A Most Splendid Event

A few weeks ago, I had my students research the Louisiana Purchase using resources curated by PBS. They were then asked to write a persuasive essay explaining why the purchase was or was not a "most splendid event" as it was reported by some newspapers at the time. Research skills and persuasive writing are both important skills, and the kids dove into their research and essays with very little complaint given that the end of the school year feels well within reach.

In an era when teachers have to be wary of students opting to have AI generate an essay for them, my students stepped up and used their very own writing skills to complete my assignment. This was indeed, a most splendid event.

Here are two absolute gems of papers that were submitted by this year's eighth graders (presented with the authors' permission):

The Louisiana Purchase: A Comedy of Geopolitical Gains

In the annals of history, few events stand out quite like the most splendid Louisiana Purchase—a colossal real estate deal that would make even the savviest modern-day realtor blush. Picture this: It's 1803, and Napoleon Bonaparte, the French Emperor with a penchant for military conquests, decides he has some prime American real estate lying around. So, he offers it up to Thomas Jefferson, the American President at the time, like a yard sale bargain too good to refuse.

Jefferson, perhaps imagining himself as the next great land baron, jumps at the opportunity, sealing the deal for a mere $15 million. That’s less than the cost of some Hollywood celebrity mansions today! And just like that, the United States doubled in size, all thanks to a stroke of Napoleon’s pen and a hefty dose of manifest destiny.

Of course, not everyone was thrilled about this sudden expansion. Imagine being Spain, minding your own business in the New World, only to wake up and find out your neighbor just went on a shopping spree and bought half the continent. It's like waking up to find out your roommate sold your backyard to the neighbors for a pool.

But hey, who cares about hurt feelings when you've got acres upon acres of untamed wilderness ripe for exploration? Lewis and Clark must have felt like kids in a candy store, except instead of candy, they had uncharted territories and potential encounters with grizzly bears.

And let’s not forget about the diplomatic dance that ensued. France, realizing they were in a bit of a financial pickle (thanks, Napoleon), decided to cash out and focus on European affairs. Meanwhile, the United States, with its newfound land, could finally flex its muscles on the global stage, proving once and for all that they were a force to be reckoned with.

In the end, the Louisiana Purchase was more than just a real estate transaction—it was a comedy of errors, a tale of ambition, and a prime example of how history can sometimes be stranger than fiction. So, the next time you look at a map of the United States and marvel at its vastness, just remember: it all started with a French Emperor and an American dream.

The Louisiana Purchase:

A Whimsical Tale of Land, Liberty, and Laissez-Faire

The Grand Bargain

Once upon a time, in the mystical land of America, there existed a vast, untamed wilderness known as the Louisiana Territory. Thomas Jefferson, that wily wordsmith and third president of the United States, had a brilliant idea: “Why not buy this whole shebang from the French?” And so, with a twinkle in his eye and a quill in his hand, he penned a letter to Napoleon Bonaparte, the French emperor, saying, “Hey, buddy, how about selling us your backyard? We promise not to throw wild parties or leave empty wine bottles lying around.”

The Bargain Bin Bonanza

Napoleon, being a shrewd negotiator and lover of croissants, agreed to the deal. For a mere $15 million (which, in today’s currency, is roughly equivalent to a lifetime supply of artisanal cheese), the United States acquired a landmass so vast that even Lewis and Clark got lost. Imagine the scene: Jefferson doing a little victory dance in his powdered wig, shouting, “We’ve got swamps, we’ve got bayous, we’ve got alligators—what more could a country ask for?”

The Wild West (of the East)

But wait, there’s more! The Louisiana Purchase wasn’t just about snagging prime real estate; it was about expanding the American dream. Settlers flocked to the newly acquired lands like seagulls to a French fry stand. They built log cabins, planted corn, and traded beaver pelts like it was going out of style. Manifest Destiny was in full swing, and folks were itching to explore the uncharted wilderness. “Yeehaw!” they cried, riding their trusty oxen into the sunset.

