Adventures in Teaching: Rx for Senioritis
Concluding the essay he began in the Summer 2008 issue of Uncommon Sense, Fox Lane AP history teacher Dennis Maika shares with us the challenges and rewards that carried him and the seniors to whom he introduced us in our last number through the rest of their memorable year.
High schoolers’ general lack of engagement with the conflict in Iraq continues to surprise me. This is not to say that they don’t respond to projects and readings that my colleagues and I have regularly assigned or to the discussions that we have conducted since hostilities began in 2003, but rather that on their own, they are just not that interested. Alex admitted that what he knows about Iraq comes solely from overhearing the news shows to which his grandmother listens. The only technique I’ve found that immediately focuses their attention on the war is having them read a copy of the Universal National Service Act introduced in Congress in 2003 by Senator Ernest Hollings [D-SC].1 And even this exercise fails to move them beyond matters of simple self-interest to a serious consideration of the issues—once the discussion stops, that’s it. Unless there is a compelling personal reason, Iraq will never become “their war” the way Vietnam came to define my draft-eligible generation. Nevertheless, I decided to take advantage of their sliver of curiosity and occasional wish to know more in building the next seminar project.
I elected to focus on the broad question of whether we can really compare the current situation in Iraq with Vietnam to give students experience in defining their own subjects. Addressing the basic query properly would require them to select relevant information from a considerable number of primary and secondary sources and give them experience in developing a traditional history paper. To model ways of framing a legitimate research topic I thought we should do the background reading required together. I began with Charles E. Neu’s general survey of the Vietnam War, a book that I knew would give them a solid overview of the war and allow them to practice critical reading skills; we would pay particular attention to the author’s interpretation.2 We started with the introduction, which most students typically ignore, thus missing immediate awareness of an author’s thesis. We read together Neu’s forward and preface, using a shorthand technique—a series of checks, dashes, stars, and exclamation points (for what I call “Aha! Moments” of revelation) to be made in pencil in the margins of the copy of the book each of them had purchased. To move them away from the tedium of note taking, keep them motivated, and help them develop a strategy for college that would allow them to avoid the tendency to highlight everything in the book, I also encouraged them to use the margins for observations and comments. I hoped this would also encourage them to begin to personalize a topic.
They read at a brisk pace—one twenty-page chapter each night—and in class discussion possible topics began toemerge: the presidential decision-making process, the role of presidential advisors, the political situation “on the ground,” military strategy, the global context for war, problems with“intelligence,” “secret wars,” and phases of the conflict. By the time we got to the fifth chapter, the students had already begun to define their topics and I interrupted the reading for a day to encourage them to look at various Web sites on the Iraq War to see if they found any data that might support a comparative investigation.3 They resumed reading Neu with whetted appetites. We quickened the pace and finished the book, and they felt ready to declare a tentative topic all within nine days.
At this point, we negotiated a new schedule. This had worked effectively in the past and, since they were entering a difficult time period—many had begun to prepare for Advanced Placement exams—I wanted to be sensitive to their other commitments. Surprisingly, preparation was not as much of a concern for them as I thought it would be, though they realized they would lose some research time during the days they were taking exams. I asked them to define the necessary tasks, and they immediately identified the need for a research guide, a final paper outline, a first draft, and a final, edited paper. Recalling the value of early discussions of the narratives, I suggested a written précis that reflected their preliminary thinking about their subject. I insisted on a clear demonstration of research; 25 percent of the grade would be based on notes that clearly showed relevance to topics in their research guide and included correct and complete citations. As we decided on weighting these different elements, they wanted more value assigned to the final product, which I interpreted as a sign of confidence in their writing process. Curiously, they agreed with my suggestion that penalties be imposed for lateness. They admitted they needed added prodding. Grades still seemed to be important to them.
The final research phase would require the use of scholarly sources—online journal articles and real books, a foreign concept since the advent of Google. Their evolving dependence on Google had been more than a matter of convenience, however. The biggest obstacle in conducting serious research for high school students was access to scholarly work, especially print sources. When I started this course, I had hoped to rely on several local colleges to allow my small number of students access to their libraries. My first experience with a local public university began promisingly. The library director was gracious enough to introduce my students to his online database subscriptions and print collections. He facilitated an orientation session, explained how to use online databases, and encouraged them to return to the library to use print sources. Several students in the first cohort actually did go back to the university, but this effort proved difficult to sustain. They didn’t have the time or the stamina to get a ride to the library (thirty minutes by car, impossible by public transportation). They needed to borrow the books to take home, a privilege the director could not extend and was clearly a lot for me to ask. I sought out the help of another local college with whom our district has a formal relationship—we support their student teacher program—hoping for a little quid pro quo. Unfortunately, the resources at this smaller, private college were already stretched too thin to be able to accommodate my students’ needs. It seemed as though collaboration between colleges and secondary schools in Westchester could only go so far.
