Short Answer Response Brainstorm

I will compose my essay Beautiful Mind style across the edges
of a double helix spiraling into a black hole

I am writing the biography of my grandmother, the woman of no
schooling, the gardener of no pesticides, the curandera of no antibiotic

Check me as I copy Cube and Dre’s ‘Today was a Good Day’
How many pages of my fantasy novel do you think they’d understand
I’m fixin on a pie chart to chart π

I wonder how hard it’d be using pointillism to express
a response of the proctor’s resemblance with Barack

Surely, Ms. Dickinson would appreciate a modern take on the airiness,
the levity concerning this context of ‘There’s a Certain Slant of Light

Me I’m gonna decoupage the school in test booklets
I will redraft the Treaty of Bosque Redondo and sign my name X
Can’t stop me from punching braille when they feed us blind lines

Question One

Use the following definitions to inform your answers for the questions below

test 1    |test|   noun

  1. a procedure intended to establish the quality, performance, or reliability of something, esp. before it is taken into widespread use
  2. a short written or spoken examination of a person’s proficiency or knowledge
  3. an event or situation that reveals the strength or quality of someone or something by putting them under strain

Match the number of each definition to the correct reason for the proliferation of testing in American schools:

______ grit is classroom/boardroom buzzword du jour

______ the schoolcorporation politic holds education over the coals until all is rectified

______ oral exams are so 20th century

True or False:

______ In readying these tests for their day in the fluorescent sun, your teacher, and principal, and school district, and state…participated in a clear procedure intended to establish the quality or reliability of this experience before it was taken into widespread use for Short Cycle Assessments, Standards Based Assessments, End of Course Exams, Student Graduation Requirements, Teacher Evaluation, Curriculum Design, etc.

Inference:

Today is a demonstration of:

  1. who holds the championship belt for daydreamers
  2. the efficacy of our genetic, racial, cultural, socioeconomic heritage
  3. how much our nothingness controls our everythingness
  4. the heartbreaking fallacies of Dr. Seuss’ Oh the Places You’ll Go

 

 

 

Code of Ethics

Last year I wrote a handful of poems inspired by Standardized Testing content, environment, philosophy, politics, reality, competition, consequence, bias, flaws, opportunity. These poems were posted onto this blog on March 19, 2013. On the following morning, I was instructed to remove these poems from the blog or face consequences with my teaching license. I promised to repost their content the following month once testing was over, but thought better of it. I was contacted by the Santa Fe Reporter to discuss the censorship and breach of test security. I thought better of that as well.

But this year I will be writing a poem a day this March to voice concerns, foster dialogue and relate what is happening in public education. Today’s poem is inspired by the legal documents I received in light of last year’s poetry. Pictured below, I was required to read my responsibilities regarding STATEWIDE STANDARDIZED TESTING SECURITY ISSUES AND REGULARITIES (6.10.7.11) and CODE OF ETHICAL RESPONSIBILITY OF THE EDUCATION PROFESSION, STANDARDS OF PROFESSIONAL CONDUCT (6.60.9.8/9).

Code of Ethical Repsonsibility

Code of Ethical Responsibility of the Education Profession

Owning up to my missteps, I was in breach of 6.10.7.11 Provision C for Staff Responsibility reading: It shall be a prohibitive practice for anyone to: 1. photocopy or reproduce in any other fashion including paraphrasing, any portion of a standardized test including a student’s answer; 2. Teach from, possess or in any way disseminate a photocopy or other reproduced or paraphrased standardized test or portion of a standardized test.

As well, I also compromised my duties as a teacher in New Mexico concerning 6.60.9.9 Provision C (19) reading: the educator shall not engage in any conduct or make any statement (a) that would breach the security of any standardized or non-standardized tests; (c) that would give students an unfair advantage in taking a standardized test; (d) that would give a particular school or a particular classroom an unfair advantage in taking a standardized or non-standardized test.

At the time of penning the censored poems, I had never read these provisions for the responsibilities of carrying my license or continuing to teach students in New Mexico. My intention was not to offer students a leg up on their peers. I did not strive to compromise the test security. I intended to process my day the best way I know how. To filter my experiences, frustrations and joys through poetry. In this case that was a dangerous deed.

Now that I know, I will not gain creative inspiration directly from testing content. Though, from my vantage point, the tests remain deeply inspiring while completely devoid of creativity.

But I will be writing everyday. Not of the test, but of the testing. Not of the score, but of the student.

