And then, on the horizon, we beheld mountains.

Heading into unfamiliar territory this week. Time to take a turn along a path with more ups than downs. And while I do hold a map with some roughed-out directions, it inspires little confidence in the possibility of finding an efficient route. So, it is at times like these that I cling to my mantra: Do. Learn. Do Better.

This Friday marks the midway point for the first semester. And beyond the fact that I still can’t believe that much time has passed already, the map I hold indicates that I pledged to provide a progress report at this time, a report created in collaboration with each individual as to his/her progress at this point in the journey, a pledge I aim to honor. The desire to do it is not the problem. In fact, I am excited to venture forth along this path. The problem rests in how to do it. How am I going to collaborate with 89 kids over the next week to capture the essence of their growth, and still move us forward in our journey? We cannot simply pause. Winter is coming, snow has already dusted the higher peaks, and we have to get through the passes, to pause is to perish. With no desire to perish in the mountains, I have a plan to get us through. And while it may very well not be the most efficient route in the end, I will chart our way, hoping to make the trek easier next time. Here is the plan.

1. I have already adapted the learning logs to create a collaborative approach between each kid and me.
2. My initial plan was to meet with each kid, completing the report side-by-side. But I fear that this may not be feasible, taking too much time. So, I will pre-complete, my part of the form this week while the kids are working. I will have them done by the end of day Thursday. Then, on Friday, during class, I will have the kids complete their parts, and I will recollect them when they finish.
3. Then, next week, we will take the “pre-completed” reports and compare our responses, face-to-face.
4. Some responses will likely be left blank by me until I have the opportunity to speak to the kiddo. I know my kids pretty well, but there are some things for which I may have insufficient knowledge (especially the profile items), so I will wait on those items until I have their input.
5. As far as where are responses differ and our perceptions don’t match up, we will seek to find a middle ground, each supporting his or her position. The key here is collaboration. I am not trying to “get” the kids. I am simply sharing what I see, and what I see may be inaccurate, so I welcome points of disagreement as entry points into conversations about progress and perception. This step will take most, if not all, of the second week. even though official midterm grades are due sooner.
6. And it is here that I am fortunate. The “grades” are done. They are in Skyward, and they will be sent home. But the progress/growth reports will still be in the works. They will take time. And with 180, I have the freedom to give myself permission to take the necessary time, time to create that which I hope the kids, parents, and I all find value in at the end.
7. The co-completed reports will then go home for parents to sign and return.

And that’s the plan. Two weeks to get through our first set of mountains. Hope it’s enough. I am eager to get underway with this part of the project. I will no doubt learn a lot from this process, but I love to learn. I will share some anonymous, completed reports at the end so you can see what they look like.

Have a magnificent Monday, all.

I discovered that the survey I shared yesterday could only be opened by Cheney School District employees. So, for those who couldn’t open it but were interested, I copied it directly into this post. Sorry for an inconvenience yesterday.

Morning, all. No official comments from the kiddos this week, so I thought I would share the student survey that I will give to my kids this coming week as part of my midterm check in. I hope the link works. I will share results when I get them. Have a great weekend.

https://docs.google.com/a/cheneysd.org/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScfvWOP3nbQc81cDgqwnw7VVmSzDAWJ72Df0mL79Y-yFVEFIA/viewform

Hated to do it. Had to do it. What’s done is done. No going back now. Have to own it.

I stole. From my kids. In broad daylight. Witnesses everywhere. Won’t get out of this one. I am guilty. No trial necessary. I submit.

I took a day. I robbed my kids of their read-to-learn day. Today. Friday. I promised that Fridays would be reading days, but yesterday I informed the kids that I would have to go back on that promise, that I would have to use the day for something else. And so, regretfully, I pulled the plug, reading day down the drain. Let me explain.

Time doesn’t wait. And as the first third of the year will soon be behind us, I am beginning to feel the widening gap, as it marches ahead of us, immune to fatigue, steady and unrelenting, the tortoise in the race. So, it stands, then, that the hare, assuredly fast but not always wise, will use a cheap trick to stay in the race. Some day the hare will learn. But today is not that day.

Today, we will leap headlong into our My-Moment-to-Make-a-Difference speeches. In their own ways kids will confront an injustice, using the power of their words and the strength of their ideas to right a wrong. And though I tried to keep them in suspense, they would not have it. They cajoled me into telling them what could possibly be more important than their promised day. So, I let the cat out of the bag, and told them that I needed to introduce their speech projects. As one might imagine, this did little to settle their feelings of betrayal. In fact, it was salt on the wound. Public speaking settles no one.

