasn't all that different from what I have always imagined Avril Lavigne's songwriting method to be.

Two of the students expressed that they have problems with authority. And of those commented that she would respect someone until that person respected her first. I felt bad for her. I don't know if it is possible to arrive at such a cynical position without having been hurt or neglected in a variety of ways over the course of many years. Of course, the position is inherently self-defeating in that imposes upon the rest of the world a standard that somehow does not apply to oneself. But if I had so foolish as to point out the basic contradiction, I would have done little except cause an uproar.

Interestingly, later in the class, the same student commented on the fact that I was writing throughout much of the period, so I told her I was taking notes for my class -- and she expressed great empathy and regret. But I let her know that I actually enjoy writing, so taking notes wasn't a big deal for me. Suddenly, this student who minutes earlier had been railing against the concept of mutual respect between human beings perked up and asked a rapid succession of questions: Do you write poetry? Do you write stories? Do you write lullabies?

Luckily, I was able to give her a "yes" or two, after which she informed me that I had earned "props" in that class. So, when she says respect, does she really mean something about you is cool? That would rather shallow. Another possibility is that she desires to feel some kind of connection based upon a similarity or admiration of some kind. Maybe she wants attention and doesn't know how else to get it. And that's understandable.

Quarantine.

Today began a three day cancellation of classes at Whitley Co. due to widespread illness among the student body. I would love to say that I get to spend some time catching up on readings, homework, reading for fun, playing guitar, and a thousand other things one might do (or might not do, which would also be grand) on days off from school. But no.

Today I did actually refrain from finding another place to observe due to needing to run some church-related errands in Knoxville. But I have found a place for the rest of the week. It looks like I'll be observing with a friend of mine from church who teaches at Williamsburg Independent.

So, tomorrow. WHS.

The Air of the Free

Few writers have challenged my thinking and priorities more in the last few years than Wendell Berry. He is a Believer, a husband, and a farmer -- and he is all those things at the same time -- each one inseparable from the others. His words are strong and call readers to a vision of humanity, life, and creation that has been rejected by most.

I include this here because my educational philosophy is the overflow of my worldview -- and again, Berry has challenged it from the first time I read him over three years.

The Air of the Free

TV, computers, and the Internet
Democratize our sins, so that
The smallest child may have a dirty mind,
And this is progress for our kind,
Enriching those who most deserve to be
Enriched, leaving in poverty
The ones who're most deserving to be poor.
This way our art and literature
Serve our God-given freedom to express
Ourselves however we think best
And be as uninhibited as hogs,
Our electronic catalogs
Conveying all our everlasting hopes
While we glide down the frozen slopes
Of the statistical analysis And the opinion poll.

Let this Be a sign unto us: the plug, once plugged,
Cannot forever be unplugged.
When shocked by our electrifying diet
Of filth, inanity, and riot,
Official violence and family quarrels,
We pray to government to save our morals.

If it weren't so cliche, I'd say "TGIF."

This has been quite a week: two classes per day, twenty-four hours of intestinal hell, and rain enough to want to climb into an ark.

I have, however, managed to get my homework done (again!) well before the due date. This week it happens to be the KTIP Task E, in which I was supposed to reflect on my strengths and weaknesses and come up with a plan for growth. Here's the section where I described them:

Identify your strengths in terms of tasks and related standards.

After self-reflection and conversations with my ST and Dr. Gibson, I believe that my strengths lie in the areas of applying content knowledge (Standard 1), planning instruction (Standard 2), and building a safe learning environment (Standard 3).
I have a growing understanding of English language and literature that has come from a life-long love for words and stories. It is what I do in my free time – I read and write – and not necessarily for academic purposes as often as for enjoyment.

However, English being fun for me is not, on its own, a strength in the classroom; there are plenty of people whose love for and understanding of English far exceed my own. What turns my passion into a classroom strength is that I do not want to keep it to myself but share it with others. Before being a teacher ever crossed my mind, I spent countless hours and long nights discussing literature and language with family, friends, and even an occasional stranger. And upon entering college, I began tutoring on a daily basis and leading study groups. When I began my MAT, I started teaching ESL on the college level and began learning how to communicate my passion to people from diverse backgrounds and people groups. My students from those classes have gone on to excel in higher level English classes, and I believe that their success is due to their hard work and the structure for the classes that I developed.

Because of my enjoyment for sharing stories and words with others, the classroom is exactly where I want to be. And because it is exactly where I want to be, I am able to build solid rapport with my students – whether they are from China, Nepal, Brazil, or Whitely County. I think that students can sense when a teacher actually wants to be there with them, and the teachers who want to be elsewhere are far easier to ignore or dismiss entirely. Students reflect what teachers model in the classroom.

Identity areas for growth (tasks and related standards for which you might need support or assistance to be successful) and types of professional development you will need.

Again, after reflection and several conversations, I believe that I need to grow in the area of assessment and communicating learning results (Standard 5) – both in frequency and reflection upon results in an attempt to improve instruction. Although I believe I need to grow in this area, I believe my difficulty with it arises from my misgivings about the underlying philosophy of traditional assessment. I understand that teachers assess conscientiously and that they sincerely believe traditional assessment is the best way help students grow in understanding and application of information.

But does it really work? Even if test scores go up, or if there is data to support that learning is taking place, what impact is it making in the all-important real-world? Is the crime rate dropping? Are their fewer unwed mothers? Are their fewer neglected children? Is conforming to state standards actually improving the state?

These are big questions, and they will take a significant amount of time, study, and thought. In the meantime, I know my place is in the classroom, so I will conform to current standards within the school. Moreover, my misgivings could be completely unfounded, so I need to sit at the feet of teachers who are older and wiser than I am.