(italicized parts lifted from existing legislative wording and structure)

I, Public Educator

Title Now: Primary and Secondary Education
Chapter Immediately: The Person, the Student, The Human in Public Education
Part Existential: How to Exist in Education
Issuing Agent: A Teacher of Security Breaches, A Teacher of Voice

Scope: For all those who pay taxes, who appreciate learning and citizenship; by this meaning non-litterers, voters, parents, employers, public officials, welfare recipients, landowners, bigots, lobbyists, holographs

Statutory Authority: The Law of Sight, Breath and Beating Heart
Duration: The length of employment of the poet
Effective date: August 2008 upon employment or March 2013 upon censorship

Objective: To attract like hearted individuals to the greatest profession man has yet created. The poet wishes to inspire man and woman, boy and girl, to learn, feel and give, for collaboration is a dying (or never birthed) ideal of education. The poet wishes for others to rise, resist, remake, inhabit, refute, satirize these words and hollow out the hollowness of the profession to finally make full the educator, the lobby, the great hall, the calling.

Definitions: “Education” means struggling against struggle, against injustice, against closemindedness, against economics-based metrics of progress. “Ethical Misconduct” refers to apathy, complacency, short-sightedness while engendering citizenship and the morality of youth. “Grounds for Termination” relates to willful or unconscious reinforcement of the institutional limitations on students of rural, urban, disadvantaged, impoverished, differently colored, independently spiritual backgrounds.

Code of Ethics: I, a professional educator of New Mexico, affirm my belief in the worth and dignity of humanity, the supreme importance of the pursuit of truth, scholarship and citizenship.

Standards of Professional Conduct:
1. Never accept district-, state-, or federal mandated curricula without sound reflection, critical discourse or self-expression within or without of the classroom. Maintain integrity when dissenting by basing our public criticism of education on valid assumptions as established by careful evaluations of facts.
2. Promote community involvement through cross cultural and intergenerational experiences. Instruct with the health, wellbeing and sustainability of community in mind.
3. Expose students to the gift of inquiry engendering self-exploration and alleging truth above personal safety.
4. Deny lazy consumption of American consumer culture through social justice pedagogies for economics, geology, land, identity, politics, language, art and genetics.
5. Forego the use of History textbooks which fail to make reference to the following individuals: Daniel Berrigan, Russell Means, Cesar Chavez, Geronimo, Wangari Maathi, Frederick Douglass, Kevin Powers, Tim DeChristopher, Woody Guthrie, Arundhati Roy, Howard Zinn, Liu Xiaobo, His Holiness the Dali Lama, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Malala Yousafzai.
6. Prepare students for mastery of standardized tests while fostering dialogue concerning test biases; lack of research-based reasoning for its proliferation; the uneven playing field established, strengthened and perpetuated by tying its purpose to federal monies and to evaluations of self, demographic, school, teacher.
7. Recognize the opportunity of all students’ life paths, lifestyle choices, and alternative realities by acknowledging their point of view and validating their voice.
8. Motivate students to expect kairotic moments in their lives, ensuring a person’s existence is not beholden to stereotype, family name, addiction history, bank account, automobiles, disabilities, street gangs, IQ, individualized education plans.
9. Show up every day despite the legislation, the politics, the morass, the profound impossibilities. Arrive sincere and leave carved open. Bare the soul to students so they may learn of being human.

In Response to Data

Here is a primer for the month to come, my poem a day dedication to standardized testing. This was written last September. For the less discerning eye, each stanza is a haiku. For the more discerning eye, I know haiku is no longer haiku if they are related as stanzas.

In Response to Data

s p e l l
i n g t e s t
t o d a y

step into a room
full of dejected faces
improvise or sink

he chews erasers
swallowing the soft pink flecks
invisible guts

for chocolate milk
they may as well give children
needles and IVs

“don’t prefixes change
fronts of words like suffixes
hit them up in back?”

so I cannot read,
what makes you think I cannot
take care of myself?

pregnant, someone’s dear
child with a child, frail flower
blossom blossoming

autumn rain out there
can you feel our minutes wane
the sun sleeping in?

there is no spinning
like our broken record, no
waves of ocean calm

The Summer of Combustion

We had an inexplicable day off from school today. Taos was also blessed with an afternoon of intermittent rain. We are hoping for a coming season of reliable precipitation for our water, our food, our peace of mind. The wish is unlikely in an era of mega drought. But today, there was hope. Today I offer a poem written during the summer of 2011 when New Mexico experienced a dreadful season of wildfires.

I am also inspired to write and refine my poetry by the Taos Tygers Poetry Team and the upcoming Taos Poetry Festival. I love May!

Enjoy The Summer of Combustion:

This is the summer of burned Santos and fear of prayer.
People drinking water from dog dishes and coughing
fits of flu. This is the summer of restless
teethclenched sleep and poetry blight.
The summer of wandering the riverbank
finding coyote carcasses
washed from eddies of molybdenum and gold.

