I feel like I am in kindergarten again.

Moriah, 3rd Period (smiling as wide as the sky).

We made snowflakes yesterday. Ya know, the ones we made in elementary school by folding paper, making cuts, and then unfolding them to marvel at the beauty of our creation. Those snowflakes.

But first we read a comic.

Our focus for the semester is “Identity,” and our Essential Question that will drive our work is “Who Am I?” So, as we delve deeper into the realm of identity, we started with Nature v. Nurture yesterday. After viewing a short clip on epigenetics (see below), I asked the kids to read the comic and answer the following questions.

1. What does the cartoon reveal about nature? Support with evidence from the text.
2. What does the cartoon reveal about nurture? Support with evidence from the text.
3. What is the central theme of the text? Write a theme statement.

Then I asked them to consider how our classroom culture related to the comic, particularly our use of Smiles and Frowns.

It honors our differences, our individuality.

We get to see how different and how alike we all are.

You keep us frozen, keep our snowflakes from melting.

Snowflakes from melting. Not sure I have ever been paid a more strange or satisfying compliment from a kiddo.

I then asked them to walk back with me to the first day of class ninety-some days ago, when I shared my “Roles, Routines, Rights, Responsibilities” approach with them, asking in particular if they remembered their first and most important role from the top of the list.

“Be ourselves,” they smiled.

I smiled back. And I told them everything I do is so they not only better discover themselves but also–maybe more importantly–never lose themselves in my room. If kids lose themselves in my room because of the environment that I create, then I cannot–I will not–weather that storm. That I could not accept. So I work to prevent such a terrible tempest. I work hard to save the unique beauty of each snowflake that enters my room.

And with that, I told them they’re all my little snowflakes and to celebrate and honor them we were going to make snowflakes! They responded with glee.

Today, they will add ten character traits to their flakes and hang them ceremoniously on the north wall of my room. Just the place we’d expect a snowflake to be most comfortable.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…playing the “number game” (gaming the standardization game). Continuing with parallel structure.

…hanging snowflakes.

…diving deeper into Nature v. Nurture, reading psychology articles and preparing for tomorrow’s discussion.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all. Be yourselves.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Playing the middle game. Well, I’m trying anyway. I’m cast about by competing currents, and this time of year, though I fervently swim away from it most days, the state test (Smarter Balanced Assessment) pulls, a vortex sucking me into the middle.

As most of my readers know, I harbor no love for standardization. I think our current, now-decades-long obsession with standardized testing has been a plague on learning, a blight on the dignity and humanity of our young.

And though I daily fight it in principle and practice in the 180 classroom, I never fully win the battle. Goliath will not fall, so I yield to my formidable foe. Love it or hate it–I hate it–standardized testing still stands firm, and though I hear hints of change on the horizon (de-linking it from HS grad requirement here in Washington State), it’s still a reality. So, I have to deal with it.

This year, feeling a little friskier than usual, I am going to game the game a bit, and I am going to tell my kids just that. It’ll go something like this.

“I am going to teach you how to play the game of standardization. I am going to put a bunch of stuff in your short-term memory that will likely show up on the Computer Adaptive Test (CAT), so you can dump it there and the state can give you a gold star. (Okay, that was maybe a bit snarky). I am sorry that you have to have your dignity and humanity reduced to a number this spring. But it’s the game we have to play, so play we will.”

Am I selling out? That’s the question isn’t it? Keeps me up at night. Vexes me. But wait, before you unsubscribe or unfollow me and hang charlatan around my neck, let me explain.

I am only devoting 7 strict minutes to this, four days a week. We will do it right after Smiles and Frowns. And my aim is not to drill and kill. I am not that big a sellout. Learning still matters. Always matters. I am just trying to create anchors in my kids’ brains, using an introduction/application model. Yesterday, I introduced parallel structure, a perennial guest on the SBA. But I didn’t even say “parallel structure” till the very end. This was the basic approach.

I asked kids to examine four sentences that I had written on the board, 2 with parallel structures, 2 with non-parallel structures. I asked them to just share what they noticed.

Kids discovered that their ears were helpful. “It doesn’t sound right.”

Kids discovered that there were inconsistencies in the non-parallel.

I then asked them to complete a 4 problem multiple choice exercise, which asked them to choose the element that correctly completed the sentence. They then compared with a neighbor. As a full class, we quickly discussed the what and why of each–leaning on sound and consistency for the “why.”

