The Old Job Was Never This Fun

It's been a good week, our second one reading The Hunger Games. The last three days were a little chaotic, but I was proud of myself for trying something new that I had read about in an article. I divided my classes into six groups and put them through rotations of reading, blogging, and small group discussion. A lot of the time, the reading groups take so long to settle down and start their audio that they can't finish an 18-minute chapter in 22 minutes. And the bloggers have been writing mostly one-sentence posts so far, or even sentence fragments. But some of the discussions have helped me remember why I dreamed of being an English teacher--in those magical moments when the "self-directed" groups are actually self directing, and I'm able supervise the discussion groups as per my lesson plan.

It's so fun to hear their thoughts, and to help them connect a really dramatic story to their own lives. It's also fun to ask them about the shocking parts that many of them somehow missed. For example, when I ask them why Katniss isn't embarrassed to be naked in front of the prep team, several pairs of eyes open wide. "What?? When was she naked?" [For the record, it's not an obscene book. I promise.]

"It doesn't pay to get off task," I answer. "You might miss the really good parts."

The best part of my day is when some of my lowest performers step up as discussion leaders, sharing some perceptive views, or when a painfully shy student finds her voice. If I ever get to meet Suzanne Collins, I just might give her a kiss.


Although two of my classes got on my last nerve with their rowdiness yesterday, so that I had to lay down the law and threaten them with the worksheet treatment, for the most part I was sorry to move the desks back into their usual horseshoe configuration this morning so that we could have a whole-group lesson on persuasion and logical fallacies. I rather expected them to complain about departing from the novel, but they were actually surprisingly engaged. It must have been my prayers at morning and lunch.

I opened with the statement that today they'd be learning what might be the most important content we will cover this year, something that goes way beyond reading, something they'll need to know for all their lives. About a third of them looked mildly interested.

Then I asked them to tell me what they knew about persuasion. They talked about convincing people to do something or to agree with you. I agreed heartily. Sliding a hand into my back pocket, I solemnly warned them that lots of people every day want to get into their wallets.

"What, they're going to steal our money?" one boy demanded.

"No, they're going to convince you to open your wallet and hand them your money... to buy stuff that you don't really need. How do they do that, exactly?"

I showed them a slide with the definition of a fallacy, and then I showed them a list of common logical fallacies: ad hominem, bandwagon, testimonials, loaded language, etc.

The only one they recognized was bandwagon, though most of them actually had that confused with testimonials. I was overjoyed that they remembered anything from sixth grade; it gave me hope that they might retain one or two of the lessons I've labored over this year.

We started with ad hominem, an argument directed against a person rather than the position they are maintaining. I confessed that I like this term just because I have such a hard time pronouncing it. For some reason, I can only say it if I'm looking at the word and can sound it out. Otherwise, it somehow comes out as honemun. I asked them to repeat the phrase, and they all said it quite smoothly... until I had them say it three times quickly. I laughed when I heard some of them stumbling. "Homina-homina-homina," they chorused. It was hard to get them to stop, but I just laughed instead of getting annoyed.

Next, I told them they'd just been hired as campaign managers, and they'd be helping their friend Bob get elected as student body president on our campus.

"How much does it pay?" asked one boy.

"Nothing. You're helping out a friend."

"We quit!" yelled a quarter of the class. And then I had to reel them in again. But I just laughed.

"Your job-"

I narrowed my eyes at a few pairs of talkers.

"...is to-"

I stepped between two more talkers.

"Okay, so imagine that you're going to design campaign posters for Bob, and you're going to use some of these fallacies we've been talking about, because you are not ethical people and you really want your friend to win. Right now I need you to type one sentence that you'd put on the posters. It needs to be an ad hominem attack. You're not going to describe Bob's qualifications. Instead, you're going to attack his opponent, Sally. You're going to insult her character and tell why she shouldn't be president."

The most industrious among them immediately started tapping the keys of their battered Chromebooks.

"Keep it clean," I hastened to add. "No cussing, and no sexual references. Oh, and no violence."

"Can I say Sally's a hooker?" asked Jared*.

"Um, no."

"How about saying she works on the street corner? Can I say that?"

"No. Think of something else."

I scanned the answers pouring in on Pear Deck™, one of our favorite programs for online discussion.

"Good, Maura*. What a creative insult," I called out. "Ethan*, that's a great campaign statement, but remember that you're focusing on attacking Bob's opponent, not on telling us why Bob's the best candidate... Yep, Julia*, that's a strong attack. Well done."

Some of the boys who never touch a pencil to a sheet of paper eagerly called out, "Read mine, miss!"

One of them totally cracked me up, though I didn't star his to share with the class: "Let's make America great again!"

"Very funny, Lorenzo*. Now write me a sentence attacking Sally's character."

After I'd previewed the answers, I projected selected responses on the big screen and read through the examples and non-examples. Seeing their classmates' comments featured on screen spurred on the procrastinators, and they begged me to read their answers, but I put them off. It takes a long time to preview up to 30 answers, so if you snooze, you lose.

