Saturday, March 6, 2010

Should it be this exciting??

In just a few minutes—yes, in fact, as soon as I hit ‘send’ and propel this blogisode out into cyber-space—it will be time to give my examination for the second term.

I forget when I started calling tests and exams, “celebrations of knowledge,” maybe 20 years ago I guess, but today it is a Celebration.

I love it when the exam writing is finished and the papers are copied and all I get to do is talk with students, help them figure out a few more things, and listen to them pontificate on the historical subjects.

I chose Saturday as my exam day months ago in large part of where I like to have exams at KA. I love the Dining Hall for the exam venue. And Saturday afternoon is the one time of the entire week when it is quiet and peaceful in the Dining Hall. Since I have 60 students in the AP Art History course I need a large space that accommodates them and makes for a secure testing environment. Some people choose the Lecture Hall, but, yeah, um, if you have sat in there you can see how easy it is to cheat there anyway. In the Dining Hall each student claims his/her own table; you get to spread out, and when the writing time comes you can hunker down, put your feet up on another chair, and create your own little isolated world where Clio, our beloved muse of History, can urge you on to greatness.

“The Big Dance,” the BIG AP test, is coming up in 67 days. Today I have constructed the exam to be the same length of time as the marathon test in May (3 hours and 5 minutes, and no, I don’t know why some test planner has made it 185 minutes instead of a rounded-off 3 hours) but it is only on the material from this term. This term we began with the paranoia and fever of Y1K (for those who remember the paranoia and fever of Y2K, well, well, well, it was remarkably similar—minus the TV cameras tracking the non-event—back in 1000 as in 2000) and the Bayeux Tapestry from Norman England. This little bit of embroidered propaganda (an army of seamstresses sewed and sewed for months and months!) worked miracles to create the images William (now called “the Conquereor”) wanted for his new subjects. We ended the term with the spectacular painting from 1819 by Gericault called The Raft of the Medusa. This was also a little number about national pride, but stemmed from Gericault’s desire to inform his Frenchmen about the ineptitude of the French government. Those are our bookends for the term and for the Celebration today.

So last week I spent probably a collective amount of 10-12 hours creating the exam. By that I mean I study the old AP exams of the last 18 years and snip and snip and put together an exam from old exams so my students become more and more accustomed with the language, the feel, the tone, the rigor of the Big Mama test in May. Typing multiple choice questions is among the dreariest of teacher activities, but, sigh, it must be done.

I am producing this exam here similar to how the AP test will be done starting this May. Gone are the slide projectors and the changing of the slides as each prompt progresses onward in the test. We now produce a booklet, in color, with the art works and the questions. I have to say, it is a beautiful test, just seeing the colored images and the challenging prompts.

Okay, since no will be checking the blog in the next 10 minutes I hope, I will divulge some of the exam. Just think—if someone happened to check the blog walking to the Dining Hall they could have a heads up…hmmmm…they are probably studying instead of googling me.

The exam is in two sections. The first section has 2 thirty-minute essays separated by 29 multiple choice questions ranging from 1000 to 1800. This is the most challenging and liberating part of the exam since the young scholar must whip through the rolodex of his/her mind to come up with art works to respond to the question. Essay #1 ask this: Many cultures use architecture to express or reinforce power and authority. Choose two works of architecture from two different art periods. Discuss how each work conveys power and authority.

And Essay #2 asks: Most cultures have made use of art’s narrative function. Select and fully identify two works that visually convey a narrative from two different art periods. Identify the subject of each narrative and discuss the means used to convey the narrative.

The second section is 9 mini-essays and 62 multiple choice. You need stamina to endure this baby.

The real fun though in preparing for the exam is watching these students absorb the information and engage with the art works and the historical forces and personages.
Yesterday I had a 2-hour study session and we worked on practice essay topics and about 20 students came and labored over about 8 short essays and 8 long essays to get in shape for the visual calisthenics of Art History exam.

We looked at a sculpture of Napoleon’s sister depicted as Venus. The question asked to name the art historical period and explain how the form and content conveyed its meaning. As we worked on this neo-classical work from the early 19th century, Omar, a young man with a great mind, offered an insight that was pretty stupendous. Omar said that ever since the Platonic Academy deemed Venus the “originator of Life,” any connection to Venus strengthened someone’s position and power. As Omar explained to the class, “Napoleon would benefit from his family being seen as deities and that powerful. That would help his power and authority as the leader of France.” How about that for going beyond the naming and dating of the art work?

And then last night as I graded tests from this week, I got a call from Dana, another great mind. Actually she called several times. I had told everyone to call me if they had “an art history emergency,” so I expected calls. But Dana did not call over and over begging for an easy test or whining. Oh, no. She called for clarification. She called to ask if I could send her better images of Santiago de Compostela in Spain. She called to ask about labeling some artists “Late Italian Gothic,” or “Proto-Renaissance.” She never once seemed angry that she was spending her Friday night deepening and broadening her already impressive knowledge.

During one of Dana’s calls for clarification a gaggle of shebab came over to discuss their last test from this week. None of the guys pandered or indulged in the whiny behavior that some teachers face. These guys came over to see how they were doing with this knowledge. Zack had the best test of the bunch, a neat 98% on what was a challenging test over 400 years. Ghayth had come over to check on his test—he had taken a second version of the test just to see if he might improve. Yes, he had reached the A level finally too. George lamented that his test was not his best, but while he always is at the top of the pile, he resolved that for the exam today he would be back on top. Never once did he grin and blame senioritis on a non-A test. Instead they looked at each other’s tests, congratulating each other on the successes, offering nuggets of wisdom about why someone had said that that painting looked like Frans Hals even though it was Pieter Brueghel, reminding them that while Adelaide Labille-Guiard had joined the Art Academy in France in the 1780s, Judith Leyster, since she was a woman, was not allowed admission in the mid-17th century.

I went over to brunch this morning to meet with a few more students who wanted to check on their short essays and make sure they understood how to attack these essays. I spoke with the sharp sharp Qxhna about why her explanation of “they got classical fever” was not as strong explanation of defining the values of the neo-classical age; George came up and said he hoped knowing about 5 different door jambs from the Gothic Age would take care of explaining the evolution of Gothic statuary. Swara and Abdullah were arguing over whether Duccio or Giotto was the better artist. Hamdi and Gaith just stopped by and we discussed why a wealthy English family would copy designs by Italian designer Palladio—what would a father and husband hope to project in the design of his home. And so on and so on.

In a couple days maybe this satisfied glow will fade—especially as I attack the mountain of exams and grade them! But right now, I am so, what? Hmmm…Pleased? Blessed? Invigorated? Overjoyed?

I guess the best word to choose is—sublime. We have been discussing this word this last week as we entered into the Age of—wait for the bulky, clichéd word—Romanticism. Romanticism is an umbrella term for about a dozen movements, but they are unified in a sense in the hope of reaching a state of…wait for it…sublime. Not just any old calm, or serenity, but that state of having struggled and despaired and hoped and worked and agonized—a state of bliss, of sublime.

The last couple days have been blissful helping students, answering the varied questions, reminding them of all they know, seeing their work pay off. The discussions were all about the work, their knowledge, their skills, their prowess in the byzantine-like tunnels of art history. Not a one bemoaned (in front of me at least!) the exam or why is it so hard?? They just rolled up the proverbial sleeves and went to work.

And on the first page of the two exam sections is my favorite phrase in Latin, a phrase that my grandmother taught me: Per Aspera Ad Astra…From the rough places, to the stars…

I will let you know how they did and their place in those stars. Time to walk over to the Dining Hall and give them exam!

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