Back in the Saddle

As I mentioned in my last entry, Tuesday night and Wednesday weren't exactly pleasant. By the grace of God, it proved to be a 24-hour illness, and I was back in school today. But it was rough. In lieu of sickness, I felt more or less dead for most of the day.

Today I continued the with the mini-unit on verbs with both sections of English I. On the menu for today: verb tenses. Although would please me more than spending a couple of weeks discussing each sub-tense (perfect, progressive, perfect-progessive), for the sake of time and to keep student confusion to a minimum, I decided to stick with the basics -- past, present, and future. In my first period class, I got a little excited and started discussing tenses at 100 mph. I didn't realize this at first, but I did stop after a few minutes to gauge if they were with me or not, and a very honest student let me know that I was going entirely too fast. I benefit greatly from students who are honest enough to look at me in bewilderment because it usually tells me that I am not doing something right.

So, I slowed down. We reviewed what they knew already. Slowly.

After class, Mrs. Manning and I talked about a statement that I had made one of the first times she and I talked: I was sharing my experience being homeschooled and that upon entering a traditional school, I was amazed by how little was accomplished. On my own, I typically completed far more between the hours of 9 and noon than I ever completed from 8 to 3 in school. And then I would have the rest of the day for reading, playing outside, or spending time with friends (contrary to popular belief, homeschooling does not rob children of social skills; actually, the biggest hit ever taken by my social life was when I went to school). So, Mrs. Manning and I were talking about all the stuff that had to be done in class: bell ringers, attendance, interactive learning activities, test-prep, and so forth. It seems to be how things work. There is never enough time to do all that I want to do. I am constantly aware of the bell looming minutes away.

Considering the difficulties of covering all content that a student ought to know, it seems that the goal should be inspiring and encouraging self-education. I think that is the reason for the disconnect I felt between in-home education and in-school education: we had curriculum and lessons at home, but much of the day was self-directed and spent reading books that interested me.

So. Here's the question I'll be grappling with: how can a teacher foster self-education in the modern secondary school?

2sday.

The title of today's entry is in honor of all those texters (txt-ers?), several of whom are my students. Text-abbreviations litter student writing like dead cicadas on the 17th year. My favorite (and by that I mean my least favorite) is ppl, which I am given to understand means people.

As I mentioned yesterday, I am now teaching two classes each day. After teaching first period, Mrs. Manning and I debriefed a bit during planning period the following hour. She let me know that only about 1/4 of the class had participated, and that I needed to work on including all students in instruction. So, that's what I worked during 6th period, equipped with one of Mrs. Manning's tools: Mr. Muffles Worthington. He's a bow-wearing bear whose fur isn't all that distinguishable from shag carpet. While reviewing or leading the class in discussion, the hapless bear is tossed from person to person answering questions. Admittedly, it's a bit hokey. But then again, so am I. And since I was a kid, I have taken every opportunity and excuse possible that would let me throw something. So, I figured I'd try it.

All in all, the method seemed to work. Every student gave at least one response. And as a whole, every was able to apply the knowledge I was trying help them grasp: that verbs perform two basic jobs -- express the action of a noun, and express a link between a noun and a word that describes it.

Unfortunately, most students struggle in the area of grammar; I believe the difficulty they encounter arises from being taught incorrectly, sparingly, not at all, and having little if any support at home. Many if not most of my freshmen do not know what subjects and verbs are nor how to identify them in a sentence. I have been so troubled by this deficiency that I started asking around, and from what I have been told, elementary schools in our county spend little time on the actual mechanics of literacy -- that instead they briefly touch on grammar issues as they read and write. It's easy for some to condemn teachers and school systems, but according to my research, the most influential factor in emergent literacy is parental involvement between birth and age 4.

All that considered, teaching grammar is a serious and daunting task. Yet, it's one of my favorite topics to teach. I want so badly to teach my students everything I know -- to just open my mind and pour everything I know into theirs. Quickly I am reminded of Charlotte Mason who teaches that a child is not an empty sac to be filled; rather, a child is a spiritual organism who takes time to grow, and who must be fed in a healthy way. I am trying feed them knowledge at an appropriate pace. Specifically, in regards to verbs, I am starting with definition and taking time to examine how those definitions illuminate the meanings of real sentences. We'll see what happens.

All my life I was given what I believe to be excellent grammar training. It started with my own mother at home, and it continued when I entered a traditional school in seventh grade. And so I was always quite good at using grammar correctly and identifying mistakes; however, I did not begin to come to a holistic understanding (confession: when I got to this point in writing Tuesday night, I was suddenly overcome with violently intense stomach issues that had me up and down all night, writhing in my bed and on the floor the first half of Wednesday, in the doctor's office in the afternoon, and was summarily sent to the hospital for tests. The doctor initially suspected salmonella poisoning, but the tests came back clear. Now it's Thursday and though I was in school today, my body ached, and I'm pretty sure I'm running a low fever. And I've lost about 8 lbs. I will now attempt to finish my train of thought.) of grammar until I was a college junior and having to tutor on a weekly or sometimes daily basis; furthermore, it wasn't until I began teaching ESL over two years ago that several other important pieces of the grammar puzzle fell into place.

That said, it's unrealistic for me to hope to be able to teach my students all there is to know about grammar. Instead, it is my goal to help lay a foundational and working understanding of grammar, grounded in examples illuminated by definitions. Honestly, I expect a decent amount of failure on my part. It will take time, patience, and openness to truth. But slow and steady wins the race, what?

Two -a-days.

