The next series of blog entries are what Bryce sent to that school in NJ where he answers their questions about implementing an upper level program.
The Tragic Tale of Mark and How Kirsten Rescued Him
Ben,
You had asked if someone could explain what an advanced class looked like when taught with comprehensible input. Here is a snapshot of a couple of days in one of my classes this week. This is the story that we started to tell in my seventh hour Spanish 4/AP class when you and Jennie (from Alaska!) came to observe [last spring].
The grammatical structure we were focusing on had been introduced, the students could understand it and use it to a degree and even pass a test on it, but they needed some work on it to become more fluent. The structure was the Past Perfect Subjunctive/Conditional Perfect combo meal (If he had studied more he would have been able to go to college), what we refer to as the “SIPS + would” combination in my classes—si (if) past subjunctive mood + would (conditional tense).
It is highly abstract and theoretical—not used all that much and therefore hard to acquire in everyday reading and speech, but it impresses the hell out of the AP graders if kids use it on the exam. They will also need to recognize it on the exam because there is likely to be a few instances of its use in the reading and listening parts as well.
The sad tale of a life filled with regrets is a good way to practice this devilish combination (Blaine Ray and Joe Neilson have a good model of this idea in the last chapter of “Mirame, Todavía Estoy Hablando”, La Mujer Presa). That book is labeled as level 3, but I use parts of it in level 4/AP as well.
I asked the kids who was the student most likely to succeed in the class. They actually chose two, a boy and a girl named Mark and Kirsten. Then I asked them to pick a nice person in the class. They chose a girl named Mackenzie.
The kids have had fun with the story because it goes against type. The actors are super-students and seem destined for success in life, but in the story one of them is horribly depressed over a series of mistakes that derailed his plans. He becomes a listless bum on the street. The other student has the ability to go far and become fabulously wealthy because of her brain power and work ethic, but she decides to become a teacher and use her talent to help students. She winds up finding the other student on the street and tries to help him. We are not trying to make fun of depressed students – in fact, the compassion that the kids have injected into the story is heart-warming and encouraging. We are just trying to be outrageous and have fun while working on advanced Spanish grammar.
The only story line I had in my head was that a character had to have made a series of bad decisions, and then regret it. [edit. note: in 2005 at NTPRS in Kansas City I asked Joe Neilson point blank what went through his mind when starting a story. He responded that he thought about some kid who had a problem and who tried to fix it and failed or succeeded, echoing what Bryce said above about starting a story.]
The nice person is there to help him and to hear his sad story. We had done a similar story a couple of days before and the kids liked it. Since the class insisted on two characters, I had one help the other. The second student had also made some questionable decisions and tells her story too.
What follows [Bryce on AP 3] is the story as it stands after two days of asking, telling, re-asking, re-organizing, and summarizing with the class so far (we will add a bit more to explain Kirsten’s role tomorrow).
The story uses relatively simple vocabulary and sets up the use of complex grammar. “Shelter the vocabulary, but not the grammar” as Susie Gross says. Here is what we have come up with so far (I can send the Spanish translation if you would like for people to use as an extended reading):
In an upper level class the students do a lot more speaking. When things go right, the ideas are popping up all over the room and the teacher tends to become more of a moderator than a storyteller. A switch from disseminator of knowledge to facilitator; a “guide at the side” versus the traditional “sage on the stage”—just as they have been telling us in multiple in-service trainings over the years in my school district.
This is particularly obvious in an upper level class—the teacher sets the stage, but the students tend to generate more ideas and twists in the story line than in lower level classes—this makes sense because they have more language to work with and have more tools with which to express themselves. There are more nuances and things can get livelier.
I often find myself mainly asking questions and trying to understand how all of the different elements of the story tie together—reframing and re-wording it with slightly more complex expressions as the story progresses.
As with stories in level I and II, these upper level stories can quickly grow and become remarkably complex. We often have to abandon some good ideas, rabbit trails and sub plots in order to tie the entire narrative together into a meaningful whole. That is often the job of the teacher in this case—to keep on asking clarifying questions so that the overall story makes some sort of sense.
One thing I find fascinating is that the personalities and values of the students and teacher begin to emerge in the telling and re-telling of these tall tales in the upper levels. As we knead the dough of the class story together, some of our DNA rubs of off us and becomes part of the tale. In the most recent telling of the Mark and Kirsten story below, one might think that we are being cruel to the depressed.
It may look like we are being elitist towards those that don’t go to college. Those elements may be there, but deeper themes develop as well: dealing with life’s disappointments, caring for the downtrodden, taking responsibility for our actions and our duty to develop our gifts and talents also emerge. The silliness of the lower level story is still there, but an organic thoughtfulness also sprouts when we bend our minds and tongues towards building a story together.
