English can be a fascinating, yet frustrating language to study, whether you are a novice learner or a linguistic scholar. It can easily integrate words from other languages as it can produce its own unique neologisms. From its Germanic roots to its Latin influence to its internationalised amalgam, English is the wackiest linguistic stir fry, with a smattering of essentially everything. One consequence of this is a spelling and pronunciation nightmare for even native speakers. Forget the fight over American or British spelling (or Australian, Canadian, or any other variant). We can hardly agree on how to pronounce the word hough!

Highlighting the difficulty of using English orthography as a pronunciation guide, a Dutch doctor named Gerard Nolst Trenité wrote “The Chaos”, which is probably the best tongue-twister ever created. Trenité never really finished this monster of a poem, as he kept finding new words to include, and couplets that he continually revised. There are several versions, and the most common one you’ll find is an abridged version with the most popular stanzas. The one below is perhaps the most comprehensive version I’ve found. This poem is a great exercise for English speakers of any level, to see how well they can pronounce words they see on the page. Mind you, the version I have below follows UK spellings, so English speakers who’ve learnt AmE may find this a bit more challenging.

I’ve copied and pasted an unformatted version, and another version with some reading hints if you get stuck with some words. If you’re up for a bit of fun (or a bit of pain!), have a stab at it, and see how well you fare!

“The Chaos” by Gerard Nolst Trenité

Studying abroad to Japan opened up a whole new world of stationery for me. One of my finds was this fantastic little binder.

In the US, nearly all binders are made to hold US letter sized paper. However, Japan carries papers ranging in various International Standard Series, and I found that B5 was a perfect fit for me. It was large enough to write copious amounts of notes in, while avoiding the large amounts of white space that I often had when writing on letter or A4 sheets.

Kokuyo has a Campus series which they label as a Binder Notebook, which is fair, since it does act like a spiral notebook in some ways. The cover is made of semi-transparent polycarbonate plastic, and comes in several colours and designs. I bought the light blue version, which has the Campus name in large white letters running down the front. They’re recently updated the look of the binders, with bolder colours and a sharper design.

Kokuyo Japanese semi-B5 binder: stock image from Rakuten

The binder I have is the same one I bought in 2010.

My well-worn and well-used binder

As you can see, mine has been through some serious use. The plastic has quite a bit of wear now, but I think it’s a testament that I’m still using it two years later. I’ve shoved this thing down several bags across several countries, and the cover has held up very well. In comparison, most US binder covers are made of stiff cardboard, with a thin plastic covering around it. The edges where the plastic covering are sealed tend to break, or the cardboard becomes bent beyond repair.

Another great feature of these Kokuyo Campus binders are their rings. It’s a 26-ring binder with a slide mechanism to easily open and close the rings. It’s very smooth and quieter than the snapping rings we have on our American binders. The sliding mechanism is standard for most Japanese binders, and they do differ in terms of how well they are made. The rings and the sliding mechanism on the Campus binder are made of a hard, clear plastic with the rings easily matching up and the slider bar moving in a nearly parallel motion when the tab is pushed or pulled. I’ve put up a short demo so you can see how the sliding mechanism works.

In contrast, I had also bought an A4 Serla binder, which was much cheaper being only 100 Yen, and it shows. The rings are made of cheaper plastic, and the slider bar does not move in a parallel direction. Instead, only the end near the tab moves, leaving the other end still open. Additionally, the rings aren’t exactly even, causing papers to catch between the wedges. There are also higher quality slider binders, made of metal rings and tabs, for a premium. The Campus binders sit somewhere in the middle, with a reasonable price point.

The binder also comes with a plastic sheet protector to hold B5 paper, five tab dividers, and ten sheets of Kokuyo NO-836B filler paper, which has a 6mm rule. It was a great value when I bought it: the faded sticker on mine lists 405 Yen. Obviously, import markups will make this much more expensive if you’re not buying in Japan. But, for it’s portability and durability, I’d highly recommend getting this if you can. Kinokuniya in New York City sells it, as well as a few online vendors like JetPens.

The NJ ASK is the standardised assessment for New Jersey elementary schools. With the high stakes that go along with these tests, it’s natural for many parents, teachers, and students to become far more stressed than they need be. I was rather fatalistic about the whole thing: I taught my students what I could; now, it was up to them whether they would apply those skills and strategies come test day. But, the test won’t arrive until this coming Monday, so why waste the weekend fretting over it? To make sure we start our testing weeks at a good place, our school had an NJ ASK Pep Rally, just to encourage our kids to believe in themselves, that they’re ready to kick some testing “ask” (lame, I know).