Week three begins. Today. And students are dropping like flies around me: victims of the swine flu (or perhaps hypochondria, or perhaps an overdeveloped sense of opportunism). Due to UC policy, which requires at least 65 days in the classroom (and there were precisely 65 days remaining in the high school semester on my first day at WCHS), I cannot drop like a fly, nor any other winged insect for that matter.

I believe prayer is in order.

Since I taught Mrs. Manning's 6th period freshman class week and have picked up her 1st period freshmen as of today, I'm working through much of the nuts and bolts of planning instruction for a room full of 25 students. In general, I feel confident in my content knowledge whether it be grammar, literature, or writing -- I've got that on lock-down; however, assessment and classroom management are different beasts entirely. By the grace of God (via the work of Mrs. Manning) all the classes I've been in are well-behaved; the only problem is students being too talkative from time to time; and they respond well to redirection. So, while I have had to manage the classroom, it has not been a struggle thus far.

But that leaves assessment. In Straight Talk for Today's Teachers, Mack-Kirschner begins her chapter on the subject with an insightful quote from Robert Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, a book I've dabbled with over the last few years:

A bad instructor can go through an entire quarter leaving absolutely nothing memorable in the minds of his class, curve out their scores on an irrelevant test, and leave the impression that some have learned and some have not. But if the grades are removed the class is forced to wonder each day what it’s really learning.

Although one might expect Mack-Kirschner, having introduced her chapter with such a provocative and controversial quote, to delve into a core element of modern education's foundational philosophy (either as a critic or apologist), she stops short.

In context, Pirsig is discussing Phaedrus, who questioned the very core of the traditional grading system in the first century A.D. He held that:

The student’s biggest problem was a slave mentality which had been built into by years of carrot-and-whip grading, a mule mentality which said, “If you don’t whip me, I won’t work.” He didn’t get whipped. He didn’t work. And the cart of civilization, which he supposedly was being trained to pull, was just going to have to creak along a little slower without him.

Phaedrus moved beyond the perceived problem and suggested a revolutionary alternative -- as Pirsig explains:

“the system” or “society” or whatever you want to call it, is best served not by mules but by free men. The purpose of abolishing grades and degrees is not to punish mules or to get rid of them but to provide an environment in which that mule can turn into a free man.

In practice (for Phaedrus was a teacher), he found that traditional grades held back serious students and provided a crutch for less serious students (by giving them a minimum standard to meet "just to get by").

Even if Phaedrus and Pirsig happen to be misguided or just flat wrong, Mack-Kirschner offers little defense of the traditional grading system but rather accepts it a priori; this poses a problem for a reader of her chapter who might happen to pursue enrichment through reading books she quotes. Although she poses many thoughtful questions -- What are you assessing? Why are you assessing it? How are you assessing it? and so forth -- she won't go where Pirsig has gone before her and explore the question, Why are you assessing in the first place?

The closest she comes in the chapter is by stating:

We grade to sort out those kids who know and can do and those who don't or can't or won't. We grade students because colleges demand grades and because parents and students themselves want to know how they are doing. And we grade because school districts require us to enter one or two grades in the roll book per student per week.

But does it work? With roughly 1/3 of the adult population of the U.S. functionally illiterate (http://nces.ed.gov/NAAL/PDF/2006470.PDF), it seems reasonable to question basic assumptions. For instance, in the reasons she gives, it seems that an overriding theme is that teachers gradeBecause they say so. Parents, students, colleges, school districts. However, such reasoning presupposes that the groups mentioned are correct in their assumptions, yet she offers nothing to support them. The one reason unlike the others, which is the first she mentions, presupposes that grades can in fact "sort out those who know and can do and those who don't...." Again, she moves on without discussion and asks for the reader's blind assent.

Pirsig, Phaedrus, and Mack-Kirscher notwithstanding, I want to know the truth; I want to believe it; I want it to change me; I want it to flow and speak through me. Right now I don't know which view is closer to the truth. Scripture teaches me to question the way the world operates. Long ago I memorized Romans 12:1-2. Verse two says:

Conform no longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind; then you will be able to test and approve God's will for your life -- his good, pleasing and perfect will.

For this reason, I constantly question assumptions (my own included) -- especially those espoused by systems of the world.

In the meantime, I am going to do all assessing and grading required by my degree program and the school district. And I am going to do it to the best of my ability. But at the same time, I will be studying, thinking, and dreaming about a way closer to the truth: a way that accomplishes what I believe to be the foundation of all education -- to know the truth and be free.

Friday. Oh, yes. Friday.

The weekend is upon me. Sleep.

But before all that, school. Teaching.

The junior class once again amazed me with the depth of their interest and emotional investment in The Crucible. We are in Act III and finished at the part where Abigail Williams effectively quashes the inquiry into the truth growing through the presentation of Procter and Hale's evidence.

After class, Mrs. Manning and I talked about the importance of passion in the classroom -- if a teacher does not love and is not genuinely interested in the subject and express that through his or her classroom demeanor, questions of method and procedure are entirely moot. Students will not be tricked into being motivated; however, their interest can be won by a person who is intellectually and emotionally moved by literature being discussed.

Due to testing throughout the morning hours all week, the 6th period freshman class has gotten slightly ahead of the 1st period freshman class. So, Mrs. Manning and I had talked about my coming up with game or activity for the 6th period class. After deliberating for a couple of days, the answer struck me: Fish Bowl. The class been learning about and identifying nouns as a part of their DOL at the beginning of each class. And Fish Bowl deals with nouns: each one writes down five nouns on a small piece of paper, folds it, and places it in a hat, bowl, box, or whatever else is available (said receptacle then becomes the "fish bowl"); next, everyone finds a partner; one from the first team draws a piece of paper from the fish bowl and describes each of the five words one at a time; after his/ her partner has correctly identified each of the five nouns, he/ she has to repeat them in order; each team has one minute to go through as many of the cards as possible. While a team is playing, all other teams must listen closely because if the playing team fails to make it all the way through a card, the card goes back into the bowl and will be an easy point if the next team who draws it manages to remember the nouns in the right order.