Luckily, I found tremendous support from the library media specialists at Fox Lane High School. Though their funds were limited, Nancy and Tom were willing to allocate some of their annual budget to purchase books that I would need for this project. After reviewing the literature on Vietnam one summer, I presented them with a considerable list of sources that they acquired for our library. Together, we regularly tapped the steady stream of books being published about the Iraq War: I made suggestions based on the reviews I was reading, and they continued to find important material that I had missed. Nancy and Tom also worked diligently, in a difficult budget environment, to secure access to several powerful humanities databases. My students now could use ProQuest, JSTOR, Project Muse, and the William and Mary Quarterly, all available in our library and at home.
With these scholarly resources now available, my students were able to refine their research skills. With potential answers to their questions at their fingertips, they found and extracted information that related to topics in their research guides and were able to see clearly how to integrate data from a variety of sources into coherent support for their argument. Throughout this process, they consistently revised their theses and transformed their research guides into paper outlines. Having sources easily available did much to keep their interest alive and maintain momentum.
Of course, the experience was not evenly shared by all. A few students fell behind—some to laziness, one to illness—and either paid the penalties or renegotiated. Our individual consultations continued to be stimulating and fruitful, but it was clear that some were slowing the pace while others were working diligently. The Advanced Placement exam period interfered more than they thought it would. The testing period took the wind out of their sails as other teachers pressured them; they couldn’t be as casual about these exams as they thought they would be. One student was about to make the transition to our ASPIRE program—an internship that allows selected students to end their regular classes after AP exams. Katie D. had a promising and interesting topic, but her mind was elsewhere. We negotiated a special separation agreement, and she was gone.
All the first drafts were due on the same day to allow for peer editing. I asked them to develop a guide for editing—what should they look for? I sat in amazement as they immediately articulated all that I tried to teach them so far: clear comparisons, coherent structure, onsistency of argument, effective transition sentences, well-structured paragraphs, relevant evidence. This was the way they now spoke about writing and I praised them, sharing my happiness. Katie P. asked, “Are you proud of us?” I was, and they were proud of themselves too. They took a classmate’s paper home to edit and shared the results the next day.
Sadly, although they knew what to look for, their final drafts were not as well done as I had hoped. Their ideas were interesting, their research was more substantive, and some phrasing was excellent, but comparisons were unclear and some referencing was sloppy. Their journals reflected a similar ambivalence. Alex and April thought the topic was important and felt more informed in their opinions about both wars. Katie P. and Lauren were happy with the way their research and writing skills had developed and felt more comfortable and confident. Pete was happy with his experience but found it difficult to stay focused. Arkady never submitted his journal.
I understood. It was now the second week in May. Their academic stamina was weakening as the weather improved, the AP exams ended, and senior trip and prom approached. We had stopped writing on the Wall of Sayings. Feeding off their mood, I regularly felt a tug at my own enthusiasm. I was not writing as much in my own journal and found the demands of my other four classes more distracting than usual. What kept me going were the moments of stimulating discussion, classroom highlights, and reports of positive experiences. And since they were still learning, I happily revised the final project.
Even though I had decided against a major research paper as a culminating project, I still wanted my students to have one more chance to “do history” before they graduated. The one element of historical research that they had yet to experience was working with a discrete and unique collection of documents. Since these were available, both in virtual and actual form, I could offer them a little taste of the thrill of discovery and revelation that I always enjoyed in my own research. My eye was also on the end of the year. I had four solid weeks left, but I knew there would be a variety of interruptions in the school calendar, not to mention my concern about the students’ slide down the slope of senior slump.
Our culminating project had four different elements. First, students had to find a document collection that interested them. I offered a variety of suggestions for online sources and told them of their chance to visit a local archive that would allow them to use collections they could actually touch. The next step was to research the collection. I tried to amuse and distract them by describing it differently. Drawing on the many pre-prom discussions that were taking place, I asked them to spend time with the collection, to get to know it better. They would need to spend at least six to seven hours over several days to develop a relationship with the collection, to appreciate what it had to offer, and to recognize what they would not get. They would record their experiences in daily journal entries (I resisted the temptation to call them diaries), looking for specifics such as the type and original purpose of the documents, the audience, unique information as well as repetitive data, anything subtle about the document’s tone or format, and any clues to the historical context or what was going on when the documents were created. Conclusions each day would lead them to the third task—developing a specific historical question that could be answered using their sources. For a final product, they could write an essay or create their own “virtual exhibit” for an imaginary museum.
I modeled the first three steps in class with a “trip” to the Westchester County Virtual Archives, a project developed by the Westchester County Archives and the Westchester County Historical Society.4 Together, we spent some time getting to know the Bronx River Parkway collection using the digital projector and large screen in my classroom. Most of them had driven on the road but were unaware of its historical significnce as the first parkway designed specifically for automobiles in the early twentieth entury. We went first to Historic Photographs—I thought they might recognize something—and made comments and observations. We then examined Engineering Drawings and got a quick overview of what was available in the Historic American Engineering Record, a report completed in 2001. As the class ended, we discussed our first impressions and raised some ideas about legitimate historical questions that might be answered using this collection. Overnight and the next day, students were to apply the same procedures to an online collection chosen from a list that I prepared for them. But as valuable and accessible as these virtual collections were, I knew they could have a more impressive experience by coming into actual physical contact with a real collection of documents. So I scheduled a visit to the Rockefeller Archive Center.