And to that point, their tummies turned and the groans began. It was nothing new. I’ve heard it all before. I have heard it for years. I heard it last year when I introduced the same project, a project that–if you remember–earned top ranking as producing the most-satisfying moments of my twenty-year career. And while I have the same high hopes again this year, there is a huge difference. There is no grade to dangle. As such, this stands to be the toughest test yet for 180.

Last year it was a required opportunity. This year it is simply a provided opportunity. But that is the essence of the 180 classroom: opportunity, and I will not waver. I can’t. And so, with a great deal of trepidation, I will present that which strikes fear into the majority of the population, a public-speaking opportunity. Opportunity. “Thank you for the opportunity to speak in front of people,” said no one ever. And the kids will not likely thank me today either.  Of course, they don’t really have to do it. I can’t make them. I won’t make them. And I will tell them as much. I provide opportunities. They make choices. And while I am honestly worried about their choices, I am also incredibly eager to see  the outcome of this formidable challenge to the 180 approach. What will they choose?

For those who do choose the opportunity, they choose a path not easy. Public speaking is feared for a reason. It is hard, but hard is not impossible. Hard is a key ingredient to growth. I am pleased to provide such an important growth opportunity. The kids deserve no less.

Happy Friday, all.

There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest. –Elie Wiesel, from “Hope, Despair and Memory”

Enter the Holocaust. Our journey in 211 enters a darker realm today. For the next several weeks we will trek through the horror that was, the horror that can be neither easily nor fully imagined, the horror that must, as Elie would suggest, never be forgotten. And while it will be a trip neither pleasant nor easy, we will endure it; we will honor the call; we will remember. But we will also do more. We will learn that we, too, with our own words can make a difference.

Guided by the question, “Confronting Injustice: Can We Make a Difference?” the kids will select and confront an injustice for their Confronting-Injustice-and-Making-a-Difference speeches. Through our discussions, we have generally concluded that while we cannot always prevent injustice, we cannot just ignore it either. We have to take a stand. We have to have to believe that we can make a difference in our world. Perhaps now, more than ever, we need this generation to believe in the power of their potential. I just hope I can help them discover the power they possess. It is not enough that I believe. They must believe.

Yesterday, our first steps began with reading Elie’s Nobel acceptance speech for Night in 1986. Gone now, dying just this past year, Elie’s words are perhaps more powerful than ever, an agelessly relevant reminder that we must remain ever-vigilant against that which threatens our humanity.

None of us is in a position to eliminate war, but we must expose it and denounce it in all its hideousness. War leaves no victors, only victims. Mankind needs to remember this more than ever. Mankind needs peace more than ever,for our entire planet, threatened by nuclear war, is in danger of total destruction. A destruction only man can provoke, only man can prevent. Mankind needs to remember that peace is not God’s gift to his creatures, it is our gift to each other.

This was delivered in ’86 when the Cold War was still hot, a time when I was young and worried–truly worried–about the next big war, maybe literally, “the war to end all wars.” And now, thirty years later, Elie’s words seem no less relevant, the world no less scary. We have to read Night. We have to remember. We have to remember that the morning, to spite the night, can still come. Even if the days are dark ahead, if we remember, we can find the light, discover the day. Darkness must not descend.

Okay, enough of that. Sorry for the melodramatic doom and gloom, but this stuff is important, and lately it’s felt all too real. I worry more than I care to admit about the world we’re leaving our kids. And I suspect that I am not alone. But maybe if we can get them to discover and believe in things greater yet, they can be the difference. I aim to try.

Let’s try to be happy Thursday, all. The sun’s about to rise. Day triumphs again.

Despite a rough start, turns out yesterday wasn’t Monday in disguise after all; it was a Terrific Tuesday–for many reasons. I will offer ten, ten random wonders that brought joy to my day. I truly have so much to be grateful for.

Terrific Ten

1.  My morning commute with my son Finn. He has recently taken up the bass guitar and joined the CMS jazz band. Their practice is before school, so I, the early bird, gets the pleasure of dropping him off each day. It’s only a 7 minute drive, but it’s our time to catch up. Our latest discussions have entered the realm of girls, Finn wondering aloud about the confusion of liking someone with so many things to consider, mostly the weight of looks and personality. Oh, Finny, welcome to awful age of adolescence. Wish I could say it gets easier.