Finally, I turned their attention to two sets of lines on the board: one set parallel and one set with a line that took a left turn at its middle. They discovered that the set on the right was parallel, consistent. And the set on the left was not parallel, inconsistent.

I said and wrote above the sets of lines. “You just learned about parallel structure.” The anchor: when consistency takes a left turn we have a parallel problem.

Of course, I know better than to think that I just magically and permanently attached “parallel structure” to 148 brains yesterday, but I tried–in earnest–to play the game with them in as dignified, respectful manner as I could until I find a better way to do it.

Am I selling out by acknowledging and bending to the will of the test? Maybe. But it pulls, and when it pulls at my kids, I get sucked in. It sucks.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…playing the standardization game (continuing with parallel structure).

…considering nature v. nurture with a clip on epigenetics and a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

…but in its messiness, it was beautiful because it was theirs.

Awkward silence. In some classes–many seconds at a time–we found awkward silence. And I didn’t blink. Eventually, they did. And, then, they started talking, started learning. And I just listened.

To be fair to my kids, it may have been a bit premature on the first day of the new semester with new classroom communities and different dynamics, but on a whim yesterday, I decided to try something different, seeking–as ever–to give my kids ownership over their learning. They led their own discussion, and not only for the content, but also for the experience of considering discussion dynamics–the latter being my greater goal.

This was basically the process. Individually, the kids prepared in advance by responding to questions and statements on the anticipation/discussion guide I gave them yesterday. Then, I informed them that they would engage in their own class discussion and that I would only be keeping time and taking notes. I would not participate. Before getting started though, I asked the class to share what they thought were elements of a good class discussion, listing their responses on the top of my notes and then reading back their ideas.

Then we got started. I gave them twelve minutes (all we had time for). Made one rule: they could not raise their hands; they had to find polite entry points into the conversation. I sat among them with my note pad, identifying opportunities for feedback. Otherwise, I did not participate.

No, I just watched their beautiful mess unfold. Well, okay, it was better than messy in many instances, but it was messy–no doubt there, but in its messiness, it was beautiful because it was theirs.

Here’s some of the beauty I witnessed.

• awkward silence–I like to think that there’s thinking going on.
• leaders emerging–surprising leaders. Interesting who will step up–and won’t–when the situation calls.
• eye contact
• disagreement
• use of names in response
• tracking and connecting
• self-regulating
• group-regulating
• deep dives into ideas
• active listening
• voice projection
• seeking clarification
• providing examples
• laughter–I laughed out loud many times. Kids are fun.

Of course, there was plenty of mess, too, which can simply be characterized as the opposite from what’s above. Of course, it was messy. They’re human. And being human is messy. And I want my kids to recognize, consider, and deal with the messiness of human communication. So, at the end, I asked them to share what went well and what needs work. Then, I shared my feedback, which in many respects mirrored the things the kids offered in their evaluation. We ended with the agreement that we would do better next time, and that is all–as many know–I ask for.

Of course, I know there are–and I have used–discussion protocols and approaches like Socratic Seminars, and while I think they are effective, they feel a bit contrived to me, so I wanted to try something that was a little more organic. So, we did, and as we did we learned, and we created an anchor for finding better. And trust me, though there were some shiny moments in each of my classes, there are many betters to find as we move forward through our beautiful, messy landscape.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…sharing our initial 50-word responses to the question, Who Am I?

…identifying and using parallel structures in our own writing.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Equal to my dread of an end is my hope in a beginning. I love beginnings. I love the optimism in opportunity. I love the promise in possibility. I love a beginning.

Today is a beginning. New semester. New day. New hope. New opportunity. New possibility. To learn. To grow. To chase better. For me. And for my kids.

We have shed our shells (last betters) from last semester, as they no longer fit. And as we look ahead to our next leg of our journey, we will try out our new selves as we seek to outgrow our new shells (next betters). In the 180 room, it is a shared journey, teacher and student alike. We do. We reflect. And we do better. And repeat–a lot. All any of us can do. Get better.