Consequences Galore

Of course, every fairy tale has its twists. The Louisiana Purchase had consequences aplenty. First, the Native American tribes who called this land home weren’t exactly thrilled about the whole “property transfer” thing. They raised their bows and arrows, shouting, “This is our turf, pal!” But alas, their protests fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the sound of surveyors measuring plots for new Starbucks locations.

And then there was the matter of slavery. The Louisiana Territory was a hodgepodge of cultures, languages, and gumbo recipes. Some folks wanted to keep their slaves, while others said, “Let’s set 'em free and have a jambalaya party!” The debate raged on, like a crawfish boil with too much Tabasco.

A Land of Contradictions

In the end, the Louisiana Purchase was like a beignet—sweet, messy, and impossible to resist. It shaped America’s destiny, fueled westward expansion, and left a trail of powdered sugar in its wake. So next time you’re sipping a café au lait in the French Quarter, raise your cup to Jefferson, Napoleon, and the wild, wonderful tale of the Louisiana Purchase. And remember, dear reader, life is like a bayou: murky, mysterious, and full of surprises.

Coming across these essays in the mix of other very well written, but more traditional essays made my day. I literally laughed out loud as I read them, which was completely unexpected for an assignment that asked students to pick and defend an interpretation of an historical event. I really do love my job.

Constitutional Game Day

 When I was in eighth grade I studied the Constitution. I had to memorize the preamble and was told that anyone who got below a C on the end of unit Constitution Test would be required to retake it until they passed, or not graduate from eighth grade. I suppose I might be misremembering that last bit about not being promoted to high school, but I do know that I was fearful of that test. I just knew I would be retaking the test all spring. Thankfully, I squeaked by with a 70% and only had to take the test once.

Fast forward more than three decades, and I find myself teaching the Constitution to a new generation of young teens. Based on my own experience, I knew I did not want to give my students a high stakes test, but I also knew I wanted them to really understand how our government works. Yes, I know they will get U.S. History again as juniors in high school, but igniting civic engagement now can only help them come to a deeper understanding later, which is an important piece of becoming civically minded adults. (I come by my fierce Patriotism naturally - my grandfather on my mother's side was a career officer in the Army, and my father moved here from Peru at age 18. I have always known that I am blessed to have been born in the United States.)

I have taught U.S. History to fifth graders eleven times, and this is my fourth year teaching it to eighth graders. In past years I have had students write a report. I stand by the need for students to be able to express themselves in writing, but I am no longer a writing teacher and a history teacher. It's no longer a primary part of my job to ensure students can express themselves in writing. One year I let my fifth graders make me whatever they wanted to show what they learned about the Constitution. I vividly remember one student's "Liberty Tree" made out of wrapping paper tubes, construction paper, and lots of labels.

I considered that tactic again this year. My seventh graders make "knowledge products" to showcase their learning about the European Renaissance, so they are familiar with less structure in a final project. But this year I was running up against spring break. I wanted something that would be fun for them, easy for me to assess, and doable by everyone before the break started. And then it hit me:

So today was play-testing day. We had games based on CandyLand, Chutes and Ladders, Sorry, Solitaire, Uno, Memory, Risk, and D&D as well as several original games. There was even one text-based computer game. (Zork, anyone?) Every student was engaged playing games created by their classmates. It was LOUD. There was so much laughter and students complimenting each other in the ruckus. They were genuinely invested in the games, getting upset when they lost, cheering when they won, and asking for rematches. 

This is my new favorite form of summative assessment. Tomorrow is a half day, and my students will spend it in the church presenting the Stations of the Cross to the school community. Testing each other's educational games was a perfect way to spend our last class period together before heading into a well-deserved Easter Break.

Knack for Injury... I mean Teaching

 So, today I drummed on desks to get my students' attention. I drum hard when I do this, so as to be heard above the noise I'm trying to quiet. Somehow, today this resulted in a thumb injury. I even got an ice pack from the office. I'm really not sure how that happened, as the initial pain, which was instant, was on the side of my thumb, not anywhere near where my hands were making contact with the desk. Also, I've done this hundreds of times this school year... what made this time result in a full finger ache that had me ordering a thumb brace from Amazon to be delivered to school tomorrow?

