Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts

22 May 2008

Will you be my mommy? You smell like dead bunnies . . .

Random discussion before class begins
Quinci: So Boo-Boo is bigger than you, right?

Yogi: Yeah. My brother's a lot heavier. And taller. That's why everyone always says, "Hey! Boo-Boo can't be bigger than Yogi!"

During a class discussion of a review of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Me: So the first Indiana Jones movie came out in 1981.

Cheryl: Wow. That was a long time ago. How old were you? 16?

Me: You just got some extra points. No. I was 20.

Quinci: 20. Wow. My mother is younger than you.

Me: Hmmm. Yes. Well, anyway . . .

Guy: So you're . . .

Me: Yes. I'm dumb old. Wait. Should I say "mad old" instead?

Jamie: Yeah. "Mad old" sounds better.

Me: Okay. So. Back to the review . . .

Cheryl (interrupting): So was that Indiana Jones movie in black and white?


Another random discussion during the last two minutes of class
Cheryl (to Yogi): Does your house smell like curry?

Yogi:
What? Why?

Cheryl:
Guyanese people smell like curry.

Yogi: My house doesn't smell like curry.

Breenah: White people smell like spaghetti.

Cheryl: And when it rains, they smell like wet dogs.

Me: What? Wet dogs?

Yogi: I don't know about that.

Me: What??

Quinci: What do Pakistani people smell like?

Cheryl: Curry.

Yogi: Does everyone smell like curry?

Breenah: No. Black people smell like must.

Quinci: Hey! I don't smell like that.

Breenah: Well, just the boys, and if they don't shower.

Me: Wait a minute. I smell like wet dogs??

Yogi: No, you don't. Cheryl just thinks everyone smells like curry anyway.

Me: So why don't I smell like curry??

Cheryl: No, I mean, white people have pets, and when it rains, they smell like their . . .

Yogi (interrupting): Do you just look at people and see them as food? I bet you do.

Cheryl (laughing): No, I mean, maybe . . .

Yogi: See? It's true! She does!

Me: Wait. I smell like wet dogs? And spaghetti? Why can't I smell like curry?

Yogi:
No, Miss. You smell fine. But we'll say you smell like curry if you want us to.

13 May 2008

Me fail English? That's unpossible.

Mark: How long is this movie review supposed to be?

Me: I told you on the assignment sheet I gave you yesterday, and which is sitting on your desk right in front of you.

Mark: It's easier for you to tell me.

Me: No, it's actually not.

Jen: So we're writing about two movies? Comparing them?

Me: What? No. Look at the assignment sheet, which I distinctly remember going over in class yesterday and which you have in front of you. It says write about one movie that you choose.

Jen: So it does it have to be one we did in class?

Me (taking a deep breath): Any movie that you choose. It could be one we saw during class, or it could be one you saw on your own, in a theater or at home.

Jen: But I didn't see all of Stranger Than Fiction last week. I was absent, remember?

Me (taking a deeper breath): That's why the assignment can be about ANY movie you want to write about.

Anthony: I bet you're having us write about a movie because we didn't read the book you left when the sub was here and they all disappeared.

Me: That's a good guess, Anthony.

George: But Miss, five to seven paragraphs is mad long. I can't write that much.

Me: Don't worry about the length right now. Just get started on one point and get that part roughed out. Besides, paragraphs can be all different lengths . . .

George (interrupting): No, they're supposed to be three or four sentences long.

Me: Where did you learn that??

Kira: So how long is this supposed to be?

Me (head buried in hands, groaning audibly): Read the assignment sheet again, please.

George: Miss, why do you stress yourself about us? You should just let us take the easy way.

(Murmurs of agreement from other parts of the room.)

Me: Hmmm, let me think about that . . . . um . . . . no.

George: Miss, I'll be honest with you. I've just been doing the bare mininum this year.

Me: Thanks for making that clear.

01 March 2008

Grizzly Children of Men in America

All students assume that a teacher who shows a movie in class needs to have a break. In this case, students will respond predictably by ignoring the movie (that is, by sleeping or texting through it). Teachers who are wont to use movies as breaks from dealing with class expect this since their relaxation is the primary reason for the movie. They will show any movie they happen to have handy from The Lion King to Fried Green Tomatoes. This is especially common just before a vacation.

I will admit that I have spent the last three weeks showing three movies to my seniors. While I did not need a break from dealing with them as human beings, I did need a break from dealing with them as readers. For some reason, these seniors are some of the most reluctant readers I've dealt with in my 20 year career. So far this year we have painfully managed to complete Hamlet and Things Fall Apart (in addition to a research project in between). Aside from their seemingly random, too-rare flashes of interest, I come away from spending days, weeks dragging students through books frustrated, tired and depressed. Worse yet, I find it hard to remember why I liked the book so much in the first place. Therefore, I created a small film unit of three significant movies: Grizzly Man, Children of Men and In America. Each reinforces and elaborates on a very loose theme we've been following about how humans deal with their society.

When I began the unit, I had no real idea of how the kids would react to the movies. By nature a realist (pessimist??) I predicted they would tolerate the movies but not really like any of them. I thought they would find Grizzly Man too strange and slightly boring (it is a documentary, after all). I thought they would find Children of Men too difficult. I thought they would find In America too quiet and PG-13. Little did I know.

No book, no field trip, no classroom experience has achieved such consensus, and I have no idea why. While students had a favorite movie of the three, all students told me they liked each movie. No exceptions. They all liked each movie.

Even stranger to me is their response during certain parts of the movies. Some, I predicted. I knew, for instance, that In Grizzly Man, they would love the part where Timothy Treadwell, in his strangely high voice, curses the hat-stealing fox. That and where he curses out the National Park Service.

In Children of Men, I predicted they would enjoy the violence, as in the scene in the car towards the beginning. And they did. But the universal cries of despair at the seemingly unclear ending were a surprise.

I had no predictions for In America, however, except that I didn't think they'd like it. First, it's PG-13 whereas the other two are rated R. Second, it's a quiet movie, the most touching, two qualities my occasionally raucous 12th-graders usually seem to lack. Nevertheless, it was deemed the favorite movie of the three.

At various points during the movie, I could hear my otherwise tough, old-beyond-their-years students sniff and stifle their crying. Some actually went for the tissue box on my desk. They gasped in disbelief when the two little girls continued to pound on Mateo's door during their first Halloween experience. Most interesting to me, however, was the universal reaction during the arcade scene when Johnny bets the rent money in order to win an ET doll for his daughter. As if it were the most graphic, blood-spattered scene in a teen slasher movie, they sat, hands over their eyes, unable to watch the horror unfold. The whispers resonated in the room: "Oh, no, he's not going to do that!" "Stop! Just stop now!" "She don't care if you win the doll!" "Dang! No, no!"

They even appreciatively watched the bonus feature describing the making of the movie.

So where did this experience leave me? It left me dreading having to teach more books. It left me wondering why books can't elicit the same appreciation, the same satisfying feeling of an experience shared.

Nevertheless, reality kicked in yesterday during class discussions of the three movies, a debriefing of the experience, in preparation for writing about them. Despite my initial perception that all students liked all movies, the reality was that probably half of any class saw all of all three movies. But they liked the bits and pieces they saw, for sure. So it was sad, but no surprise, when I found myself overhearing small group discussions that attempted to fill in the lousy attendance gaps: "So, the guy in Children of Men, Timothy, right? He lived in New York City. He was in the junkie apartment and his son died. The woman in the boat named her baby after his son."

Oy.