So, that's what we did for the last half of the period. The students loved it because it was fun, humorously frustrating at times, and good-naturedly competitive. In addition to those reasons, I like it because students get to interact with nouns, think of synonyms and other creative ways to express each word, listen carefully, and remember accurately.

After school, one of the students from the 1st period freshman class came by the room. He is kid who craves attention; he just wants to be noticed. He came asked how our days had been, and after we answered, started talking about his day and how he hates stories. I pointed out that he had asked us to tell him stories by asking how our days had been and that he had told us a story as well. He explained that he liked that because he knew they were true and that he didn't like reading because it took longer to figure out if the story were true or not. I appreciate the fact that he is thinking for himself, and I told him so. And I then asked him to explain more. Although there are some pretty glaring logical leaps in his reasoning, I didn't point them out. I asked a question or two asking for additional explanation, but I mostly listened. I think that's what he needs -- someone to give him time, someone to listen.

Wendell Berry, "Some Further Words"

Although I set up this account to serve as my student-teaching journal, I also thought I might post some literature that has shaped my understanding of life, truth, and education.

This poem by Wendell Berry speaks truth that I cannot reduce to a synopsis.


SOME FURTHER WORDS



Let me be plain with you, dear reader.
I am an old-fashioned man. I like
the world of nature despite its mortal
dangers. I like the domestic world
of humans, so long as it pays its debts
to the natural world, and keeps its bounds.
I like the promise of Heaven. My purpose
is a language that can repay just thanks
and honor for those gifts, a tongue
set free from fashionable lies.

Neither this world nor any of its places
is an "environment." And a house
for sale is not a "home." Economics
is not "science," nor "information" knowledge.
A knave with a degree is a knave. A fool
in a public office is not a "leader."
A rich thief is a thief. And the ghost
of Arthur Moore, who taught me Chaucer,
returns in the night to say again:
"Let me tell you something, boy.
An intellectual whore is a whore."

The world is babbled to pieces after
the divorce of things from their names.
Ceaseless preparation for war
is not peace. Health is not procured
by sale of medication, or purity
by the addition of poison. Science
at the bidding of the corporations
is knowledge reduced to merchandise;
it is a whoredom of the mind,
and so is the art that calls this "progress."
So is the cowardice that calls it "inevitable."

I think the issues of "identity" mostly
are poppycock. We are what we have done,
which includes our promises, includes
our hopes, but promises first. I know
a "fetus" is a human child.
I loved my children from the time
they were conceived, having loved
their mother, who loved them
from the time they were conceived
and before. Who are we to say
the world did not begin in love?

I would like to die in love as I was born,
and as myself of life impoverished go
into the love all flesh begins
and ends in. I don't like machines,
which are neither mortal nor immortal,
though I am constrained to use them.
(Thus the age perfects its clench.)
Some day they will be gone, and that
will be a glad and a holy day.
I mean the dire machines that run
by burning the world's body and
its breath. When I see an airplane
fuming through the once-pure sky
or a vehicle of the outer space
with its little inner space
imitating a star at night, I say,
"Get out of there!" as I would speak
to a fox or a thief in the henhouse.
When I hear the stock market has fallen,
I say, "Long live gravity! Long live
stupidity, error, and greed in the palaces
of fantasy capitalism!" I think
an economy should be based on thrift,
on taking care of things, not on theft,
usury, seduction, waste, and ruin.

My purpose is a language that can make us whole,
though mortal, ignorant, and small.
The world is whole beyond human knowing.
The body's life is its own, untouched
by the little clockwork of explanation.
I approve of death, when it comes in time
to the old. I don't want to live
on mortal terms forever, or survive
an hour as a cooling stew of pieces
of other people. I don't believe that life
or knowledge can be given by machines.
The machine economy has set afire
the household of the human soul,
and all the creatures are burning within it

"Intellectual property" names
the deed by which the mind is bought
and sold, the world enslaved. We
who do not own ourselves, being free,
own by theft what belongs to God,
to the living world, and equally
to us all. Or how can we own a part
of what we only can possess
entirely? Life is a gift we have
only by giving it back again.
Let us agree: "the laborer is worthy
of his hire," but he cannot own what he knows,
which must be freely told, or labor
dies with the laborer. The farmer
is worthy of the harvest made
in time, but he must leave the light
by which he planted, grew, and reaped,
the seed immortal in mortality,
freely to the time to come. The land
too he keeps by giving it up,
as the thinker receives and gives a thought,
as the singer sings in the common air.

I don't believe that "scientific genius"
in its naive assertions of power
is equal either to nature or
to human culture. Its thoughtless invasions
of the nuclei of atoms and cells
and this world's every habitation
have not brought us to the light
but sent us wandering farther through
the dark. Nor do I believe
.artistic genius" is the possession
of any artist. No one has made
the art by which one makes the works
of art. Each one who speaks speaks
as a convocation. We live as councils
of ghosts. It is not "human genius"
that makes us human, but an old love,
an old intelligence of the heart
we gather to us from the world,
from the creatures, from the angels
of inspiration, from the dead--
an intelligence merely nonexistent
to those who do not have it, but --
to those who have it more dear than life.

And just as tenderly to be known
are the affections that make a woman and a man
their household and their homeland one.
These too, though known, cannot be told
to those who do not know them, and fewer
of us learn them, year by year.
These affections are leaving the world
like the colors of extinct birds,
like the songs of a dead language.