2. Catching up with Kasia. Kids’ lockers are tiny at CHS. So, they drop their bags off in teachers’ classrooms each morning, picking them up at the end of the day. Incidentally, my room has become Kasia’s preferred drop off. A student from last year and a creator of two movies that I shared with you, Kasia often engages me with questions about how the “A thing” is going this year. Yesterday, the “Re-Opp” sign up caught her attention, and she asked about it, and it gave me the opportunity to gush a little about the success of 180 so far. Thanks for always checking in, Kas.

3. No contract in my box. Yesterday, the district distributed the “additional-duty” contracts to teachers who fill a variety of positions from club advisers to department chairs. It is the first time in my 14 years at CHS that I have not taken on additional duties. I made that tough decision last spring when I committed to P-180, and it has been one of my best professional decisions ever. Yes, less money. But, more importantly, way less stress.

4. Windows. There were moments yesterday when I purposefully paused and marveled at the fall beauty. Such a gorgeous day. Having taught in the dungeon for 13 years, it has been nice to have an exterior room with a view and natural light. Improved mood indeed!

5. Lunch crew. Though we love all our little critters dearly, we also need breaks from them, It’s a quick 30 minutes, but I value the adult time I get with my peeps each day at lunch. Thank you Ms. Tamura, Ms. Alderete, Mr. Martin, and Ms. Comi. You all brighten my day.

6. Caring Community. I am proud to live in a community that cares and answers the call when there is a need. Hungry kids daily raid my “pantry,” a service that I could not provide without the help of all who have contributed and continue to contribute to the cause. Thank you a million times. You are making a huge difference for kids. I think of you all each time a kid gets food, which means, I think of you a lot. Thank you.

7. Rides home with Sissy. The other book end. My daughter delights me daily with her stories about her day. Yesterday, she read an actual story to me that she had written in class. As a fellow writer, I smile at her voice and expression in her writing. She wants to be writer. She already is.

8. Jack bounced back. Yesterday, I told the story of Jack flashing me a one, revealing his progress in class the day before. And I also mentioned my mild admonishment to his revelation. Well, yesterday he threw me a two, a legitimate two (I checked). He did not set the world afire with his efforts, but he improved, and I can be happy with that. Thank you, Collin (I mean “Jack”).

9. Necessarily unnecessary. So, I go potty between every period. Consequently, I am a wee bit late each period. But the kids know what to do, so they are usually ready to go as I slip into the room, quietly apologizing for my tardiness. Yesterday was no different, but unbeknownst to me, Mr. Roberts, assistant principal and my new evaluator for the year, was there to do an observation. As I walked in–late, he was sitting among the kids engaging them in conversations about their blogs. Most of them, he told me, had begun working before the bell, and they were all working at the bell. Guess they don’t need me. Pretty motivated for kids who already have A’s.

10. Dinner in the mic. Our weeks are busy, in many respects, too busy, but we manage. Monday and Tuesday are especially busy with my teaching at the college in the evening. Even so, my lovely wife, despite her own crazy schedule, found time to make dinner and leave it for me in the microwave. It was a perfect end to a perfect day. Thanks, Sher. Couldn’t do it without ya.

Pretty lucky guy, me. Happy Wednesday, all. Sorry for the not-so-substantive post this morning. Have a great day.

Morning, all. Feels like it might be Monday again. Slept in till 4:30. Had trouble getting the graphic to post.  Might be in for a long day.

So, I came across another graphic that aptly represents the journey in the 180 classroom. Of course the goal is to get all across the divide, landing each safely in the land of the “Learner-Driven,” but the divide is wide, the ditch deep, the rut resistant to such ambitious whims as that. So, then, what? Well, that depends. Some days the gap gapes wider than the vision of my dreams, allowing doubt to cloud the road ahead. Other days, I stand firmly resolved in achieving that which must be, the goal seeming but a step away, the far edge near, my stride long, my strut secure. Yesterday, was both days.