The summer of learning how to make love
not be love. It is not the season for love
letters boxes of chocolates and dedications. Instead it’s hands
on hamstrings man and woman
panting. Swallow each other
whole. Shared
art of body blessed blood
and sweat. This is the summer of pregnancy.

Pocketknives in trailer parks. Dead end
murders in Tres Piedres. Cocaine run
petty happiness. Mas muertes. Prison
construction. Cell after cell after cell after
scarring abuela with the edges of bandanas.
Banderas at the bodega
resetting property lines with New Atzlan land grants.
Tú ganas nunca.
Qué viva Tierra Amarilla.
The spark of war.

This is the summer of choosing sides.
The stray dogs staring at you while they shit
Like which one of us is civilized?
Low altitude military osprey flyovers
bombs dropped from NORAD drones
the War Chiefs petitioning the FAA
for clear skies during sacred times.

This is the summer of never flying again. Throwing
frisbees with children. See them smiling
something defying gravity
one hundred feet at a time. Smiling
stuck in dusty hot rattlesnake gravel pits.
They are happy simply playing with wind
plastic and chains.

this is the summer of combustion
forests up in smoke
carrying our prayers
our condemnation
sixty seven percent contained
five hundred thousand acres
hotshots whack-a-mole the national forest
trenches
ten percent contained
twenty thousand acres
engines
embers carried on sixty mile per hour gusts
forty thousand acres a day
no rain for a moon cycle
downed power lines sparking
smokejumpers
contained the mountain sangha
the land of creation stories
the bands of refugees in gymnasiums
contained
weapons grade nuclear waste
the wild west
this inferno
unrestrained

Earth mishmashing with spirit
tangled and piping hot.
Headwaters tapped bone dry.
Evaporated dams steaming. The lost source
the lost supply. Too many
found the bridge
toed the railing
and tested their wings. Too many
shooting stars
and not enough wishes.
This is the summer of rampage.

Standardized Testing Poetry

It was brought to my attention this morning that the poems I had posted last night after school needed to be removed from this blog. Expressing myself poetically from inspiration drawn from the testing experience compromises student scores on these exams. As well the validity and security of the test. Someone could have seen something sensitive to the integrity of the test within my poetics. I do not want to subject my students to more tests or standardized scrutiny. My poems were censored due to this issue. They will be reposted in April after the testing window closes.

-March 20, 6:15 pm

grace•ful•ly

Here’s a new poem for the beginning of my final week of uninhibited summer. This poem is in honor of a wonderful lady I am lucky enough to be getting to know. Very lucky. You’d be inspired as well, if you had the chance to shine due to her presence.

And then there is Dora McQuad, googled here. She is visiting State College, PA to participate in a part-celebration, part-media circus remaking how community heroes are enshrined. Her image has replaced the likeness of supersnakegrossmiscreant Jerry Sandusky of the formerly untouchable, untarnished Penn State football program. So I am also posting this poem in dedication to her. May she embark gracefully. The global attention surrounding her work is unprecedented, but worthy of such a writer and person. Her purpose emboldens quiet voices.

Enjoy.

grace•ful•ly

believing in the best possible world
wordsmiths added the suffix –ful
to grace
in order to prepare language for her arrival

they defined the sentiment as embodying beauty
taking hold of it in the veins
and beamed from the heart
in every gesture genuinely
sweetly

upon this they affixed the –ly
so to measure the elegance of her movement
in the way a soloist would an aria
or a master of brush her fresco

simple really
to appreciate this gradient of human light
like the aficionado can taste
but not press grapes

the challenge she presents the world
with her eyes encouraging in every gaze
with soft reassurance
that we too have strength
for grace in all possible abundance

that we may be seen
all living
so fully

Ah the Poets of Norn Iron

Finally I had the great honor to meet Colin Dardis at the John Hewitt Society’s reading last night. Hosted by the Ulster Museum, the reading commemorated the 25th anniversary of John Hewitt’s passing. He was a writer of Ulster planter’s stock. Lived rurally most his life, but also worked at the very museum hosting the event. I heard six poets read last night. A brief reading. Not to make my friends in New Mexico and Colorado jealous, but it rained so hard the welcoming speaker had to stop  in the middle of his opening poem. That’s rain hitting the roof four stories up. Granted it’s modern architecture, so the hull of the building is open and vast. Nevertheless, it was nice to be sipping red wine and reveling in poetry with a new friend.

It was great to see Sinead Morrissey and Frank Ormsby read among others as I have prior knowledge of their work. Very cool.