Here are some of the most creative answers:

Julia* flushed with pleasure on her way out, when I leaned in to tell her that her ad hominem example was spot on.

Wow! Why can't I think up cut-downs like this? 

Greatness!

We are an 80% Hispanic campus, and many students have illegal immigrants in their families.
Let's just say they are not Trump fans.

On every other day but today, I continually admonish my kids to "Speak Life!" Clearly, they got a big kick out of being praised for making up insults. I just hope that engagement will translate into knowledge retention.

The next fallacy was the one they enjoyed most, but probably not for academic reasons. I first explained how testimonials work, by focusing on the endorsement of a celebrity or an expert, and then we watched two short commercials. In one, a girl says that her dentist recommended an electric toothbrush, one with round brush head like Oral B's. The kids had no trouble picking out the dentist as the expert.

But for about half the class, the other commercial may have led to some foggy thinking--which I suspect is just what the advertisers had in mind.

The commercial opens with Beyoncé sauntering up to a Pepsi machine while a young man looks on, mesmerized. She pops the tab, throws her head back, and takes a long swig, eyes closed in ecstasy. Then, she turns a dazzling smile on the paralyzed boy. I cruelly stopped the video at that point. "We've seen enough," I said.

After the hubbub died down, I asked, "Have you ever heard the saying, 'Sex sells'?"

Yes, a few of them had. "Sex really does sell, doesn't it? Keep your eyes open for the next few days, and you'll see sexy girls selling all kinds of products.... So what do you think was the message of this commercial?"

"You should drink Pepsi!" said one girl.

"Pretty people drink Pepsi," added a boy.

"Yes! You're both right," I said. "Now, try to think objectively. Did this commercial make a lot of sense?"

All I got was a spattering of outbursts extolling Beyoncé's hotness.

"Okay, so it worked. But be honest. What on earth does Beyoncé have to do with why you should drink Pepsi? Is she an expert?"

"She's hot," a few boys repeated.

"Yes, she's hot. But just because she likes Pepsi, does that mean you will?"

"No," a few kids finally admitted.

"Why do commercials like this work? What do they want you to believe?"

After a few moments of silence, one girl gave a tentative answer. "That you can be sexy too?"

"Yes!" I said. "It's not that you'll consciously think, 'If Beyoncé is sexy and she likes Pepsi, I will be sexy if I like Pepsi.' But maybe, subconsciously, you will think that. These advertisers hope that if you're a young woman--or a 47-year-old woman like me--maybe you will think that Pepsi can make you sexy. Or maybe you'll think drinking Pepsi will cause sexy girls like Beyoncé to like you."

I stretched out my arms, like a circus announcer. "Now watch this! It's going to be funny... Let's see if it really works."

With one hand on my hip and my chest just slightly jutted out, I threw my head back, closed my eyes, and took a long draft of my imaginary Pepsi. Then, with a flourish of my short hair, I turned toward the class and gave my best semblance of a sultry smile.

Crappy re-enactment, circa 7 PM;
The full bottle required two hands

The class was almost as mesmerized as the boy in the commercial, only their expressions were a mixture of horror and suppressed laughter.

"So, did it work? Can Pepsi make you sexy?"

They laughed uproariously. "Well, it cain't give you a booty," said one boy. There were only two minutes left in the period, so I turned a deaf ear and skipped the usual whispered warning against sexual harassment.

"No, Pepsi can't make you sexy," I concluded, "and neither does any of the other stuff they're trying to sell you. I want you to pay attention to the messages you're hearing. Look for the fallacies. Don't let them into your wallet."

The bell sounded, and they all stampeded to the door. "Have a good weekend!" I called after them.

After five periods of remarkably engaged classes, I went home with a spring in my step.

I laughed through a good portion of my 50-minute commute home, as I mentally composed my blog entry. When I got home, I texted my dear friend Ana to see if they had any Pepsi.

Without asking about my bizarre and random craving, she replied:

Let me ck...
We never buy soda but Eddie bought one last night with the pizza...
Omg we have some!!! Wow

I replied,

Yay! Can you take my picture with it?

To which she answered,

Carter is on his way...
Oh lol ok he can take it

Mere moments later, her high school aged son knocked on the door and held out a 2-liter bottle.

I opened the storm door and motioned him in. "I don't want to drink any," I explained. "I just need you to take a picture of me with it."

He smiled politely. "Um, okay."

"It's for a blog entry," I mumbled. "About something that happened at school today. I want to look like Beyoncé."

"Yeah," he said.

As soon as I could stifle my giggles, I posed with the giant bottle held to my lips. We looked at the first picture and decided to try a different angle.

"I think that one's much better," Carter said.

"Yes," I agreed.

"So... have a nice evening," he said.

"You, too," I said.

Man, I love my neighbors! I can ask them for absolutely anything, and they will help me with it.

And I'm happy to say, I love my job too. I never had anywhere near this much fun on my old job. I think I'll stick around.

*Names changed to protect privacy.

P.S. Next week we will look at examples of propaganda in The Hunger Games, and then they will make their own propaganda/persuasive posters in support of various positions, such as convincing Capitol citizens not to watch the Hunger Games.