I shared some of my “chasing better” approach on Twitter this weekend, and it resonated with many, more than I ever thought it might. My original goal with the tweet was to try to communicate that while I share a lot of the great things that happen in my room, there are plenty of things–plenty–that need to get better. In truth, I don’t want people to think–ever think–that I think I have it all figured out. I am just trying to figure it out, and I happen to be sharing my journey as I do. I want my only distinction to be, “He works hard to get better.” That is all I want for myself. That is all I want for and from my kids. Chasing better. Together. Seems there are a lot of us doing just that. And man, I can get behind that progressive approach.

And as we try out our new selves this new semester, our Essential Question seems fitting for taking stock: Who Am I?

We will begin our exploration of “Identity” today with the anticipation/discussion guide below.

Eager to hear what my young humans have to say. Eager to learn with and from them as we start the next leg of our journey. Love me a beginning. It’s a perfect chance to leave better behind in search of the next around the bend.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…taking and supporting positions on Identity.

…providing an initial, anchor response to the question, “Who Am I?”

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all. Excited to continue our journey together, too. Thank you for being here as I chase better. Your support matters. Thank you.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. Forever.

Dang. Can’t believe we’re already halfway through the year. But believe it or not, this leg of the journey’s come to an end. And while I am no fan of “ends,” I love beginnings. Still, before we begin again, we have to say goodbye to what was, to make room for what will be.

Yesterday, I started my goodbyes, and today I will finish them. The sun has set on this semester, but as it sets, it readies to rise. And as I bid adieu to what has been a fantastic journey thus far with my traveling partners, I am eager to get back on the trail with them, chasing our daily betters as the sun sets and rises, a promise of what lies ahead.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…finalizing learning conferences.

…connecting through Community Circle.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all. No school for us tomorrow–mid-winter break. Back here Monday. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Mistakes should be greeted as welcomed guests, not intruders.

Okay, by now, I am sure some of you are tired of seeing this, as I shared it and gushed about it on social media yesterday. Sorry. But it was such an important revelation for me. It’s some assuring affirmation that what I am attempting to do with Project 180 might be making a difference in my kids’ learning experiences. I needed this.

As most of you know, I have been conducting end-of-term learning conferences with my kiddos. In our conferences, the kids select a grade and support it with evidence. The primary evidence for their selections comes from their Performances (my name for assessments) that we keep in an evidence portfolio. The goal is for us to come to an agreement by the end of the conference, arriving at something that we are both comfortable with as a mark that best represents their learning from the semester.

Jamie, the young lady whose wisdom I have been keen to share the last two days, didn’t have to do much convincing. She had secured 3’s (meeting standard) on all her Performances, either the first time or from feedback-driven retakes. I didn’t expect her to select anything other than an A. The evidence was clear. Yet, as she offered up her evidence, she didn’t really focus on what we both already knew–her Performance scores; she homed in on mistakes and retakes as her evidence of learning. When she offered the words above, I made her pause, rewind , and play them again, as I quickly scribbled them onto the back of a grade sheet in my grade book.

Inspired by the smile on her face and the wisdom in her words, I thanked her–my arms raised in triumph–for uttering such an important truth. We then went on to talk about the value in mistakes and how we learn with them and about her and her peers’ comfort level with them in my room. Of course, the conversation led beyond my room where mistakes hold no such place in word or deed, and some only in word. Many teachers say they value and encourage mistakes in their rooms, but only kids really know the weight of those words in the end. In my opinion for teachers to give weight and value, mistakes must be…

…met without alarm. They should be greeted as welcomed guests, not intruders. Our reactions to them matter.

…answered with actionable, I-can-improve feedback. Mistakes come with an appetite. The last thing we should do is starve them. We need to back them feed.

…graced with the opportunity of a redo(s). This is a must. Actionable feedback requires an opportunity to create action, to encourage movement. Mistakes should be dynamic developments, not static sorters.

…part of the learning story. Kids need to reflect on such moments in their journeys. Mistakes need to look in the mirror; they have a remarkable appearance, a beauty if we behold. I use my Journey Journals for this. Jamie’s wisdom was born there.

Please know I am not trying to preach this morning. I just think mistakes present us with invaluable opportunities. But I think those opportunities live and die with us. Our walk has to match our talk. We have to give mistakes a place at the table. I believe the head of the table.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…finishing up the last few learning conferences.

…wrapping up our semester with a final Community Circle.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all. We are on two-hour delay with a block finals’ schedule. Gonna be a strange day.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

If you haven’t already seen, I changed the face of my blog this past weekend. And while the “new look” suggests a new focus, the goal remains the same: change education one turn at a time: 180 degrees as I “do, reflect, and do better,” hoping that “my turns” compel and inspire others to make and take their “own turns” to create better learning experiences for kids. That hasn’t changed. That will never change.

