February, February

The shortest month! A month of tremendous historic significance--from Black History Month to Lupercalia to Single's Awareness Day (oops) Valentines Day to Presidents Day to (how could we forget) GROUNDHOG DAY!

Yep. It's February.

February, for the sophys, is also Registration Time. You will be selecting your courses for next year in the coming weeks and we have already begun some significant conversations in class about this matter. Please keep your parental units well-informed about this, and choose wisely. Dr. McMillen's Reservation Report will have more information for you and your parents, and check the Boone website regularly for updates.

(Also, and not insignificantly--it looks like I'm going to be out of town every weekend this month, or most every weekend. E-mail access might be limited, so scholarship-letter-seekers and advice-requesters be warned.)

That said, let's get on with the learnin'!

Gifted English II: Second period HAS to take that quiz. Goodness. We keep missing it. . .

Both classes will review the format for a thesis statement today, just for giggles, and then do some pre-reading activities for Othello, Moor of Venice. Also, we need to talk about FCAT Explorer, which has been freshly updated with review materials in reading, science, and math.

AP Lit and Comp: Finish the questions for "Tintern Abbey," then launch headlong into all things Coleridge. The man was a GENIUS. Probably a bit of a pathological liar, too, but haven't you noticed that none of the writers we have encountered are, well, normal? To wit:

Keats--tubercular, poor, and sad. Shelley--angsty, atheistic, ran away with a 15-year-old idealist. Wordsworth--terrible, terrible teeth, and abandoned his French lover and their CHILD. Coleridge--opium addict, insomniac, incurable Romantic. And these are our role models. Oy, vey. And don't forget Blake, who was most likely suffering from some paranoid delusions all his life.

Coleridge, though. . .I have a soft spot in my heart for the fellow, since he was so very smart and so very willing to share said smarts with the world. Here are some choice Coleridge quotes to contemplate on a brisk February day:

• A man may devote himself to death and destruction to save a nation; but no nation will devote itself to death and destruction to save mankind.
• A man's as old as he's feeling. A woman as old as she looks.
• A man's desire is for the woman, but the woman's desire is rarely other than for the desire of the man.
• A mother is a mother still, The holiest thing alive.
• A poet ought not to pick nature's pocket. Let him borrow, and so borrow as to repay by the very act of borrowing. Examine nature accurately, but write from recollection, and trust more to the imagination than the memory.
• Advice is like snow - the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper in sinks into the mind.
• Alas! they had been friends in youth; but whispering tongues can poison truth.
• All sympathy not consistent with acknowledged virtue is but disguised selfishness.
• All thoughts, all passions, all delights Whatever stirs this mortal frame All are but ministers of Love And feed His sacred flame.
• And though thou notest from thy safe recess old friends burn dim, like lamps in noisome air love them for what they are; nor love them less, because to thee they are not what they were.
• As I live and am a man, this is an unexaggerated tale - my dreams become the substances of my life.

And now, from William Wordsworth

"Tintern Abbey"

FIVE years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft inland murmur. -- Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view
These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!
With some uncertain notice, as might seem
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire
The Hermit sits alone.

These beauteous forms,

Through a long absence, have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;
And passing even into my purer mind,
With tranquil restoration: -- feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered, acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened: -- that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on, --
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.

If this

Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft --
In darkness and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart --
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,
How often has my spirit turned to thee!
And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,
With many recognitions dim and faint,
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
The picture of the mind revives again:
While here I stand, not only with the sense
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years. And so I dare to hope,
Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first
I came among these hills; when like a roe
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides
Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams,
Wherever nature led: more like a man
Flying from something that he dreads, than one
Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days,
And their glad animal movements all gone by)
To me was all in all. -- I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite; a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, nor any interest
Unborrowed from the eye. -- That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur, other gifts
Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompence. For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear, -- both what they half create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.

Nor perchance,

If I were not thus taught, should I the more
Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me here upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend,
My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while
May I behold in thee what I was once,
My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain-winds be free
To blow against thee: and, in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance --
If I should be where I no more can hear
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence -- wilt thou then forget
That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love -- oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

[Composed A Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey,

On Revisiting The Banks Of The Wye

During A Tour. July 13, 1798.]

Monday, January 31, 2011

The last day of January. . .wow!!!