Colin introduced me to his poetic mate Chris McLaughlin (from Strabane, but no relation to the Aidan McLaughlins), and we awayed into the rain to a local pub near Queen’s University waiting out the storm. We also enjoyed the first half of Spaiin and Portugal.

We talked about slam poetry and page poetry. They have a burgeoning performance group, Voce Versa, and I had just missed a performance two weeks ago. It was interesting to hear their views of the competition of poetry. The formula of writing for the performance. The scoring of words. Our experiences with the Spoken Work were not too far off. I tried to connect them with poets on the web who are not only bringing the heat to the performance but their work stands up on the page as well. Patricia Smith and Roger Bonair-Agard come to mind. Thanks, Verse-Converse!

As the night progress, Chris and I found ourselves out under the wet lamp light, munching sandwiches from the mini store because we had missed dinner speaking of football and poetics. I really wanted to know how poets interpret the Troubles into their work. I know so many poets in the Southwest recall the loss of their culture over the centuries and how it resurfaces in their family, identity and community. Chris essentially said that the Troubles in not in play as of yet. It would be too emotionally trite for poets to go there. Keep in mind we are talking about performance poetry here. An audience would cringe at any attempt to contextualize someone’s experience with hate and violence.

This was the first time I had heard that the Troubles did not touch everyone, whether by familial loss or community identity. I had always heard and assumed that the Troubles’ tentacles had reach around everyone’s leg and kept people wriggling to get away.

Chris did mention a poet, by the name of Colin Hassard. He has done a whopping piece called Norn Iron, or how the locals say Northern Ireland. He has some great lines. He doesn’t glorify, nor chastise. He captures the essence of what it means to be from here. It is well done. Hassard’s youth was “stopping football on the streets to let army cars pass.” This is what I was hoping to find from the poetry community. At least a conversation happening about how to communicate identity, sectarian or not.

Hear and see the poem here.

A few gems:

“where teenage dreams are easy to beat”

“Belfast built the Titanic and I have it on good authority Dublin built the iceberg”

“Norn Iron, you only have two seasons: winter and the rioting season” …I’ve been calling it marching season in past posts, sports fans.

“I refuse to wear a boller hat and I’m too pretty for a balaclava”

“my dream is to straighten out your Parliament, abolish your democracy and declare myself King”

“we should take more pictures, apartheid meat wagon is a beautiful image”

“if you believed in religion as much as you say you do, the churches would be overflowing and no one would have ever died”

“Norn Iron, youse are suckin diesel”

Check out Chris’ Soundcloud page and Colin’s work as well.

The Derry Poems

Composed on napkins in the Ice Wharf over a Guinness or two, a wonderful salad and the first installment of Fish and Chips.

America

of troubles
they’ve survived

can’t imagine why they choose the suffering
of budweiser

Surname
The Doherty clan, from which we get our wonderful last name, claims it ancient lands in this area to Malin Head, the most northern point of the island…

I choose which ones look like me
their noses and postures
each Doherty and Docherty
and Dougherty Dougherty Dougherty

like they’d sign their name
the way I do
crossing the t
with the bogrise of y

The Next Movement
(not autobiographical)

The developed world’s Buddha
is traveling lonesome
but not without company

The suffering is breaking his phone
piece by piece
each day

The meditation
wearing
pocketless pants

Barstool

An old Irishman knows how to fill a barstool
like a ghost
in a house he’ll never leave

Belly up with Baby Jesus
against a Derry bar
and you’ll swear
Ulster is the Holy Land

An Oxford Professor’s Revelation

Give the part of Juliet to a Bogside lass
and she’ll butcher the iambic candence

so crassly unique

he’ll renounce
allegiance to the Queen’s language

The Pub

Headed to work after school. Not only should you come and hang out, but please enjoy this glimpse of Eske’s Brew Pub written in 2009…

Chest pressed against nine taps pouring home-made beer.
Back to quick-paced food prep
Hot plates and full bowls of delicious
Green chile stew;
Dishwasher playing silverware chimes and ceramic cymbals.

Patrons sit across the bar
“What’ll it be?”
“Libations, merriment and dinner for three!”

table-turn order-up refill-please

“undertheline”

“the-usual-pal?”

Dessert-chocolate-cake black-and-tan special-request

Low-suds glass-cleaner and sinks measured in Kelvin
Pints clink cheers for sanitation

How in the world?
Can the world be turning?
Slower than this?

Clean-up shut-down
Lights. Off.

One post shift brew.
First fresh (cigarette) breath of the night.
Stumble home sober.
Tomorrow to a different job.