A cloud on the horizon. So, the kids are working on their blogs for their My-Learning Projects. Aside from some initial direction to begin their day and some assistance along the way, they have both the freedom and responsibility to drive their learning. I intentionally step back. I have to, but it is not easy. I want to be at the center. I want to swoop in and drive them when they are sitting idle, their cars in park. I want to move the stick to D and make them go. Time, after all, is moving, and they aren’t. Opportunity stands not still. And, I do, to some degree, remind them of this, using my “influence” to move them ahead. To be fair, many are cruising along, their learning vehicles  moving full speed ahead. But some aren’t. And that’s not easy to swallow. Even more, some seem okay to idle in neutral.

At the end of each period yesterday, I had kids show on their fingers how productive they were. 3 productive. 2 somewhat. 1 not very. Jack (name changed) flashed me a one. I, disappointed, mildly rebuked him, and he just shrugged and smiled. He was not being insolent. He was just being honest. And that unnerves and unsettles me. And it makes me doubt. Am I screwing up? Would he be better off in a Teacher-Driven environment? Is this Learner-Driven stuff a pipe dream? I don’t know. And so I doubt, and my doubt troubles my days and nights. But with each doubt, I discover hope.

The sun, despite the clouds, is always there. Yesterday, Mikkela, remembering that I had offered an optional Performance Re-Opportunity last Friday as another chance for them to demonstrate proficiency, asked me where she could sign up. Made my entire day. And others followed, driving their own learning, “willing to take risks and go the extra mile.” Thank you for reminding me that the sun never really goes away, even if it’s hidden from our view.

Happy Tuesday, all.

My early-morning routine generally begins with a cup of coffee and a quick cruise through Facebook, the news, and Twitter. And while I am catching up on the world big and small, in truth, I am frequently looking for inspiration for the morning’s post. It is not always easy to come up with ideas at 3:30 in the morning–every day, so I seek my muse and I often find her in the Twitterverse. The graphic above caught my eye, and since I really had nothing else on this early Monday morn, I grabbed it. Here it goes.

I’ve spoken before about influence and power, highlighting the differences, advancing the former as the banner, the beacon in the P-180 classroom. Power does not belong in the P-180 classroom. It necessarily leaves as soon as we hand the A’s to the kids. But influence doesn’t magically appear in the vacuum of power’s exit from the stage. Influence is not incidental. Influence is intentional. And intentional influence is at the center of success in the P-180 classroom.

It’s funny how sometimes we don’t know what we know until someone or something shows us what we know. For me, in this particular moment, that something was the above graphic. It’s as if Ms. Vora divined what was going on in my muddled mess of a mind, and she captured it–beautifully. Thank you, Tanmay. I don’t know you, but I feel like you know me, at least that which makes me tick.

Of course, I am not suggesting that I am the things that she highlights. But I am suggesting that I work at those things; I work hard at those things. To some degree, I believe I always have as a teacher, but now it’s not a novelty; it’s a necessity. I have to work at these things to keep 180 alive. And now that these things have finally taken form, I will work even harder–with even greater intention–to create the influence I need to change education–within and without. In the end, if I am honest, it won’t be enough  to change the world in 211. I want to influence others to make their own changes, to make better the worlds of our kids’ educational experiences, our kids’ journeys. You see, I believe we can change the world. One classroom at a time.

Happy Monday, friends.

Some words from the kids this week. They are the best. Such good companions on this journey. Lucky to be among them.

“Syrie, to be honest, your class takes so much stress off me, but I still feel like I’m learning more in this class than if there were a grade involved. Thank you! –Aidan

Aidan, I’m happy that this class and approach have helped relieve some stress for you. I am also happy to hear that you feel like you are learning.

“I think the Learning Log every 4 weeks will be a good idea.” –Layla

Layla, thank you for chiming in on the discussion about this topic. I value your input. See the next comment and response.

“This system is great, but one thing about our new idea to have Learning Logs every three weeks is a little counter-intuitive to the plan for having one a month. Due to the planning of it, we will only have one a month anyway, just at different times.” –Anonymous

Anonymous, good point. I had pretty much arrived at the same conclusion, and since I was already leaning towards every three weeks, and since it will still essentially be once per month, I think it will end up being a satisfactory solution for all. 

“I am happy to be in this class because I haven’t only learned about how to survive in school but also life. I feel like most of school only applies in the classroom, but this class will help me in everything that I do. We don’t get “grades” in life, we only get opportunities to be a better person. Thanks so much for the opportunity! –Anonymous

Anonymous, so happy that you have discovered the essence of the approach: opportunity. That is what it’s really all about in the classroom AND in life. Wise words, young friend.