Think of the genius of the animals,
every one truly what it is:
gnat, fox, minnow, swallow, each made
of light and luminous within itself.
They know (better than we do) how
to live in the places where they live.
And so I would like to be a true
human being, dear reader-a choice
not altogether possible now.
But this is what I'm for, the side
I'm on. And this is what you should
expect of me, as I expect it of
myself, though for realization we
may wait a thousand or a million years.

Testing. And lots of it.

The mornings this week at good ol' WCHS have been testy. And by that I mean full of tests. On-Demand Writing, pre-ACT, other random writings, and assuredly four or five others in this place of assessments bouncing off cinder-block walls. And today we ended up meeting for the two afternoon classes only.

After assuming my hallway post, I cracked open a folder-full of journal entries that my 6th period freshmen had turned in the day before. In addition to exploring "The Gift of the Magi" and some of their insights, I gave them the opportunity ask me a question if they desired. Most of the questions were simple: What's your favorite color? What's your middle name? What position did you play in baseball? But one of them stuck out from the rest and gave me a chance to practice what the State calls enrichment; the student, after composing one of the better journal entries in the class, asked, "What are your thoughts about the story?" Here's what I wrote to him:

What are my thoughts? That's a great question: so here they are....

I like the irony of the name "James Dillingham Young." The name sounds like it could belong to a millionaire, and the narrative tells us that he once was financially successful. Perhaps his family well-to-do, or perhaps he merely aspired to wealth and privilege and was at one time on his way. Either way, he is now stripped of all worldly success.

In addition, I find it significant that the name is fading from the inside-out. Worldly ambition -- the desire for fame, riches, and privilege is ultimately a problem that comes from the center of a person -- from the heart. It seems, then, that the fading name is a symbol of a fundamental change in his heart; and we can see that change evident in his selfless love, care, and sacrifice for his wife, and his surrendering of worldly possessions. Because of this heart-level change, he is no longer "James Dillingham Young"; rather, he is Della's beloved "Jim."

A day of (slight) rest.

After the maelstrom surrounding my first day of observation subsided, I went to school eager to knock out some homework; but as it turned out, all the work that I did in preparation for my observation lesson plan was the homework for the week.

Needless to say, I was relieved.

So, during the morning testing (through which I sit in a desk while hall-monitoring), I got to work on some grading and planning for the rest of the week. Most days, sitting in a drafty high school hallway for two and half or three hours is not my cup of tea. However, after a weekend of less than the daily recommended dose of sleep, a day trip to Atlanta for recording, and a couple of days trying to figure out (with limited success) the finer points of KTIP lesson planning, sitting was grand.

In the afternoon, I was in the classroom again. During 5th period, Mrs. Manning's plans to continue with the dramatic reading of The Crucible were thrown off by several students being absent. Several students adamantly expressed their desire to continue with the story. I've been with the class almost as long as they have been working through the play, and their minds and emotions are piqued by the story; they are emotionally and intellectually invested in the characters and the narrative. Although Mrs. Manning stops occasionally to clarify or ask students to recall previous events, she basically lets the text speak for itself.

According to Charlotte Mason, people (including children and teenagers) tend to connect with truth when it is presented in a literary manner. She maintains that God has designed the human mind to digest knowledge in the same way he made the stomach to digest food. Just as it disastrous to a person's physical well-being to eat fastfood every day, it is disastrous to the heart, soul, and mind to "eat" a steady diet of intellectual fastfood. In contrast, it is vital to nourish children and students with what Mason calls "Living Books," stories that pull you in with rich language, truth, and even controversy. It is a healthy diet of living books that is so desperately needed by students who have cell phones for fingers and XBoxes for eyes.

Living books feed living souls and breathe whispers of what it means to be human in a fallen world. And that's what I saw again today. The students hungered -- they wanted more of what they know to be a good thing -- and I know it may take time (years, even) for the seeds of truth to grow within them and bear fruit. In this class, at least, they are being nourished.

Observation, the First.

Today, It hit. My first observation. Originally, it was scheduled for Thursday, and I felt confident that Mrs. Manning and I would have no problem sifting through all the pre-requisite paperwork on Monday and Tuesday, and that I would have it all ready to turn in to Dr. G sometime Tuesday evening (pre-observation paperwork must be turned in at least two days prior). No big deal.

And then I realized that there would be testing each morning this week and that there would be no 3rd period class on Tuesday for Dr. G to observe. So, on Sunday I contacted her, and she informed me that the only other option would be Tuesday, and that I needed to get the paperwork turned in ASAP. As I began trying to fill forms that have long and very official state-sanctioned names, I soon realized that I had been wading near the shore, ventured towards the middle of the river, and summarily stepped off into a sink hole....and the current.

It was at that point that I, more than somewhat bewildered, called my supervising teacher. Although she herself has not had to work through the same forms as I, she was quite helpful. Helpful and patient. We were able to work through the A-1 and a good portion of the A-2 lesson plan (we had already discussed it quite a bit throughout the previous week); however, there were documents and PowerPoints we were planning to use that were at school, so I couldn't finish until the next morning. Concerned that the problem we encountered would affect the observation, I sent an email to Dr. G explaining the situation, and she replied and said I needed to get them to her ASAP on Monday.

So, Monday. I was able to finish the lesson plan in the morning, and I sent it to Dr. G for her approval; when I received it back from her, it turned out that she had torn it to shreds. Apparently I had left out a good amount of necessary information and had included a decent bit that wasn't needed. Due to the hour at which I received the email from her, I couldn't work on revisions until the morning.