Field trip! This exclamation typically arises whenever a reference is made to something happening outside the classroom that students feel would be better appreciated with a day off from regular classes. For my seminar students, a field trip to a local archive would be a perfect stimulus at this point in the year. Since our class was scheduled for the last period of the day, there would be no conflict with other classes if I arranged for us to leave early and travel to the RAC, some thirty minutes away. We formed a convoy. With an eye to both safety and legal issues, the kids traveled with each other (parent permission slips were signed and submitted). I led the line at a safe and legal speed.
The RAC administration and staff have always been extraordinarily generous in supporting my program with their time and interest. Dr. Ken Rose, Assistant Director, arranged for several archivists to describe specific collections that might interest my students and offered several samples of what they might find. The fascinating documents opened up a world of intriguing possibilities that students could explore. We were then taken on a tour of the RAC, joined at one point by Director Darwin Stapleton, who answered students’ questions about items on display in the room that re-created John D. Rockefeller, Jr.’s, downtown office. In the archive vaults, students got a chance to peek into some files to see the real thing. They were impressed and interested but ready to leave after two hours. I did, after all, impose on their personal time after school, and it was a long ride home for some of them. I was hopeful that a few would want to return. Three students from the previous year made regular visits to the RAC, doing research on the War of the Worlds broadcast, African Americans and the National Leisure Movement, and Rockefeller’s support for the Alcoholics Anonymous program. I was hoping for a similar response.
Only Alex decided to go back to the RAC. He was fascinated by the collection relating to Nelson Rockefeller’s leadership on the commission appointed by President Ford to investigate CIA activities within the United States. The rest of the class chose online collections. Kate P. and Arkady went to the Valley of the Shadow exhibit. At the Library of Congress, Frank, a musician, found a collection of Civil War bands, while April was interested in African American Blues and Gospel music from the Fort Valley Music Festival in the 1940s. Pete spent time with the National Archives exhibit on the influenza epidemic of 1918, and Lauren pursued her interest in Woodrow Wilson, finding a collection of his wartime speeches.
Again, they surprised me with their interest and effort. Writing in their journals, becoming familiar with their collections, talking about what they found—they were getting into it. The trajectory of senior slump did not appear to be as drastic as I had anticipated. Some were distracted, to be sure, and the degree of effort varied somewhat, but they remained committed to their projects. The fact that they found their topics interesting was a prime factor, but I also knew that they felt a personal obligation to me. It helped for them to see that I was still enthusiastic (I never let them see my moments of doubt) and, as trite as it may sound, I felt we had bonded over the past few months, developing a relationship that I cherished.
They finished their projects with flair, clearly comfortable using the processes we had developed and that they now employed reflexively. Although for some this was not their best work, I realized something even more important had happened: they had reached a fuller understanding of themselves—of their strengths and weaknesses in completing academic work and of the way they worked as writers. Self awareness was their greatest accomplishment.
We had extra time scheduled for our final class session so we decided to have lunch. We ordered pizza and, as we ate, debriefed about the final projects and the course. Nothing new was revealed. It had all been said. We talked about their summer plans, and they asked about mine. They liked the idea that I had my own research projects in mind but were not surprised. I talked more about my work than I expected, but they seemed happy listening to me. I would like to think they had a new understanding for what I was describing. I also told them I would be writing about our experience together, but they knew this already. They asked what I would say. I said I was still in the preliminary writing stage but gave them a few possible scenarios. They seemed satisfied (or just tired), trusting my interpretation of the story and making no final pleas or comments.
Before they left, I asked them to sign our Wall of Sayings. The paper had lain relatively untouched for weeks. They all wrote their full names at the bottom of the page, formally, Declaration of Independence style. Frank included a middle initial I had never seen before. Lauren found a short phrase that had been written in small letters at some random moment that we all forgot and decided to enlarge it. “You are you,” it said, now much more visible and perhaps a fitting end to their adventure.
They have taught me something valuable about what second-semester seniors face—and have clarified my understanding of why finding an effective Rx for senioritis is such a challenge. I think I know what needs fixing and how I can refine the experience. But, as I look at the class list for next semester—almost twice as large with completely different people—I also realize that the most meaningful adjustments will come as I get to know the kids. They are, after all, what makes teaching such a unique adventure.
Dennis Maika, Fox Lane High School
Footnotes
1. See S89, “A bill to provide for the common defense by requiring that all young persons in the United States, including women, perform a period of military service or a period of civilian service in furtherance of the national defense and homeland security, and for other purposes,” introduced by Senator Ernest Hollings on Jan. 7, 2003, http://www.congress.gov/cgi-bin/bdquery/z?d108:S.89:
2. Charles E. Neu, America’s Lost War: Vietnam, 1945–1975 (Wheeling, Ill., 2005).
3. Especially useful were those prepared by PBS, the BBC, the Washington Post, and the Post-Gazette.
4. “Virtual Archives,” Westchester County Archives, Nov. 21, 2007, www.westchesterarchives.com/Home.html.
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