Campus Voices
Middle School
In the first few weeks of the school year, I did a lesson with my seventh graders on the use of vivid language. I asked them, “How do you bring characters alive? A scene? A moment?” For the writing exercise, I wrote a terrible little story called “Tom’s Tuna Fish.” It was about a man named Tom who ate the same tuna fish sandwich from his corner deli every Saturday afternoon. The sandwich was something Tom looked forward to all week. One Saturday Tom arrived at the deli and they were out of tuna. So he ordered roast beef, and, boom, Tom got a whole new outlook on life. “This,” I said, “is an awful story. You need to try to make it better using vivid language. This writing is dull and uninteresting. How can you make this terrible writing better?!”
The class was certainly up for the creative challenge, and we worked on different techniques to make the language more vivid. We talked about incorporating stronger verbs, figurative language, sentence variety, and a range of styles of imagery. Many students, in their attempts to be literary, employed metaphor, often with funny results. One boy compared the glowing sun during Tom’s walk to his deli, to the slice of provolone he would get in his sandwich. One girl skillfully played up the senses. She described the familiar smell of Tom’s block as he passed a bakery, the familiar faces of his neighborhood. She truly did bring Tom alive.
Having moved back to New England after six years in New York City, it is my senses that have recently brought me alive, or my memories alive, of my school years as a middle school student in Lincoln, Mass., and then to BB&N for high school. Coaching soccer this fall, I am reminded every day of when I was a 13-year-old soccer player. It is the smell of leaves and the feel of the sun while putting on my cleats that is so familiar. Last Friday there was the first Middle School dance of the year. On that afternoon I overheard a group of boys discussing the night’s event. Their excited chatter reminded me of those Friday afternoons before a dance when I would be filled with energy. I was always very careful about my outfits for these events. I clearly remember the feel of my thin gray argyle sweater (with maroon diamonds), and my new (glowing white) Nike sneakers.
Although I did not attend the Middle School, BB&N has always been a part of my life. My father has been an English Teacher at the Upper School, a place I graduated from in 1993, for more than 30 years. Being back in Cambridge, I am most excited by how much I am learning about teaching. The Middle School is filled with inspiring, energetic teachers who truly understand the challenges of enriching the lives of pre-teens. I am also reminded of how much I enjoy working with young people. There are frustrating moments every day, but those are not the ones I go home with. Instead, I take home the memory of the community and humor in my classroom.
I have always been a teacher who believes in the importance of humor. When used in the right way, it becomes a connection with my students. For example, my classes are filled with lingo…your book is your “biscuit,” an A is an ace, B a baker, C a hook, and the dehumidifier in my basement classroom (which often interrupts our discussions) is named Melvin. Last week, a girl who had been struggling to remember her book each day, and had failed (F is a flag) a recent RQ (Reading Quiz), passed me in the hallway, and said with a smile, “Mr. Rossiter, I’ll have my biscuit tomorrow, I promise, and I’ll score an ace on the RQ!” We both laughed. It sounded totally ridiculous, but I knew exactly what she was talking about.
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