“I really enjoy this class because it is super laid back and super fun. I love how we can learn and not be based on a letter grade. You are a wonderful teacher. Also, I want you to know that I like getting the EOW and the TOW on Friday and having it due the next. Thanks for everything, Sy.” –Hanne

Hanne, thank you for your feedback this week. Glad that you are enjoying the journey. So happy that I get to experience learning with you this year.

“Sy, I’m sorry that I haven’t gotten a lot of the work done. It’s just always buried under other classes’ work. I feel like for this system to work every teacher has to do it.” –Anonymous

Anonymous, no apologies necessary. Sorry that you find yourself buried by work. I wish, too, other teachers would, if not follow, at least re-evaluate their approach to grading, teaching, and learning. 

“Hey, Sy. I just want to first thank you for all the encouragement you give all of us for our work; whether we receive a 1 or a 3 on something, you still encourage us to keep going and keep pushing ourselves. I also want to say how great I think Project 180 is because you’re not only teaching us about Language Arts, you’re teaching us real-life lessons as well. You provide us with learning opportunities but don’t make us do them. Like you’ve said before, that puts us in charge of our learning, teaching us not only how to form a complex sentence but also teaching us self-discipline, and that, in reality, we’re in charge of our own learning and our own life. Thanks, Sy! –Anonymous

Anonymous, thank YOU. Thank you for taking responsibility for yourself in learning and in life. I am impressed and inspired by your wise words. You have discovered exactly what I hoped you would find on this journey. Excited to see how far we make it this year. Again, thank you. 

Happy Saturday, all.

This graphic caught my attention in the Twitterverse this morning, and while it doesn’t fit my thinking exactly, it’s pretty darn close, especially in the sense that learning is a circle, not a line. We have to give kids multiple opportunities to circle back to beginning, giving them not only another chance to prove proficiency, but also–maybe more importantly–another chance to apply new learning. This, I believe, is when growth occurs. But this takes time. Even more, it takes intentionality. The P-180 classroom relies on both.

Intentionality. This rests on the 10 Super-Student Standards, the year-long targets that provide the platform for all learning opportunities, both practice and performance. To be sure, the idea of power or focus standards is nothing new. But in a P-180 classroom, the difference might be in how they are used. In a 180 classroom, they are embedded and scaffolded, infused into all we do–ever present as they cycle, appearing again and again. The standards are selected with a full-view of the year ahead, guided not only by the Standards Du Jour (at present the Core) but also the experience and expertise of the classroom teacher. As I have said in the past, they are the 10 on which we will hang our hats at the end of the year, the 10 with which I, with confidence and evidence, will be able to say my kids have achieved proficiency.

And that is why learning has to be a circle. Thinking back over my years, where–regrettably–learning was more line than circle, I cannot say with much confidence that kids actually learned. Oh, they “learned” enough to get past the test, but I am not confident they “kept” that learning as we rushed into new content, covering as much as we could over the course of the year. Now with 180, I am focused on learning the content, not covering the content. And, yes, there will be some things that we do not get to, and that’s the cost, but there is always a cost. And that is where intentionality comes into play. I have been very intentional in my selection of standards, selecting what I believe will support the challenges that kids face not only now but also later. Of course, a part of being intentional is keeping track of one’s decisions, making sure he has made the right choices, which means I may have to make some changes along the way as I learn. But that fits, too. Do. Learn. Do Better.

Time. The P-180 classroom sets a slow pace. And this takes some getting used to. The problem with a slow pace is that it eats time, and I struggle with this. I worry more than I care to admit if I am taking too much time. I am conscious–very conscious–of the fact that 37 days in we have only had one assessment, and I frequently feel the urge to jump ahead as time disappears on the horizon. But I resist. I pause and reflect and find that while we are not passing by targets and tests like mileposts on a fast freeway, I have been able to provide a steady stream of feedback, way more feedback than I have ever provided at this point in any of my twenty years. And, then, I stop worrying. And, I also find a feeling, a feeling that I have never quite felt before, a feeling that my kids are learning, really learning, and that feels good, feels right. But I, maybe like my kids, have not reached a point where I fully trust my experiences with 180, and so I remain cautious; I remain hesitant to fully let go and trust my feelings. But with each passing day, it’s becoming easier to trust the path that lies ahead. I hope it’s getting easier for the kids, too.

Happy Friday, all.