Also today, my "good" knee started hurting. I fell on ice the first Friday of December 2022 and have been nursing a knee injury ever since. It is getting better, but by wearing a knee brace every day at school and using a cane or walking stick whenever I'm on stairs. However, today, the back of my other knee began hurting. By the time I got home, my "good" knee was wracked with stabbing pain in both the front and back with every step. I feel old. I may teach from a rolling chair tomorrow.

When I told my husband he said, "You have a knack for getting injured." Yes, I know.

But in other news, I had three interactions this week that were incredibly affirming. The first one started out with a student in my elective creative writing class creating a brand-new character and story outline only to turn in a final story that was a retelling of a recent popular movie. The student did a great job with the retelling, but I sent it back for resubmission since the assignment was to write a story based on the new character and story outline. Based on several recent factors in this student's life, I was asked via email over the weekend if the new story needed to be written or if assessment could be based on the character creation and outline. I agreed, saying "I don't want my creative writing class to be the reason xxxx learns to dislike writing." 

But the parent responded that a check on the student's progress found them chuckling over the new story and thoroughly enjoying completing the assignment. Teaching win!

I have been tutoring a fifth-grade student in writing for just over a month now. Today we worked for longer than our previous sessions, as a paper on one of the 13 colonies is due on Monday. Not only did this so-called reluctant writer work for a solid hour writing (with voice typing) and researching, the (long) checklist I wrote of things to accomplish in class or over the weekend before the paper is due was met with veiled enthusiasm. One of the best kind of teaching wins!

I also met this student's parent for the first time today, as we returned to the extended day program later than has been typical. The parent reported that this student came home from school one day recently excited that he had written MORE than was expected in class that day. I credit my "formula" for writing a proper paragraph that I perfected over the 11 years I taught fifth grade. Teaching win!

Finally, I literally had a parent stop me in the hallway this afternoon to thank me for watching out for her child. This is literally the best teaching win I could ask for.

I'm still in pain from my myriad of dumb injuries... but I can truly say it has been a phenomenal week. And it's only Tuesday. Does that mean I can take the rest of the week off to nurse my injuries?

Mid-Year Musings

 So this calendar year has been a nutty mix of health issues (mine, my parents, and my in-laws) and schedule full of disruptions. One of the disruptions was an amazingly fun assembly with our local Reptile Man. Eighth graders were initially upset that they were missing P.E. for the assembly, but while they were interacting with the animals, I heard, "This is awesome!" "I love this!" and other such exclamations.

Even though we've made it to the halfway point of the school year, I'm making in-roads into better relationship with my students. This year's group is a tough crowd, with an underdeveloped sense of respect and keen minds who like to debate and argue everything from school policies to assignment instructions. Little and not so little wearing behaviors happen throughout every day: 

• I put out a new set of pencils near the sharpener, and within one class period several are broken all over the floor.
• Students helped themselves to my prize candy stash often enough I stopped buying it this year.
• Instruction is marked by students talking over teachers in every class.
• Many feel like they do not need to follow basic classroom etiquette, like sitting in assigned seats or working with their assigned groups.
• They call each other names and make snide comments that they claim are jokes.
• Several students have no ability to code-switch and stop swearing or saying inappropriate things in front of teachers (calling each other "on the spectrum" or using the n-word for example).

But during the past six weeks, my eighth graders have been overheard saying things like, "Mrs. Conrow only gets mad at us when our class is being annoying." And, "You can tell Mrs. Conrow really cares about us."

Since January we have been working through our U.S. history unit titled "Fighting for Independence," where they learn about Thomas Paine, Common Sense, and the Declaration of Independence. 

As they study the Declaration, I have them write their own complaint letters, modeled after the Declaration. It's one of my favorite assignments. Most of the letters focus on school policies like our cell phone and uniform policies or complain about homework. There's a healthy sprinkling of sibling and family dynamics too. For example, one student this year wants to be allowed to eat after 8:30pm. This year, this validating gem was part of a handful of letters complaining about peers:

Also, if real problems in the school community exist, they often come to light so the school can begin addressing them. This year, we learned to watch a specific lunch table:

There is a reason I love this job. But I also know it's incredibly challenging. That's not going to change, so evidence that I'm making a difference is always welcome.