The lighting in our Common Room is pretty bad to begin with, and they had kept the lights off even after the PowerPoint presentation was finished. I’d forgotten to bring my flash, and I was using an F/4 lens, so I really struggled to get decent shots. I just cranked the ISO up as high as I could and lowered the shutter speed to 1/60, knowing full well that I was going to get shaky, grainy shots. Still, I managed to get a few keepers, like the ones below.

Teachers show how it’s done!

Pride Cheerleaders take the stage

Yeah, Buddy!

I just got a job offer from the principal of a school I had applied to!

Considering how quickly I got the job (just two weeks of actual job hunting), I thought I’d share some of the things I did in hopes of helping some of you still seeking positions. One of the most important things in preparing for interviews and making an impression on your employers is your portfolio. If you’ve taken any education methods course, you’ll have heard of it, and maybe even compiled one before graduating. The teaching portfolio is essentially your teaching existence, labelled and bounded in a pretty leather binder. How you set up your portfolio helps set the tone you aim to create during the interview.

Most people are far more sensible than I am and would start their portfolio process with the content. The first thing I did was drive to Staples and ogle at the pretty folios and binder attachés. I could make a lame argument that I’m just applying the Backward Design theory, but honestly, I just wanted to go shopping. I chose a moderately priced leather padfolio with some extra folders and a built-in handle, so it looked more like a slim attaché case. That meant I didn’t need to bring a messenger bag or the like; I could just tow it along as it was.  I didn’t want a normal 3-ring view binder since it looked unprofessional, and even though I may be fussing about trivial matters, I feel that there are just so many variables present in an interview session that you never know what you’re being judged by. It doesn’t hurt to address aesthetics, and as the saying goes, “it’s all in the details.”

Anyway, now that I had my portfolio case, I had to get to the hard part and decide what to put in. Ultimately, my table of contents was as follows:

This is the sum of your very existence, labelled and bound

• CV/Résumé
• Educational Philosophy
• Praxis II Scores
• University Transcripts
• Copies of Recommendation Letters
• Copies of the NJ Core Curriculum Content Standards and the Common Core Standards
• 2 Lesson Plans
• Student Sample Overview with Samples
• Professional Development Proofs
• Classroom Observation Reports
• Abstracts of pertinent research in education

The first five items are copies to give to the interviewer, so I made sure to have 3 sets of each. It’s best to have them all at the beginning so you can just hand them out right away, instead of flipping about your portfolio and coming off as disorganised. The length of one’s résumé is debatable, but if you already scored an interview, I’d suggest including a longer one. You’ll give the interviewer more information about you, and some of the details can be used as good conversation points. For example, in my extended résumé, which ran three pages, I listed my study abroad, my workshops on ELLs and students with disabilities. Since I don’t have a Sp.Ed. certification, I think mentioning those workshops gave me an edge. If you’re in uni, see if your campus has an Office catering to students with disabilities. They often host presentations and workshops that you can attend, and some of the information can be useful in an elementary or secondary classroom setting, considering the push for integrated classrooms and differentiated learning.

I also included copies of educational standards, to show that I was familiar with them. These standards are what schools are assessed on, so depending on your state, brush on on whether they’re adopting the Common Core Standards or have their own.

As for lesson plans I used a modified UBD lesson template to write my plans, and I chose lessons that showed how I incorporate technology, design student-centred activities, and levelled strategies for students. For student work, I chose samples that were in different stages of a lesson, from Do Now activities that accessed prior knowledge to final drafts of a research project. Having an arc is better than choosing unrelated samples, since it allows you to better walk your interviewers through your lessons.

Lastly, I included observation reports written by my cooperating teacher and my university supervisor, which give interviewers another impression on how I run a classroom. Since I had some some work on linguistic applications in urban education, the abstracts were just another potential conversation piece.

Interviewing can be a cold, chilling process

There’s no doubt that times are hard, especially for teachers. If you’re an educator and have not been keeping up with current affairs, best to mosey on to any paper’s site and browse through their education section. With all the debates regarding data, merit-pay, and contracts, the field of education has become far more complicated than simply having a desire to be in a classroom and “make a difference.” New Jersey is broke and cannot sustain the current pension system in place. For better or worse,  a good number of veteran teachers have decided to retire before the new laws diminish their monthly returns. That means for new teachers, there are now more openings than there have been in recent years.