And while I have been building to this “new face” for sometime, starting with #myroom standards, recently adding #MyRoomMessage, and now introducing #MyRoomMyRealm to the list, I believe the place where we have always had and will continue to have the biggest impact on kids’ experiences is in our rooms. There is much I can’t control outside my room, but in my room, I have a great deal of control over the experience my kids have as I learn and grow with them for 180 days–in my room.

When kids enter our rooms, they enter our realms. As soon as they cross the threshold, they begin to feel. We are responsible for how they feel. I shared my thoughts about this in a post for Teachers Going Gradeless this past summer: My Room: Accepting the Mantle of Classroom Culture. https://teachersgoinggradeless.com/2018/09/22/syrie-my-room/

As we reach the midway mark of this year, I have discovered that my journey has taken me deeply down the #myroom path. I have entered the “realm of my room,” and it is here I shall tarry and explore the possibilities of changing education within, to challenge tradition and convention without.

And as I linger and learn in my realm, I will seek out what’s possible. Already pushing boundaries with this from how I spend my time to how I measure learning, I will continue to explore ways to make my room a realm of possibility. In my search, I will struggle. I will fail. I will learn. I will succeed. And then I will start again, “chasing better” one step at a time. All I can do.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…reconnecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…continuing Learning Conferences.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

“I didn’t really know a lot of the people in this class at the beginning of the year; now I find myself striking up conversations with them in the hallway. Smiles and Frowns has connected us in ways I never expected. That’s been my human experience this semester.”

Male Student, Grade 10, Period 3

How does the human experience connect and divide us? This has been the Essential Question at the center of our work all semester; from the content we explore to the conversations we hold, we have sought to better understand the human experience. So, going into our Learning Conferences, I asked the students to address and discuss our EQ. Most of them, as expected, referenced our work in their discussion, but many of them made specific references to our daily ritual of Smiles and Frowns. I did not expect this. But I could not have been more pleased as kid after kid spoke their “truth” about Smiles and Frowns and the impact its had on their understanding of the human experience.

“In my room I want students to feel connected.” This is my first #myroom standard. Yesterday, and through only a handful of conferences due to our late-start schedule, kids confirmed what I already feel as I live and learn among my little humans day to day: we are connected. And that to me, is deeply satisfying.

“But, of all, I have discovered this is my learning. My learning. And you have given me the opportunity to realize that. I never thought of it like that before. It’s my learning.”

Female Student, Grade 10, Period 3

What evidence of learning do you have from this semester? This was the second question kids had to address in our Learning Conferences. Most of the responses focused on their Performances (assessments) from the semester, for, as evidence goes, their Performance scores carry the most weight. Kids had to discuss their Performances. The young lady above covered all that. It was an easy part of the conversation. She met standard on all of the Performances. Really, for her, it was a slam dunk, and she and I knew it going into the conference. So, I neither needed nor expected her to do much more than go through the motions; she did exceptionally well this semester–on everything. But she did more than go through the motions; she shared her sentiment about owning her learning. Her learning. I was thrilled, and I let her know how important her response was to me, how it helped validate everything I am trying to do. She did not need to say it. She was not “sucking up.” Her “A” was secured long before the conference. She was speaking her truth about her learning, and it could not have made me happier.

In my room I want students to feel empowered. This is my second #myroom standard. I want kids to realize the power–and responsibility–that comes from ownership. It is their learning. And it is something that I try to instill in them every single day. So, when she intimated her feelings of ownership yesterday, it placed me on top of the world. I gushed.

With just barely a start behind me, my next days will be filled with more student truths as I meet each face to face in our sharing of a moment that tries to capture the essence of their learning. Their learning.

