Today we are Word-processing our argument essays. I was able to
get into the computer lab today and tomorrow for students to word-process their
personal argument drafts. I gave them a "rubric" of sorts with a
checklist and the parameters for grading, which are not too fancy but it just
reminds them that while we are going to submit these to a teen magazine, there
is some sort of grade connected to their work, and I do expect them to be
practicing the argument strategies and conventions we've been working on. I
word-processed, the essay I wrote/modeled in the "teacher-as-writer"
lessons I posted earlier. Tomorrow, I will talk to the students about the
changes I made just while typing -- adding and removing phrases and sentences.
I will also talk to them about how I made some discoveries as I wrote this that
I wanted to include in the conclusion. I color-coded the essay to show how I
see the organization of my essay. The first part is the lead that also
functions as an introduction to the issue that I am exploring; then, you see
the "they say," which is the larger conversation about parents that I
am entering followed by the "I say." The "I say," really
became quite narrative, but I think it still makes an argument for the
human-ness of my father because I have these stories. I debated how much to
tell, but I know from the daily lessons that the students appreciate how honest
I am getting with this, and the stories are really what interests the reader.
Nevertheless, I feel like the "I say," part makes a spectacle out of
my dad -- yet, it really was quite the spectacle. After the "I say,"
there is the counter-refutation paragraph followed by my conclusion.
I should say that it was hard for me to write this argument. There were a few times when I was near tears during class, and because we are reading poetry/songs in the reading class, the day I shared "Bridge Over Troubled Water" opened my eyes to how I wanted to approach the ending, which was quite a moment to share in front of the class. If you read Yagelski's Writing as a Way of Being, you might have some idea of how writing with the students, with other beings was special in and of itself.
I should say that it was hard for me to write this argument. There were a few times when I was near tears during class, and because we are reading poetry/songs in the reading class, the day I shared "Bridge Over Troubled Water" opened my eyes to how I wanted to approach the ending, which was quite a moment to share in front of the class. If you read Yagelski's Writing as a Way of Being, you might have some idea of how writing with the students, with other beings was special in and of itself.
I will post students samples next, but I can already tell that the
"They say" needs work, and, overall, students need help with
elaboration. I am requiring that these are two pages, double-spaced and typed, and
some have just one page and "don't have anything else to say." In the
conferences tomorrow, I am going to do some "over-the-shoulder"
reading and ask questions or show parts where they can add a "for
example" so that they can revise as they word-process. Of course, I would
have liked to do this in our conferences, but I was only able to conference
with a third of the class; most students did not get their draft done in time
for me to conference with them before today.
________________________________________________________________
Sarah Donovan
Period 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9,
January 9, 2012
Argument #1
It’s Time to Break Up with… Dad
It was about four years ago. I had not heard
from my dad in a while, which was not necessarily unusual, so I called him and
asked him to meet me for coffee the next morning. It was just a random Tuesday
in the summer, and because I am a teacher and he has been forever unemployed,
it was an easy plan. As we walked up to the counter, I
anticipated that he would slowly reach into his wallet, and that he
would not have enough to treat his daughter to coffee, but he did offer his
only dollar to play for his coffee, which was actually not enough. [CCSD151] I paid. A year before, we, my ten siblings and I, discovered he
was in serious debt and helped him apply for bankruptcy, so by now I had come
to terms with this turn in our relationship. Once he supported me, and now
it was my turn to support him. [CCSD152] That said, I was not prepared for what was about to happen in
our “coffee talk.” Conversation is tough with my father; he is a
thinker and slow to tell his story, but once he gets going, he can talk about
himself for hours. I started simply, “How are you?”
“Fair,”
he replied.
“Okay,
so,” and here is where I should have stopped, “what would make you better than
fair? Happy even?”
He
paused, and replied with a sarcastic laugh, “How much time have you got?”
“All
the time, Dad,” I really want to know what you make you happy?”
“You
know,” he said, “I’d trade any one of you to see one of my inventions driving
down the street.” Now, the “invention” he was referring to is one of several
vehicles he has designed and pitched to some of the most well-known carmakers,
and I know that my dad did not say this to hurt me, but I also know that his words
did two things: first, they cut through my heart like a knife, and second, they helped me understand that had
to rethink who this man was to me.
When
it comes to parents and children, some may argue that you have to love your
parents no matter what, that they love you no matter what. [CCSD153] These people would argue and truly believe that children should
always respect their parents, and they probably learned it from the
Commandment, “Honor thy father and mother.” I learned this rule, too, after
many years of CCD or the Catholic religion classes I took every Saturday since
I could walk. Of course, [CCSD154] this commandment has some value; children, as grownups, should
help sick parents because the parents cleaned up our vomit and brought us to
the doctor and gave us medicine and juice when we were sick. This is the
child’s opportunity to reciprocate by providing financial support if necessary
because many elderly have fixed incomes; we can drive our parents when their
sight or driving skills diminish; and we might even invite our parents to live
with us when they can no longer care for themselves (i.e., forgetting their
medicine, to bathe, or to even eat). By the way, I have done all these things
for my father.