And Today. Tuesday. By the grace of God, testing was going on all morning, and since student teachers are(per state edict) barred from the classroom during testing, I spent the better part of the morning sitting in the hallway in a desk on a laptop revising my unfortunately deficient KTIP lesson plan. Again, by the grace of God, I was able to finish it to the best of my knowledge and ability during the two hours of testing. And then at lunch I was able to attend to a couple of last minute details, print all the different forms and documents I had, paperclip them, stack them, and place them neatly on the sign-in desk at the front office for Dr. G's arrival.

As the afternoon progressed, my nervousness increased. Although I feel comfortable in the classroom and always have since my first days teaching ESL at Cumberland, I had never been officially observed and evaluated. Scary, right? And in the classroom today were Mrs. Manning, Dr. G, and a substitute teacher (Mrs. Manning had to leave in the middle of class to take her infant son to the doctor). The need for a substitute teacher really threw me off. Apparently the State says that a student teacher cannot substitute; so, even though Mrs. Manning only missed the last 15 minutes of class, they had to have a sub. The thing that baffles me is that although I have a bachelor's degree, have completed all the classes for a master's degree (save Student Teaching), and have been fully qualified to be hired as a fulltime teacher since I began my graduate degree two years ago, I can't be in the classroom for 15 minutes without a substitute -- a substitute who has less education than I do and possibly has never even taken an education class. Of course, I wouldn't refuse to comply even if that were an option; I submit to the policies the school must uphold; however, I don't understand the reason(s) behind them. But I digress.

As the 9th graders began filtering into class, I already had the bell-ringer projected on the Smartboard, and I began walking around the room learning the students' names (yesterday was my first day with that class). The bell-ringer (which happened to be a Daily Oral Language exercise -- a sentence with missing punctuation and capital letters and errors in syntax and parts of speech) went smoothly. Some prompting was needed, but they did a satisfactory job fixing the sentence.

Next, I asked for a student to volunteer to come to the board to be the scribe as the class reviewed different forms of irony. Again, the class answered well. After that I had prepared a pre-reading journal entry for them, but I forgot; it completely left my mind, and I jumped into introducing the story, which happened to be "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry. And then I plowed right into to reading the story as a class. Soon, I realized my mistake, but it was too late. I couldn't go back. My omission did nothing calm my already bristling nerves. What would Dr. G say? She had my lesson plan right in front of her, and very clearly indicated pre-reading journaling sandwiched between review of irony and story introduction.

My lackluster memory notwithstanding, the reading went well. Some of the observations students made as we read pleasantly surprised me. One student commented that John Dillingham Young's middle name fading on his mailbox is an ironic symbol of his eroding social standing and economic security. I don't remember her exact words, but that's the gist of her comment -- and from a freshman! I have been worried about the need for me to possibly tone down some of the critical aspects of literature and language; however, her response, in addition others, suggests that they can handle more than I initially anticipated.

At the end of the period, I confessed to the class my mistake. I apologized and gave no excuses for myself, but I suppose I managed to have a positive and humorous approach to my own failings, so they seemed to be amused by it. I was glad for their response. After the students had gone, I headed sheepishly to the back corner desk where Dr. G had set up shop for the period. To my surprise and comfort, she was very understanding about my missing part of the lesson plan. And she was encouraging and helpful overall. We reviewed her notes and assessment thus far of rubrics I have to fulfill, and she offered praise as well as constructive and specific criticism of some aspects of my teaching that need work: areas such as assessment, and engendering more student-centered instruction. In addition, she walked me through some trouble areas of the KTIP lesson plan I completed, and I now feel much less in the dark about requirements and expectations.

That said, my only regret is that there was no way for me sit down with her (or be in a real classroom with her) to talk about the KTIP before it was due and before I had to teach from it. There are, of course, notes and exemplars on the class website; however, I learn significantly more through in-person interaction, whether individually or in a group. I find it a terrible shame that UC only offers the MAT online. The interaction I have had with my professors in person has been nothing less than excellent. I also find it ironic that in a time when designing instruction to accommodate for multiple intelligences has never been greater, that classes addressing the subject by their very nature alienate and limit those who thrive on personal interaction.

But today, I got to spend some time with Dr. G, and I believe I will teach more effectively because of it.

Monday.

Although this first experience I am going to mention didn't occur in the classroom, it does pertain to class reading. One of the suggestions from Teaching with Love and Logic that has struck me is giving students limited autonomy: giving students free choice of equally acceptable options. I tried this method while leading children's Sunday school at my church. At the end of the hour, I asked the kids if they wanted to pick up their toys by themselves or if they wanted me to help them. Both options were fine with me. They chose for me to help them, so I did. The work was quickly completed, and all parties were happy.

Today, I assumed teaching responsibilities for my first class -- 6th period English I. Because I had spent 6th period with the Drama class last week, today was my first time meeting the students. I began class with a DOL; after allowing about 7 minutes for students to work on it, I asked for a volunteer "scribe" to man the Smartboard. As students gave their responses, I led them in connecting their correct answers with underlying grammar conventions. Following the DOL, students paired off and swapped rough drafts for peer-editing. For students who already had completed a final draft, I read their letters and gave suggestions on problems to look for as well as effective ways to correct those issues. Any time I can work with students individually, I feel like I am at my best; it's in one on one interaction that I feel most alive in the classroom.

Although I feel comfortable and competent in the classroom, there is one aspect of teaching that has begun to cause an enormous amount of stress in my life: KTIP lesson planning. I understand the need for vision, preparation, reflection, objectives, and standards; it is absolutely essential. However, the language of state standards, the litany of documents and forms, and the overall systematic and bureaucratic coldness of the system weighs heavily upon my heart and mind at all times -- in the classroom, at home, reading assignments, in bed, at church. That's not to say that the system does no good, nor that I strive to give anything but my very best; at the same time, I wonder if there is a better way: a way that "conforms no longer to the pattern of the world." I want to be transformed by the renewing of my mind and for that transformation to overflow into my teaching and the lives of my students.