Gifted English II: Grammar self-assessment; second period needs to take the vocab quiz; both groups need to go over the JC focus paper (rough draft due on Wednesday) and we need to prepare ourselves for the rigor and relevance of Othello.

AP Lit and Comp: "Tintern Abbey" and questions; Wordsworth's visual imagery; AP exam stuff.

Here's a picture of Tintern Abbey itself:

Friday, January 28, 2011

Another week, down!!! Wow!!!

Gifted English II: Vocabulary quiz related to JC, followed by a focus paper assignment and pre-writing. And then an amazing grammar self-assessment.

AP Lit and Comp: "Tintern Abbey" by Wordsworth after a pre-reading activity related to the content of the poem. 'Tis lovely.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Gifted English II: Act V, scene v of JC with visual stimuli AND the awesome, not-ready-for-prime-time JC Scavenger Hunt!!!

NOTE: Our next major literary event is Othello; we will be working primarily from a class set, but if you wish to acquire a copy of the No Fear: Shakespeare series, I just saw over 147 copies available on www.amazon.com for a little over a dollar each. New, they run around six bucks--a bargain at either price point. If you don't want the paraphrased assistance, at least download the play from a reputable source for homework. We will discuss this in class tomorrow.

AP Lit and Comp: "The Chimney Sweep" behind us, we will review Blake and practice two multiple choice sessions based on specific passages. BRING THE LIT BOOK TOMORROW.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Oh, Frabjous Day!!!

Gifted English II: Review Content Vocabulary for Friday's Amazing Quizlet, then finish Act V. Act V questions will be turned in TODAY unless you need extra time. Tomorrow--a weird little activity, and a class vote. And by "weird" I mean "academically weird," not "Weird Science" weird.

AP Lit and Comp: TP-CASTT of "The Chimney Sweep" and a brief introduction to Wordsworth. (Isn't that a cool name for a poet? WORDS and WORTH? I've been contemplating pseudonyms lately and I wish I could come up with something cool, like Natasha Myinkisrunningdry or Victoria M. Verisimilitude (M for Metaphor!) Never mind. I'll just be Anonymous.)

CELL PHONE ABUSERS: You are either staring into your lap with disproportionate wonder or leaving your handbag strategically on your desk. I know what you're doing. Your classmates know what you're doing. I plan to address this in class, AGAIN, but let's be clear: I know that in this day and age, one must surgically remove electronic devices from one's audience. Teachers are bad about this, too, in meetings and such,but I try diligently NOT to be so rude as to stare at a little glowy screen over the underpaid educator earnestly trying to tell me something. Thus, I expect the same from you. Surely you have a student assistant period or a lunch break or, oh, I don't know, an AFTERNOON in which you can text yourself stupid, but please don't do it in my class when I am trying to teach you. School policy lets me take your expensive toy from you, and then your parental unit has to come to school to retrieve it and then you will have some 'splaining to do. Let's not be enemies, but let's be clear: I HATE CELL PHONES IN CLASSROOMS. I bought a device to prevent their use, but turns out that violated a federal law or something, so I have to rely on adolescent integrity. Oh, man. KEEP THE PHONE OUT OF SIGHT AND SET TO STUN AND WE WILL BE FINE. And keep your handbags off the desks and your eyes off of your laps; everyone will feel better about that last bit. It's just creepy.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Oh, the weather outside is frightful. . .

Gifted English II: Collect HW; watch Act IV; begin Act V. Acting!

AP Lit and Comp: More Blake; "London," "The Chimney Sweep," "A Poison Tree." I'll post detailed notes about Romanticism here for you in the next few days.

Sorry so short; had to supervise the drama rehearsal yesterday and stayed late, and the storm this afternoon has knocked me off my kilter. Back to normal tomorrow, n'est-ce pas?

Monday, January 24, 2011

ANNOUNCEMENTS

1. APees: Please bring your textbook to class this week, starting Tuesday. Yes, that big, expensive white thing I haven't asked you to use yet. Now is the time, grasshoppers. Now is the time.

2. APees again: If you would like to purchase your own copy of Frankenstein for annotation purposes, bring 2.50 to class by Tuesday, 1/25. I am rush-ordering them to have next week.

