Today's Session

[shedgcock1]

I am so excited about today's session discussing Trifles. I have been using hexagonal thinking in my classes, and I believe this play is an excellent opportunity to use this activity to develop a line of reasoning, understand complexity, and make thinking visual! I also think that a great paired text would be "The Story of an Hour." 

My goal is to have students not only dig deeper into understanding the work, but to discover the patterns within a work (finding the ambiguity and tension) that lends to stronger claims. Hexagonal thinking truly draws out great conversations. The challenge in writing is always finding a starting point, and this activity launches the students into areas of the work that they had not even considered! 

Hexagonal Thinking: A Colorful Tool for Discussion | Cult of Pedagogy

[LaurieS]

I'm going to look now to integrate hexagonal thinking into my teaching of "Trifles" which I am taking on due to this PLC.

As for tonight's meeting, I'm reflecting on the symbolism of "fences" themselves. I keep circling back to "Mending Wall" by Robert Frost and what fences keep in and what they keep out. The speaker of the poem contemplates the fences in terms of, "Why do they make good neighbors?" and "Before I built a wall/I'd ask to know/What I was walling in or walling out..." These are key lines that I reflect upon in my own life.  I think this is an excellent way to weave poetry into this unit and explore what fences mean in the play as well as in teens' lives.  Where do teens let people in? What do they build to keep others out? What are they shielding themselves from? What shape do their fences take?

I was also struck by a passage by the novel I'm reading now that Renee has shared, Klara and the Sun. Rick's mother, Miss Helen, who muses to Klara, "You can tear down a fence in a moment...Then put up another somewhere else...A land of fences is so temporary...Fences, what are they? Stage design."  Here, they are looked at as transitory and an unreal boundary.  In "Fences," Wilson obviously created them as something much more symbolic that has deep meaning for Rose and the building/not building has a significant impact on all characters and their perception of teach other.

These initial reactions and thoughts are perhaps something the rest of you can build upon. See you tonight!

[AshleyGlickman]

I completely agree that hexagonal thinking has been a wonderful tool to implement within the classroom.  I found the resources at https://nowsparkcreativity.com/about to be quite helpful when first starting out with hexagonal thinking.

[Beth4]

Three cheers for hexagonal thinking!! This and sketchnotes have invigorated my teaching the last several years! I can't wait to hear more tonight. So much despair on the news and in the world - participation in this group and teaching are bright spots! 

[ReneeTLC]

I'm telling you -- this PLC is working as it should!  Here I am following your links and Googling to find out about hexagonal thinking. I'm intrigued and looking forward to learning more this evening.  Renee 

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Since Beth raised the issue of despair in the daily news -- I'm going to post a couple of links that I've asked Robin to include in tonight's slides as well. Ukraine has special meaning for me because my husband worked there for nearly a decade starting in the mid 1990s. So, as you can imagine, we are hearing from friends and colleagues and watching every news report. Here are a few resources you might want to read for yourselves or share with your students.

Ilya Kaminsky is a contemorary Ukrainian-born poet whom many of you probably know. A day or two ago, Lit Hub republished an excerpt from his 2017 work:  "Words for War" (https://lithub.com/ilya-kaminsky-on-ukrainian-russian-and-the-language-of-war/?utm_source=Sailthru&u...

Today, Lit Hub had another article -- "On the Ukrainian Poets Who lived and Died Under Soviet Suppression"  (https://lithub.com/on-the-ukrainian-poets-who-lived-and-died-under-soviet-suppression/?utm_source=Sa...)

And the, of course, we have "Babi Yar" from another era:

Babi Yar
By Yevgeni Yevtushenko
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

No monuments stand over Babi Yar,　
A sudden drop sheer as a gross graveslab. 　
I am here terrified. 　
　　　　　　　　　Today I am 
As old as all the Jewish people are.　

Now it seems that I am 
　　　　　　　　　　an Israelite.
There I am wandering Ancient Egypt's lands, 　
And there I perish, pierced and crucified,　
And to this day bear nail-scars on my hands. 　
And Dreyfus too is　
　　　　　　　　me, 
　　　　　　　　　　there I have been
Sentenced, sold out 　
　　　　　　　　　by petty philistines.　
I am behind bars, 　
　　　　　　　　rounded up and battered,
I have been
　　　　　hounded, hunted, 
　　　　　　　　　　　slandered, spat on, 
And demoiselles dolled up in Brussels lace　
Shrieked as they poked their parasols in my face. 　
And now I am 　 
　　　　　　a boy in Białystok.
Blood runs across the floor. Blood on the wall. 　
The bar-room rabble-rousers run amok   　
Reeking of onion and hard alcohol.　
Boots kick my body aside, helpless. Head gushing,　
I plead in vain with thugs of the pogrom　
To hoots of     　
　　　　　　"Smash the **bleep**ing kikes! Save Russia!" 
And some grain-seller beats and rapes my mom. 　　
My People! Russian nation! 　
　　　　　　　　　　　I know, 
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　you
Are internationalist at the core,　　
But men with filthy hands too often boomed　
Your clean sweet name into a jingo roar. 　　
I know the good, the kindness of your land.  　
How vile it is    　
　　　　　that, with no pinch of scruple,
those pompous antisemites tried to brand   　
themselves a "Union of the Russian People." 　
It seems that what I am is 　
　　　　　　　　　　　Anne Frank 
Transparent 　
　　　　　　as a fragile April branch.
And I love. 
　　　　　And I need no puffy phrase.
I need for us　
　　　　　to meet each other's gaze. 
So little we can see or smell, 　
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　we who
Have been denied the sky, 　
　　　　　　　　　　　denied the leaves. 
But we can do so much: 
　　　　　　　　　　to tenderly
Embrace each other in a darkened room. 　
"They're coming!" 　
　　　　　　"Don't be scared. 　
　　　　　　　　　　　　　That's just the clamor
of early spring. 
　　　　　　　　　It is spring coming here! 　
Come here. 　
　　　　　Give me a kiss, quick."
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　"Are they ramming
The door?" 　
　　　　　"Shhhh...no, that's cracking ice you hear." 

The wildgrass rustles over Babi Yar.　
Trees stare down stern, 　　
　　　　　　　　　judicial, 
　　　　　　　　　　　　cold as day. 
All things scream silent here. 　
　　　　　　　　　　　　Hat in my arm, 
I feel myself now 　
　　　　　　　slowly growing grey. 
 And I myself 　
　　　　　　am one all-out soundless scream 
For the thousand buried thousands in this char.　
I'm every old man　
　　 　 　 　 　 shot in this ravine,
I'm every baby 　 
　　　　　　burned in Babi Yar. 

No fiber in me 　
　　　　　　will forget this ever. 
Let the Internationale 　
　　　　　　　　　thunder forth
When we have buried, finally and forever,　
The final antisemite on this earth.　

There is no Jewish blood in me, it's true. 　
But with their callous ossified revulsion　
Antisemites must hate me like 　
　　　　　　　　　　　a Jew
And that is what makes me  　　
　　　　　　　　　a real Russian.