D-Day+3 (Friday)

Throughout the week I have been leaving the tutelage of Mrs. Manning to help Mr. Sweet with the WCHS Drama class. Mr. Sweet is one of the pastors at my church, and I have known him for going on five years. Currently they are working on their fall production, Jack Tales, which is a collection of short stories from Appalachia derived from Grimm and other middle European folk sources. The stories traveled with the original settlers from Europe to the New World and became part of the place just as the people did. After simmering in a pot of oral tradition in the mountains for a couple hundred years, they were recorded in the 1930s in the previously mentioned volume. The production is an ambitious effort to reconnect students with a lost piece of their Appalachian culture and heritage.

This week I have collaborated with Mr. Sweet in minor ways; however, most of my time has been spent in observation of Mr. Sweet "blocking" (adapting the short story format to the stage) a couple of the stories. He wanted me to observe in order that I might block one of the stories on my own at the end of the week. And today, that's what I did. Mr. Sweet assigned to me the story "Fill Bowl, Fill," a tale of magic, trickery, faith, adventure, and wit; he also gave me the task of coming up with an alternate ending due to a somewhat abrupt and puzzling end to the original.

So, today I walked with the Drama class to the WCHS amphitheater (they have no indoor stage nor theater), notes in hand, ready (as best as I could be) to be director for the day, and wondering if the students had any idea that I had never been in drama class nor blocked a play before. I was just a bit on the nervous side. But when we arrived, I took center stage, called out the actors chosen for that particular sketch, and started directing: "You go here, now you enter stage right, exit here, now take him off stage and cue the screaming and chopping sounds!" (it's a rather bloody production, all in all).

And it all worked out.

The students liked my directions and stage adaptation of the narrative, and we all had a good time. During the blocking session, the teacher was backstage (but close within earshot) doing some necessary prop work and organization; he commented later that he was thankful for all the help that I gave, especially today, and he approved of the direction I took the actors.

I had never thought I would be able to direct, but now I have another way that I can contribute to the school outside the classroom.

D-Day+2

Today was a good day. For starters, I was blessed with a whopping 6 and a half hours of sleep, so I was feeling a bit more alive when I walked into school this morning, my first 7:15 early duty notwithstanding.

What I noticed most today is that many of the students are beginning to warm up to me (not that they had been at all cold during my first two days). For example, a couple of the classes today had to report to the gym for about 10 minutes each for yearbook pictures. As I walked with the classes during their respective class periods, several crowded around me and wanted to know all about me -- everything from how old I am to how long it took me to grow my beard (just leave it to freshman boys to ask that question; and after I answered, one of them piped up that he could grow one too; it was hilarious!). Walking back, other students wanted to know more about the music I play (my ST informed some of them that I am a musician) and some fellow musicians shared their thoughts on music, the instruments they played, and one even asked me to play guitar at his church. I am sure they would treat any student teacher in a similar way, but it's nice to feel welcomed and liked. I suppose the honeymoon will last until I'm assigning homework!

These experiences throughout the day led to a conversation with my ST about the importance of "getting students on your side." She has clearly done so with her students, and through my time in her classes, I hope I will be able to do the same.

Another bright spot today was my involvement in the classroom steadily continuing to increase. During the 5th period 11th grade bell-ringer, one of the tasks facing students was correctly punctuating a group of words. After they correctly placed all necessary commas, I asked them if they understood why they were correct. Surprisingly, they didn't know why they were right! So I took a minute or two to explain (trying to use as little technical terminology as possible) the idea of reordered adverbial phrases: when an adverb phrase is moved from its natural position to the front of the sentence, that change is denoted by placing a comma between the adverbial phrase and the independent clause.

I love teaching grammar, and I believe it is my strongest content area. So, that experience in class led to Mrs. Manning and I talking about the possibility of my unit being focused on grammar. And I think it sounds pretty promising.

Day 2

This morning began in a haze -- fog on the ground, and fog in my head. The previous day was intense: I was up at 6, at school from 7:30 to 3:30, drove straight to campus to take of some errands, stayed on campus from 5-9 working a part time job that I had to take that involves calling prospective students (student-teachers are unpaid, so on top of loans, I had to take this job just to eat), band practice from 9-10, Wal-Mart for groceries after that, and then I was finally able to collapse into my bed around midnight.

That said, I was excited for another day in the classroom. Throughout the day my involvement in each class increased. I assisted with bell-ringer assignments, circulated around the room answering questions, interacted with students on a more familiar level, and learned everyone's name in two of the classes (we'll see if I can remember tomorrow or not....I think I've got it).

The highlight of the day came in third period senior English. One of the students had a couple of questions about the assignment he was writing, and as I read over it, I realized that he had not mastered several vital concepts. So, I spent a few minutes with him at his quietly explaining and writing out some examples in an effort to bridge the gap. This student had written about a paragraph and a half without using any punctuation, his syntax was badly skewed and never varied from S+V+O pattern. The main issue I tried to tackle was punctuation, so I explained the idea of clauses and independent clauses and how to identify them quickly and easily. After identifying clauses, the correct places for punctuation become more clear. Tomorrow I'm going to follow up with him on his questions and try to see if the information helped.