As a recent graduate, I was anxious having to compete with more experienced teachers, and even with all the shiny details I used to puff my CV, I couldn’t help but feel woefully inadequate. I also don’t interview well, becoming shaky and more soft-spoken than I normally am. But needs must, and I’ve stepped up my job hunt with greater zeal. While regularly scouring the local papers (the Sunday Classifieds are the best), recently I also paid a subscription to NJHire. The site allows free members to see excerpts of new education job postings, (many of which may not show up in the papers until it’s too late), while premium members can see the whole post and apply directly through the site. Since my current methods haven’t successful, I thought the investment was worth it. So, ruining my credit score even more, I charged the fee on my card and began browsing. I liked the fact that I could apply the moment a new posting was up, because some schools only interview or accept the first few applicants, ignoring the rest once a suitable hire is found.

Since I’m a horrible driver, and my old, fat Camry isn’t so good for long distances, I was thankful that more than a few openings were nearby. Since I haven’t heard back from Bayonne, I applied to every Language Arts position within an hour’s drive from my home. For new teachers who send applications en masse, keep track of school numbers, and always give your mobile as your primary contact number. The first advice is to save you some embarrassment; if the person is nice, he’ll say what district he’s from, but others just go right on and you have to play along like you know. The second advice is to take the opportunity right when it offers itself. Some like giving home numbers because they can reply to the voicemail on their own terms; however, answering right away allows you an extra chance to impress the person on the line (provided you can quickly compose yourself).

Of course, the bad side of giving your mobile is being called at any time, and my luck often had me answering calls at the worst times. One was when I was in the parking garage, and I walked right into a spider web. I had another impromptu phone interview while celebrating my sister’s birthday in a Chinese buffet. The last was when I was outside with loud traffic whizzing by. Spitting and sputtering, muffled chewing and plate clanking, or cars racing and honking, none sound professional, attractive, or even pleasant. If you have more cajones than I do, you can ask to call back at a more appropriate time, but overall, I suggest being able to respond on the spot, as it highlights your flexibility and quick-thinking.

Anyway, I was surprised that one of those disastrous calls actually led to a call-back. I’m hopeful about this one, but my previous interviews have not been fruitful, and it’s best not to put all one’s egg into one basket. I’m revising cover letters to make them somewhat personal to each school, and I’m anticipating interview questions, like the favourite book one. I think I should reread Frankenstein so I have something actually useful to say about it.

On Monday I had a job interview in Bayonne, NJ. I had gotten a call instructing me to avoid the building that housed the Board of Education, and instead enter the high school itself, where the interviewer’s office was located. Needless to say, I made the every mistake the interviewer warned me about, parking in the east side of a building. I didn’t know until later that Bayonne High School was essentially a complex of six buildings, included their BoE. To make matters worse, I could not parallel park for the life of me. Luckily, one of the teachers had stepped outside and took pity on my pathetic driving skills, guiding me into a spot and pointing me to a door entrance. That entrance, however, was the Board of Education area, and a secretary kindly escorted me to where I was supposed to be.

I was ten minutes late for my interview, which is obviously a horrible first impression. The interviewer didn’t seem to mind, as he had his own issues regarding the broken air conditioner and some notes he had to prepare. He looked over my resume, which made me feel uncomfortable, as if I were naked, my entire value as a human being decided on my list of negligible experiences and carefully phrased descriptions. He was impressed with my high school’s reputation, as well as my being a Magna Cum Laude graduate.

He then proceeded to ask the usual interview questions: asking for me to describe my interests, to say how my experiences would help me as a teacher in his district, and of course: to tell my favourite book.

English majors are asked this question all the time, and honestly, I’m never prepared to answer it. If you’re an avid reader, you know how hard it is to choose an “all time favourite.” Each one has its own unique value, but the whole experience of reading and being transformed by it is more than the sum of its parts. I think a much better question is “what are you currently reading?” It avoids the painful act of discriminating our beloved reading collections while still offering equal, if different, insight about the responder.

As expected, I stumbled, and eventually recovered enough to sputter the first book that came to mind: Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. I’d done so much research on that in uni that I practically breathed its text for two years as an undergrad. I then fumbled over explaining its merits: its theme of human potential and moral dilemmas, its rich narrative structure, and the fact that it was written by a teenage girl.

He asked me a few more questions afterward, and I left the interview more relieved than happy. I don’t know if I really put my best foot forward, but it was a nice day out, and it was hard not to be positive.

Thomas O’Shaughnessy, my high-school English II teacher, died on Thursday, after two years of fighting colon cancer. I heard it through our high school’s Facebook page, which shows that social networks still serve some of their core purposes: to inform and to stay connected, rather than become detached and caught up in farming games and Bananagrams. Admittedly, it’s a bit strange to start journaling my life with this event, but for some reason it felt fitting in a Circle of Life sort of way: it is around the time of his death that my life as an educator is about to begin.

