How To Teach Walt Whitman To Kids Who Don't Like To Read

Have you ever sat down and tried to read Leaves of Grass? No offense to the Great Gray Poet, but it's a labor of love. A nice cold glass of wine and a verdant hillside help immensely.

Unfortunately, there is neither wine nor hillsides in an urban classroom.

But fear not! These handy tips will work even if your classroom isn't in Camden, which mine is.

ANNIE'S HANDY TIPS FOR GETTING THESE MODERN DAY TEENAGERS TO TAKE EVEN A MILD INTEREST IN WALT WHITMAN:

1. Show the bridge.

Ask them, what do you have to do to get a bridge this big named after you? Then tell them that this bridge is named for a poet. It floors them.

2. Be ready with a dollar amount for a first edition of Leaves of Grass. Actually the number is lower than I thought, but it's still a mighty, mighty sum. Tell the students to go home and look in their attic, they might have a copy under a floor board. (Well, this does work best in Camden. Might also work in Brooklyn.)

3. Show them this engraving from the first edition of Leaves of Grass.

... and explain how "proper poets" dressed in those days. Let them connect the dots to today's rappers.

4. Make good use of the trendy Volvo commercial from 2017.

5. Or this really good little confection!

6. Go for the easy poems, like "O Captain, My Captain" and "Miracles." News flash: Have you read "I Hear America Singing" lately? Most of those jobs have either gone belly up or have been outsourced.

7. Memorize some of the poems and speak them without notes while the students follow along reading. They love it when you get stuck or screw up and they have to prompt you.

Then, when you have those lil puppies hooked, fling harder poems at them for analysis. In a nice think-pair-share environment.

All the while, pray fervently that your last observation of the year will not happen during this lesson -- but be prepared for yet another lackluster mediocre score if it does.

This Annie Doesn't Want a Gun

Hi there, buckaroos! It's me, Anne Johnson, back from being president and safely in civilian life again!

I could have stayed at the White House forever, since it's so much more lavish than my own humble home, but after this latest horrible school shooting, I decided I was needed more at the Vo Tech. What, really, is more important than caring for our vulnerable teenagers?

New Jersey has some hella strict gun laws (another reason to love the Garden State), so I'm pretty doggone sure my school administrators aren't going to hand me a pistol and send me to the firing range. And that's a good thing, because I will quit my job if they start bringing guns into my school.

LIST OF JOBS ANNE WOULD DO RATHER THAN HAVE A GUN IN HER CLASSROOM

*Taco Bell drive-thru window, graveyard shift
*Goat judge (wish this paid better, it's a great job)
*Shrimp boat
*Wal-Mart ... yes. Wal-Mart cart collector
*Busting rocks with a sledgehammer
*Fox News focus group
*All natural mosquito eradicator
*Flagpole sitter
*Janitor, turnpike restrooms

If I couldn't find one of those compelling jobs, I would do anything that provided a meager paycheck. ANYTHING rather than having a gun in my hand in a classroom!

I'm not pretending to speak for all public school teachers here, but as for me and my classroom, we will follow the path of peace. No. Damn. Gun.

Ever.

Public School Teachers and Right To Work

Sounds like a boring topic, huh? I can see you stifling that yawn! But don't decamp for Dora the Explorer just yet, because you're in for an Anne rant. I'm rusty on ranting, but it came back today in full force.

You know what schools are? They are the spots that viruses of every kind choose for massive meet-ups. Every day, trillions of germs learn how to write paragraphs and reduce fractions. All while finding new hosts just sitting there waiting to fall ill!

This is one of the reasons why liberal states with strong unions provide decent health care to public school teachers. Mind you, I get a hefty chunk of change pulled from my envelope every pay period to partly cover my healthcare policy. But my policy is still generous. Thank you, thank you, thank you New Jersey Educational Association!

I say this because teachers in 28 states are laboring in "right to work" environments. "Right to work" (kind of like "right to life," huh?) has undercut collective bargaining rights and union clout, leading to lower salaries, and yes, higher insurance payments for teachers.

Teachers. Have you looked at a teacher's salary lately? Like, what we get paid to go sit all day among the frolicking viruses?

If you didn't see this story in the news, read it and WEEP.

Texas is a "right to work" state. But I'm not singling out Texas. This could happen in any "right to work" state.

First of all, I got a flu shot. It was free.

Second of all, if I did get the flu, my prescription of Tamiflu would cost $10.00, not $138. Therefore, I would be able to afford it. I wouldn't have to think twice.

Two children have been deprived of a mother. Probably two dozen second-graders must now deal with the trauma of having suddenly lost their teacher. (And which among those kids will feel guilty for maybe infecting her with the flu?) A loving husband has lost his wife.

Not because of the flu. No. Not because of the flu. This woman died because of RIGHT TO FUCKING WORK. I never heard of a teacher having to pay $138 for a prescription! That would NEVER happen in my state! I could be put on the most $$$$$$$$ medicine that is padding the pockets of the most venal Big Pharma executive, and my co-pay would be at most $20.

This nod to my performance of a difficult, tiring job in a germ-filled atmosphere is due to my union.

Right to work? Why don't we call it right to die?

Stay tuned for Supreme Court decisions that will bring right to die EVERYWHERE.

My heart goes out to this family, to the students and staff, and to all the public school teachers who have the misfortune of living in "right to work" states. Pay your dues, get your union card, and persuade all of your co-workers to do the same. This shit has got to stop.

Great Joy to Our City

I'm exceedingly pleased to be able to report that the Philadelphia Eagles have won their first Super Bowl.

As an essentially lazy person, I have most often cheered on the teams wherever I happened to live. My home since 1987 has been the Delaware Valley. Therefore, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, I've rooted for the Iggles. It's just easier, you know?

The last time the Eagles won a national championship, I was one year old. Alaska and Hawaii had only been states for a year. The game wasn't even called a Super Bowl. Oh sure, the Eagles have been in the Super Bowl a few times, but they never won it before. On Sunday night they looked so damn fine.

Sports are a great unifying force for communities. When a team does well, it bonds people. On Sunday my next door neighbor, all in her Eagles regalia, brought me dinner. I gave her and everyone at her party a set of green beads. At the moment of victory, all the doors on my block flew open, and everyone spilled into the street. We wisely didn't climb the light poles or stain the furniture, but we sang and cheered and lit a few sparklers. It made me feel young.

My students were happy as well, the boys especially. Today's lesson consisted of analyzing the Super Bowl commercials for their persuasive techniques. Put another way, we watched the best Super Bowl commercials in class. No one complained!

The city is throwing a parade for the Eagles on Thursday. I'm not going to that. I know, I know ... you're saying, "Anne. Get real. You're missing a parade?" Yes, I am. If I can't be in it, why go?

Congratulations, Philadelphia Eagles, on a great season! Anything that brings us all out of our houses on a cold winter night is a-okay with me.