3. Service hours: I have a new sign-in log for NHS service hours, to clarify and simplify the process. If you help out in 313 or for Project X--Classified this term, be sure to sign the log. Protects you, protects me.

4. Sophys! Registration begins week after next, and Guidance is coming to Guide you! More information pending, and soon.

AP Lit and Comp: After we discuss the prompt from the Semester Exam and share a few terrific examples, we are transitioning into the Romanticism Unit. I have a handout for you to facilitate your note-taking, but plan to take notes today, and possibly tomorrow as well.

Gifted English II: After we pass back ALL the work from last term (you might want to save some in a file for next year. . .) we are going head-first into Act IV of Julius Caesar. You have HW tonight: six or seven questions on the act, so the more we do in class, the less HW you might have.

Welcome to the Third Quarter!

Some people have New Year resolutions; I have new semester resolutions. Hopefully you will experience the benefit of the Nicer, Kinder, Gentler Me in the upcoming weeks and months.

I do want to clarify one issue, however, and it isn't mine.

OCPS has formulated new Management Directives, which are rules ALL employees must follow with no exception. To paraphrase: No employee may contact any student about anything unrelated to an assignment or an extracurricular activity; no student may do the same; no texting between employees and students AT ALL unless they are related; no social networking. PLEASE be judicious when e-mailing me; I have tried to be completely accessible to you, especially during scholarship season, but the new rules say that you cannot contact me via gmail anymore. (I always liked using gmail because unlike our school's e-mail server, it had pretty much unlimited capacity for attachments and the like, and I wouldn't get shut down when a bunch of essays hit me at the same time. I'll have to come up with something, I guess.)

I have historically only added students to a limited view of my Facebook feed AFTER they graduate, and I will continue to do so, but I cannot even be ASKED by you before graduation to Twitter, Facebook, or the like. Also, in the past, I've been pretty open with my phone number, mainly for international travel and our service club, but now I will limit all contact to the school number. This is a sound policy, I think, but it is a reversal from a few years back when we were encouraged to be available to you. Unfortunately, some adults lack discretion and have made some illegal, unethical, and sad choices, so these are our new rules.

You can still reach me at jennifer.hilley@ocps.net, or at 407.893.7200, extension 4605. And, as always, I am around before school and during both lunch shifts in 313. But the days of e-mailing me a cool cartoon about Macbeth or asking if I saw Jeopardy! last night are over, at least for now.

(For the record, I have nothing scandalous on the net, nor ever will; in fact, I'm FB friends with some of your parents. But rules are rules and frankly I think this establishes some pretty clear boundaries in a world fraught with uncertainty and ever-changing technological access.)

To infinity and beyond!

January 10, 2011

Okay, so I got a little distracted last week (ten zillion kids needing recommendations, scholarship essays, drama galore, and editing finals) and failed UTTERLY to update this blog of mine. A thousand apologies from the mother ship! Here goes!!!

First, the semester exam schedule is available on the BHS website and is pretty definitive. You have no school next Monday, January 17, so the exams will run Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, with two exams on Tuesday and Wednesday and three on Thursday. Teachers will have school Friday to finish grades, but you have to make up any missing exams by January 24 OR THE GRADE CANNOT BE CHANGED. This is not a Boone thing but an OCPS thing due to our awesome new software. Plan ahead!!!!

Here is the tentative schedule for next week at Chez Hilley:

Monday, 1/10:

Gifted English II: Finish the compare/contrast for Julius Caesar; go over Acts I-III in visual form. Final Authors of the Day, too! Almost finished. . .

AP Lit and Comp: TS Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" and its connection to Hamlet. This one's a doozy, guys, but a necessary evil for the AP exam. Not to mention for life-long cultural literacy. . .

Tuesday, 1/11:

Gifted English II: Distribute graded work and exam review packets; more Julius Caesar analysis; collect questions for Acts II and III.

AP Lit and Comp: Analysis of Eliot and literary criticism (seven short pieces and your final writing assignment for the semester) and distribution of semester exam review packet.

Wednesday, 1/12-Friday, 1/14:

BOTH CLASSES: Comprehensive examination reviews in class and make-up work opportunities before grades are due.

NOTE: There will be scheduled study periods integrated into the exam schedule, so you can submit make-up work up until Thursday, 1/20/2011.