I graduated from uni past May, but even with the commencement and the celebrations, it still hadn’t felt real. Perhaps it was due to not having my diploma or transcripts (they were available for pick-up a few months later), or the fact that I hadn’t landed a teaching job. Granted, I only sought out one school (I didn’t make it past the first interview) and I just dropped off resumes in random boxes at one education fair.

With no job prospects, this summer felt like all the other ones during my undergraduate years, a sort of limbo in which my mind was free to mindlessly rot. Sleeping through the day, staying through the night, going out and playing games, this summer has been a very blissful, if unexamined, life. I kept a part-time tutoring position at my university, mostly to have money to pay off student loan interests, credit card bills, and for summer outings. Oh, and to still feel like I’m pursuing an educator’s path. Yeah…

But it’s now the end of July and there’s slightly more pressure for me to find a job. My tutoring gig ends after August 4th, and those bills are still coming. Plus, thing are financially tight in my family, and I’d like to help relieve some of my mother’s stress. So I’ve begun an earnest search for a teaching position, searching the classifieds and the various hiring portals. And as I’ve begun applying, those resumes I sent off months ago are finally catching some people’s attentions. I received two calls for job interviews, with one interview coming this Monday.

With a potential job so close in my grasp, the news of Mr. O’Shaughnessy’s death has been very affecting. Although I wasn’t particularly close to him–I don’t think I ever had any deep “personal” connections with my teachers–I still had this urge to reflect on what his passing means to me. I only had him for one class, and that was way back in freshman year, more than eight years ago! But there are things about him I remember clearly:

He had this way of gesturing that was so elegant, as if he were sliding knowledge from them and into our minds. He also had this low, sly chuckle whenever he began talking about something juicy, like the devilish Cassius in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar or the ironic moments in Fahrenheit 451. And, of course, there was his trademark phrase: “And so on and so forth.” I don’t think anyone else could use it so smoothly as he could, allowing his words to linger and waft, a gentle reminder that there are no definites in the discourse of learning.

He was also a traditionalist as far as teaching philosophies went, relying more on his experience and focusing on core skills than keeping up with the latest methodologies. There was nothing wrong with his approach, as he possessed all the qualities of a top-notch educator, combining his amazing content knowledge with effective pedagogy. It also helped that our high school pooled some of the best and brightest in the city.

He had regular vocabulary exams quizzing our familiarity with parts of speech, definitions, and the various -onyms, using words from the NY Times or some literary essay from a magazine. Many of those words have become part of my everyday vocabulary, not only due to the energy I spent memorising them, but also because he had so carefully underlined the dozen or so words that they held some air of importance. Even now, I still have those articles carefully filed away, reading them once in a while to enjoy the myriad topics he presented to our young, arrogant minds, and to plan how I would use these resources in a classroom.

I also remember having to memorise soliloquies, song lyrics, and poems to recite in front of the class. I was a poor public speaker, and even now I’m somewhat reserved when it comes to standing in the spotlight (an incongruous trait for a teacher, I know). Once, when it was my turn to speak, I flubbed my lines so bad I just stopped half-way and resigned myself to a failing grade. Instead, Mr. O’Shaughnessy just casually told me to try again the next day, and went on with the class as usual. I was so grateful for being given a clean slate that I spent the night memorising an even harder poem, Charlotte Bronte’s “Evening Solace,” and recited it flawlessly the next day. Mr. O’Shaughnessy had a face of surprise and amusement, and hearing his rumbling chuckle after telling me “Good job” gave me so much comfort that I didn’t even care about the grade. And, if I dare suggest, I don’t think he did either. That exercise was more than just a memory test or a letter to put in his book; it was a lesson in passion and commitment, in failing and trying again, a lesson in the true spirit of learning.

Memorisation is no longer “in” if you read most contemporary education methods. I think it’s a shame. Kids today may rejoice in avoiding such a strenuous task, but they also miss out in forging connections with literature, bonds made only in a crucible of repeated attempts and failures, where these stories and words carve themselves into us. I may no longer be able to fully recite Bronte’s poem, but I can fall in love with every time I read any of those lines, where its woes but live in reverie.

And so, as my interview is set tomorrow, and as I prepare my responses to the usual interview questions, I pause to wonder what sort of teacher I want to be. I would give anything to be like O’Shaughnessy, or Delo, or Gibney, or Solberg, or any of the teachers that have made a real change in my life. O’Shaughnessy’s passing also cements my belief that I made the right career choice, that I’m picking up the baton he has passed. In the midst of all the debates about the value of teachers in our present society, I want to continue that tradition of excellence, of inspiring a love for language and learning, of meaningful experiences that are treasured years after, and so on and so forth…