You had asked if someone could explain what an advanced class looked like when taught with comprehensible input. Here is a snapshot of a couple of days in one of my classes this week. This is the story that we started to tell in my seventh hour Spanish 4/AP class when you and Jennie (from Alaska!) came to observe [last spring].
The grammatical structure we were focusing on had been introduced, the students could understand it and use it to a degree and even pass a test on it, but they needed some work on it to become more fluent. The structure was the Past Perfect Subjunctive/Conditional Perfect combo meal (If he had studied more he would have been able to go to college), what we refer to as the “SIPS + would” combination in my classes—si (if) past subjunctive mood + would (conditional tense).
It is highly abstract and theoretical—not used all that much and therefore hard to acquire in everyday reading and speech, but it impresses the hell out of the AP graders if kids use it on the exam. They will also need to recognize it on the exam because there is likely to be a few instances of its use in the reading and listening parts as well.
The sad tale of a life filled with regrets is a good way to practice this devilish combination (Blaine Ray and Joe Neilson have a good model of this idea in the last chapter of “Mirame, Todavía Estoy Hablando”, La Mujer Presa). That book is labeled as level 3, but I use parts of it in level 4/AP as well.
I asked the kids who was the student most likely to succeed in the class. They actually chose two, a boy and a girl named Mark and Kirsten. Then I asked them to pick a nice person in the class. They chose a girl named Mackenzie.
The kids have had fun with the story because it goes against type. The actors are super-students and seem destined for success in life, but in the story one of them is horribly depressed over a series of mistakes that derailed his plans. He becomes a listless bum on the street. The other student has the ability to go far and become fabulously wealthy because of her brain power and work ethic, but she decides to become a teacher and use her talent to help students. She winds up finding the other student on the street and tries to help him. We are not trying to make fun of depressed students – in fact, the compassion that the kids have injected into the story is heart-warming and encouraging. We are just trying to be outrageous and have fun while working on advanced Spanish grammar.
The only story line I had in my head was that a character had to have made a series of bad decisions, and then regret it. [edit. note: in 2005 at NTPRS in Kansas City I asked Joe Neilson point blank what went through his mind when starting a story. He responded that he thought about some kid who had a problem and who tried to fix it and failed or succeeded, echoing what Bryce said above about starting a story.]
The nice person is there to help him and to hear his sad story. We had done a similar story a couple of days before and the kids liked it. Since the class insisted on two characters, I had one help the other. The second student had also made some questionable decisions and tells her story too.
What follows [Bryce on AP 3] is the story as it stands after two days of asking, telling, re-asking, re-organizing, and summarizing with the class so far (we will add a bit more to explain Kirsten’s role tomorrow).
The story uses relatively simple vocabulary and sets up the use of complex grammar. “Shelter the vocabulary, but not the grammar” as Susie Gross says. Here is what we have come up with so far (I can send the Spanish translation if you would like for people to use as an extended reading):
In an upper level class the students do a lot more speaking. When things go right, the ideas are popping up all over the room and the teacher tends to become more of a moderator than a storyteller. A switch from disseminator of knowledge to facilitator; a “guide at the side” versus the traditional “sage on the stage”—just as they have been telling us in multiple in-service trainings over the years in my school district.
This is particularly obvious in an upper level class—the teacher sets the stage, but the students tend to generate more ideas and twists in the story line than in lower level classes—this makes sense because they have more language to work with and have more tools with which to express themselves. There are more nuances and things can get livelier.
I often find myself mainly asking questions and trying to understand how all of the different elements of the story tie together—reframing and re-wording it with slightly more complex expressions as the story progresses.
As with stories in level I and II, these upper level stories can quickly grow and become remarkably complex. We often have to abandon some good ideas, rabbit trails and sub plots in order to tie the entire narrative together into a meaningful whole. That is often the job of the teacher in this case—to keep on asking clarifying questions so that the overall story makes some sort of sense.
One thing I find fascinating is that the personalities and values of the students and teacher begin to emerge in the telling and re-telling of these tall tales in the upper levels. As we knead the dough of the class story together, some of our DNA rubs of off us and becomes part of the tale. In the most recent telling of the Mark and Kirsten story below, one might think that we are being cruel to the depressed.
It may look like we are being elitist towards those that don’t go to college. Those elements may be there, but deeper themes develop as well: dealing with life’s disappointments, caring for the downtrodden, taking responsibility for our actions and our duty to develop our gifts and talents also emerge. The silliness of the lower level story is still there, but an organic thoughtfulness also sprouts when we bend our minds and tongues towards building a story together.