On Gatsby, Snowmobiles, and a Really Good Metaphor

Back when I started teaching, I could assign projects for no reason other than the sheer pleasure of doing a project and tapping into our creativity. But as education evolves, so do the expectations for projects: they must connect to standard mastery, they must address learning styles, they should have skill scaffolding, and if administered cooperatively, they should also address accountability. I need to know where their base learning is, measure their growth, and communicate an outcome based on said project. It's a little exhausting, honestly. Important! But exhausting. I'm always checking, checking, checking for understanding - are they getting something out of this project? Can they read closely? Do they understand how characters develop? Can they identify author's purpose? Is there any VALUE to this assignment?

I started The Great Gatsby with my sophomores this week. I love this book with my whole entire self. I love my sophomores too, and I LOVE this unit. I spent a LOT of time putting together a project that meets the above guidelines. Students have options, expectations, and rubrics. I was enjoying walking around today as they got started on them, discussing their project plan and getting an idea of where they were at so far in their understanding of the novel, its themes, and its characters.

As I worked with one group, I couldn't help but overhear the group next to me, deep in discussion, flipping through magazines. As I listened, one of them said, "I can't find anything in here with a picture of carbon-fiber." What? Carbon fiber? There's nothing in The Great Gatsby that even resembles carbon fiber, so I was pretty sure they were a little off task. I decided I'd better wander over and see what was going on. I saw they had poster board, glue sticks, scissors, and a pile of magazines on their table. They had chosen a collage project on four major settings present in the novel. They had a big stack of Minnesota Snowmobiling magazines they were flipping through and talking about. So far they had labeled the four quadrants, and had cut out some pictures of snowmobiles, engine parts, and some Ski-Doo logos. I was puzzled.

I gently inserted myself into the conversation, and then asked, "What does carbon fiber have to do with Gatsby, may I ask?"

One young man looked up at me, surprised. "It's really expensive! I need a picture of it for Gatsby's mansion, he's the only one who could probably afford it."

I'm not sure if you just had a moment, but I just had a moment. A moment where I realized exactly how much I DON'T know. A moment where I realized how much he DID understand about Gatsby, and a moment where I was smacked in the face with the reminder that the crossing over of interdisciplinary worlds is a REALLY BIG DEAL. It absolutely delighted me. I laughed out loud and said, "That is so awesome, I didn't know that. Show me what else you have on there."

He said, "Well, I put a Ski-Doo in Nick Carraway's quadrant because he's poor and they're junk." One of his friends laughed, but his partner said, "Hey! I have a Ski-Doo!" and then we all giggled. Then the partner said, "Yeah, actually, they are junk. That's probably where it belongs." I told them I had a lot to learn, and they would have to help me figure their project out a little bit.

The third group member said, "Gudahl, we're doing, like, metaphors. You get it?"

Yep. I get it. Carry on.