As I have been preparing my classroom management plan, I have been impressed with my ST's methods. As I have mentioned previously, she maintains clear control without the result being a tense, lifeless classroom. She begins each class with a bell-ringer, writes the day's tasks on the board, and typically maintains close physical proximity to the students by constantly coursing through the room. The only discipline problem she typically deals with is talking out of turn or off subject, and her method dealing with such issues is simple and effective: after one or two warnings, she keeps the class 30 seconds after the bell, followed by 1 minute if the problem arises again. So far, no class has been kept longer than a minute. In addition to being simple, fair, and effective, it naturally lends itself to self-correction: when one or two students are out of line, often several other students call them back to task without the teacher having to address the issue at all; it is likely that self-discipline encouraged in this way could naturally lead to self-motivation in numerous other ways. And it seems that the goal of every teacher should be to teach in such a way that the students end up educating themselves.

First day @ WCHS

This morning I arrived at WCHS bright and early, as did two other fellow MAT-ers, for the first of 70 days student teaching. Upon my arrival, I expected to walk right into the principal's office and be with my supervising teacher within a matter of minutes.

Not so.

Apparently there had been some sort of intense physical altercation on one of the buses, and it had effectively corralled the time and attention of all three principals. For the better part of an hour, there was a whirlwind of administrators popping in and out of offices, meeting with students, and ushering an officer of the law from room to room (apparently handing out citations!). This wasn't exactly the type of excitement for which I had tried for the last several weeks to prepare myself.

Around 8:30 one of the principals was finally able to carve out a couple of minutes to introduce himself, cover a few basic policies, and usher us to our STs' rooms. Walking into Mrs. Manning's room was a breath of fresh air. When I walked in, the 9th grade students were in the midst of a vocabulary test, and Mrs. Manning was coursing the rows of busy pens and pencils scratching away on filler paper, bantering with the students as the worked.

I observed Mrs. Manning once last year, and I immediately saw that she has control of the class; however, the atmosphere is positive, even humorous most of the time; her control is firm without being at all tense. For example, during a vocab quiz later that day, she pulled a cap-gun from out of her belt (that had been completely hidden by her jacket) and belted, "Hands up!" to check the students' hands for vocab words scribbled in ink. And it was hilarious. Sure enough, there were no offenders.

During 3rd period Senior English, Mrs. Manning gave a test prep for "On Demand" writing tests that the seniors will be taking next week. The test requires students to be familiar with several rhetorical modes and be able to write in an assigned style on the demand of a random prompt. Today the students prepared by reading a prompt, brainstorming, and composing rough drafts.

The particular prompt assigned was a letter to be written to one of Kentucky's US Senators persuasively expressing the student's position on the issue of labeling cloned food. As I walked around the room and answered questions and assisted students, I observed that almost none of the students understood the prompt. Some thought they were supposed to give their opinion about cloning itself rather than labeling; others didn't understand who the recipient was supposed to be; others didn't understand that it was essential to read the entire prompt. And very few if any seemed to care. Upon reflection, I don't blame them. How is someone supposed to write with passion and persuasion about a topic that he or she has not experienced or at least spent time studying? This is trying to coerce the students into writing without engaging in any writing necessary prerequisites: namely, reading and thinking.

This form of testing seems to be symptomatic of a disease plaguing modern American education: teaching to the test. The testing springs from what is no doubt the best of intentions: that students learn important skills and apply them in some quantifiable manner. So, a test is concocted that says if students can do X, Y, or Z on the test, then they have mastered root skills A, B, C. However, the focus in the classroom shifts from intellectually-rich core concepts to training students to regurgitate on cue.

What I mean is this: today students did not research the issue of cloned foods, cloning, the nature of bureaucracy, or the constitutional responsibilities of the Federal Government nor of themselves as responsible citizens. Moreover, the students did not read literature that has sprung from similar issues: books like The Jungle by Sinclair Lewis, for example. And because the students did not read pertinent information and literature, they did not engage this very serious issue with the minds with which God blessed them; they did not think. No. They felt around in a dark room that contained a vital rhetorical mode, but without irreducible antecedent experiences and thoughts, the light remained turned off.

Misgivings about "The System" aside, I am excited about what the semester has in store. I feel quite encouraged by my supervising teacher, her classroom demeanor, instructional methods, and our interaction, in addition to my interaction with the students thus far.

My philosophy of education

Philosophy of Education

I want to be a teacher because my passion is discovering truth and sharing it. I believe that God designed the mind to be nourished by truth and knowledge just as he designed the body to be nourished by food and water. I believe that the majority of children in America are mentally malnourished due to the educational diet given them. They are malnourished because the underlying educational philosophy is flawed. This philosophy holds that “Education = workplace applicability,” and that the ultimate goal of education is enabling “companies to reach their zenith in competitiveness” by utilizing “skilled people who have the magical human touch to reach into the souls of customers in order to ensure loyalty.” This approach is hailed as “practical education.” (Alternate Scheduling, 2007, p. 2).

In contrast, I believe that education is authentic exposure to truth. Thus, I believe that my role as a teacher is to be a facilitator, a mentor, a window to truth; I would be getting myself out of the way to allow truth to shape the hearts and minds of students in a way that will naturally produce human beings that breathe humanity into the “real world” wherever they happen to be – whether inside a classroom, inside a cubicle, behind a desk, stirring soup on a stove, planting crops, collecting garbage, or at the head of a conference table – whether they are successful in terms of accumulation of money and material possessions in the “practical” “real world”, or not. Although practicality is an important aspect of education, I believe that it is “practical” only when it prepares, encourages, and facilitates the practice of being human. Such an approach strips modern education of its ulterior corporate motive and plants it firmly in a world more real than can be imagined by those motivated by power and money. In fact, knowing the truth sets one free from being another exploitable, expendable cog in the machine.