Winter & Language Play

This winter is manic-depressive. Manic, because of the mood swings between the springtime in early January turned blizzards by February, and depressive since the lack of sunshine gets to me and I end up with a mild case of Seasonal Affective Disorder. Hurrying along the damp black path, bundled up, cheeks flushed, I glanced up for once at the glaring white snow. To my left, the snowplows had been unrelentless with the mounds scraped up from the 80-some inches received this month. To my right, however, the snow was far less dramatic and almost inviting. I found myself imagining what it would be like to make a snow angel, before quickly dismissing the idea for two logical reasons: wet and cold. Yet that didn't keep me from pausing to pick up a small chunk. Suddenly my senses exploded in a way they hadn't all season: the tingling burn of the freezing snow on my warm skin, noticing the powdery layer dusted over a crusted center, watching the droplets form while other pieces floated to the ground with crumbs trailing behind me as I continued on my way, fondly remembering the days when playing with the snow was an unconscious impulse.


It was a shock, realizing that the world I lived in was very different than the world I actually interacted with. It has been snowing for weeks now, but to actually experience snow was a rare instance. Considering the norms that I've been socialized into since coming to Calvin (adults don't play, they have hobbies) it's not surprising that this trend towards the controlled, constructive and conceptual devalues the spontaneous, inefficient and detailed ways of learning. It's much easier to live in a world that observes snow from a distance, because it eliminates the chances of circumstances turning messy or inconvenient. Yet snow remains nothing but a concept to know about, not something to know. It's an entirely different scenario once you get out the sleds, spend an hour constructing forts and snowmen, and return indoors exhausted but satisfied.


As I consider my role as an educator and what kinds of learning environments I want to create for my students, I can see how teaching language can be a bit like an attitude towards winter. It's very easy to look at the English language from a distance: to read, to take notes and to write a persuasive essay arguing one thesis or another with the rules already given. It's an entirely different experience altogether to consider teaching students to play with language. It might be the same text as before, but with an alternative approach. Suddenly students aren't being given the rules; through experimentation they encounter ways to write that are more persuasive than others. If that's unpredictable, there are ways that teachers can allow students to get even messier. A grammar game suddenly allows students to observe and internalize patterns before the actual rules are articulated. Spending a class period on puns or 'Spoonerisms' can engage students and teach them about the stranger aspects of the English language while


During my teacher aiding with ESL middle schoolers, I came across a "Famous Words and Phrases" FunDeck that was illustrated with cartoons (appropriate for preteens) and included a small led light to reveal the answers. I introduced each card by showing the picture and the phrase (such as "Don't count your chickens before they hatch") and asked the students for their interpretations. Then, revealing the three options for the meaning, we took a class vote on which was correct before finding out the answer together. It was a hit with the students and it was rewarding to have them all actively engaged! It taught me a valuable lesson in finding ways to look at meanings in addition to decoding words and examining structures. I could have taught handed out a list of phrases and meanings and given a quiz the next day, but who really wants to assign more mediocre homework?


In the end, the choice is mine; I can choose to play with language just as I can choose to spend a little more time outside. It comes down to a willingness to get messy by finding creative ways of looking at the same material. It may also mean facing criticism for venturing into this unpredictable, uncharted territory. My hope is that I might inspire creativity and new ways of thinking among my students that might have not been there before; in setting arbitrary symbols and words aside in order to appreciate the very heart of language, which is ultimately the communication of meaning.


Betsy