On
the other hand, some may argue that parents raise their children to be
independent and there may even be some who argue that not all parents are good
and thus do not deserve respect from their children. In fact, there
are experts who would argue that children should actually distance themselves
from an abusive parent to protect themselves. If a parent is hurting
the child emotionally, physically, or even financially, psychologist might
suggest to a child to break up with that parent. When the child is young, DCFS,
the Department of Children and Family Services, would remove the child, but
what about an adult child? Who protects him or her? Now, I know that DCFS
exists to protect children who cannot protect themselves, but the question
still remains, how can an adult child protect themselves when they feel abused
(emotionally, physically, or financially) by a parent? Is it ever
okay to break up with your parent, and in my case, my dad?
Both sides of this argument are understandable;
however, I don’t think it has to be all or nothing. Returning to my story, it
was not long after that “coffee talk” that my father began a period of over
four years where he was in and out of the hospital because of heart problems.
It turns out, however, that his heart issue was very treatable. Just eight
months ago, I received an emergency phone call from my father – a day after I
brought him home from the hospital – and discovered a scene not unlike those
hoarder reality shows; he was, in fact, living in squalor, not taking his meds,
and not even eating much; I even learned that he had gone nearly a year without
paying his electric bill, which I discovered because he called me to pay the
bill that winter. I called my siblings and made a plan to move him
in with me until we could figure out what to do. He resisted, in complete
denial that there was anything wrong with how he was living. My dad fancied
himself “eccentric,” and was very proud that he was building a canoe in his
living room. Every step of the way, we uncovered new, hidden debt and a life
stuck in the pages of blueprints and car magazines piled floor to
ceiling. My father had lost all sense of “normalcy” so much so that
I found a pile of teeth that he had pulled out himself because he had so
neglected the basic day to day hygiene.
It
might seem clear to you that my father needed help, and my ten siblings agreed,
but it was not clear, and still is not clear, how to help. How do you be a
daughter to this father? Instead of “honor” or
“distance,” I had to choose something different. I had to see my father as a
man whose dreams did not come through and who really was an “eccentric” who had
no desire to be “normal.” His identity or who he think he is is all tied up in
this image of the man who builds a canoe in his living room – for ten
years. The last five years, my father’s health got so bad that he
could not work on this canoe, and so he was not able to live his “eccentric”
life. I think I get this now. I want to help him have the life he wants, and to
do that I need to help him stay healthy . Perhaps that means paying his bills
from time to time, bringing him meals and checking in on his apartment – even
cleaning it. I think in this way I am “honoring” the man who gave me life and
who was actually a teacher like me at one point. I think I am also distancing
myself from him emotionally as I no longer expect anything in return. He has
never said “I love you” because he does not know or understand it, and I think
I get that now, too.
My siblings are not of this mind, this mind of
accepting the man who is our father. My siblings, nine out of the ten, have
actually broken up with my dad. Some have written him letters saying that they
will no longer pay for his cell phone or car insurance; others have said that they will not visit him in the
hospital anymore because he is being irresponsible. Some have just said, though
only to me, that they don’t want to be in his life at all as they share stories about how
ungrateful he is or how he lacks compassion or how he has never even acknowledged his grandson. With a family this size, there are
histories that I cannot know, and so I accept whatever reason my siblings offer for wanting to break up with my dad. I
have my own history, my own memories. I remember when we would drive to the doctor’s office
listening to Simon and Garfunkel. I remember our talks about books and
teaching, and sometimes, yes sometimes even now, he will tell me a story about “little
Sarah,” and I see a glimpse of the father he once was. Thus[CCSD155] , while I understand my siblings’ points of view and I get the
arguments to “honor” or “distance” from a parent, I also see the possibilities in this larger issue of parent relationships; I see the possibility in re-imagining our relationships with our parents.
In the end, I see my dad as a human being –
yes, he is a flawed human being but a man who had dreams, nonetheless. I
argue that we can see our parents in a new way, that perhaps we have
to see them in a new way as we become adult children. When my father
told me that he would trade one of us, his children, for his invention to be realized,
I began to mourn the loss of my “father” and have since accepted the
fact that I am forever connected to this man, a man whom I still call
“Dad.” The father is gone, but the man still is.
“Hi,
Dad, how are you?”
“Fair.”
“What
will make you better than fair?”
“How
much time have you got?”
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