Today, I will listen. Today, I will learn.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…trying to put a finger on learning.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

We try. We try all of our days to put our fingers on learning. We try to find and keep what works. We try to avoid and lose what doesn’t. And, through it all, we keep chasing the best ways to foster learning in our classrooms. We give our kids opportunities to show, to demonstrate that they are growing, that they are learning. And then, at some point, the chase has to come to an end, and we have to try to make sense of it all. We have to turn it into a grade. But…

Something there is that doesn’t love a grade.
That finds its fault, that questions its veracity
But at mid-year grading-time we find ourselves there
Seeking a number or letter
We meet there, each to a side
Partners in the journey, the teacher and learner.
There where it is, we do not need the grade,
But the transcript looms, demanding
So fond of its tradition, so proud of its maxim,
“Good grades means good learning.”
End of term is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could plant a notion in its head,
“But how do good grades mean good learning?”
Isn’t there more to it than a number or letter?
And what of the learner? Does she know more than I?
Something there is that doesn’t love a grade.
I could say fairies, but it’s not fairies exactly
And I’d rather it said it for itself. I see it there
Data dotting graphs.
It lives in darkness it seems to me
And not only of paper and spreadsheets.
It will not go behind tradition’s edict, and
It likes having spoken it so long.
It says again, “Good grades means good learning.”

I do not love a grade. I do not find–never have really found–that it captures the essence, the the truth of learning. So, I do different. I seek to get closer to the truth by enlisting, by empowering learners to speak their truth when grading time comes around. For, I believe no one knows the truth of learning better than the learner herself. So I ask her. And I listen. Today, I will listen as I engage in Learning Conferences with my kids through my select-and-support approach to grading.

Here’s the approach.

Final Grades

Final grades will be determined at the end of the semester in a conference between the teacher and student (see below). Here are the final-grade considerations going into the conferences.

1. To earn credit for the course, students must have attempted all Performances.
2. To select an A, B, or C grade, students must have demonstrated growth through response to feedback. Basically, if a student only produces the minimum score for all performances, they will not enter into a grading conference. The resulting grade will be a D.
3. If a student has fulfilled the previous requirements, they will get to select an A, B, or C for a final grade following the process outlined below.

Students will compile evidence from their Performances over the course of the semester. At the end of the semester, students will present their grade selections and evidence (see below) during a conference with their teacher. The students will answer two central questions during the conference.

1. What evidence do you have that you met the priority standards.
2. What evidence do you have that you achieved growth with the priority standards?

At the conclusion of the conference, if the teacher feels that the provided evidence sufficiently supports the selected grade, he/she will consent to the grade. If the teacher feels that the selected grade and supporting evidence do not match up, then this will result in continuing the conference until consensus is achieved between the teacher and the student. Our hope is that this is a rare occurrence, for we expect that the process will lead to grades and evidence that clearly connect. Our goal of honoring student ownership remains, but we also have to honor the necessity of providing sufficient evidence for supporting a claim. At the end of the day, it’s really about arriving at a place where both the student and the teacher are comfortable with the outcome.

Evidence

Our grading approach relies heavily upon evidence that students collect over the term to demonstrate proficiency and growth with the term’s focus standards. Students will maintain an “evidence portfolio” that houses all major assignments and assessments. These documents will be the necessary formal evidence for students to support their selection of grades. However, this is not the only form of evidence that students may use to support their selected grades.

Learning Conferences

Today, we will begin our learning conferences. To prepare, kids were given the three questions below. They will each conduct a 3-5 minute conversation about their learning experience this semester, and we will leave the conversation having arrived at an end, a grade, that we are both comfortable with. Is it the best approach to capturing learning? Probably not. For I believe there’s always a “next better” around the bend. Is it an approach that gets nearer the truth? I believe so. And I think my kids do, too.

Learning Conference Questions

Please consider and answer our Essential Question. How does the human experience connect and divide us? Please provide specific details from class (content and experiences) to support your answer.

What evidence of learning do you have from this semester? Please provide specific examples from your Performances, Journey Journals, and experiences.

What grade best represents your learning from this semester? Why?

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience...

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…getting nearer the truth about learning.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all. Sorry you had to endure my trying to channel Frost’s “Mending Wall” this morning. Just got notice that we are on a 2-hour late start. Guess we won’t have too many Learning Conferences today. Be safe.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

So, I lied. It wasn’t a mean lie, and I even thought this time I was telling the truth, but I wasn’t. I am stressed. Thought I could master the end of the semester frenzy to get things done, to give the kids they help they needed to get through. And to that end, I declared my room a “Less-Stress Zone” on Monday. That lasted about 2 seconds. Well, for me anyway.

But it’s not “I’m-dying-inside” stress. It’s more the “I’m-not-enough” stress that I tend to find and fret about this time of year. I never feel more needed than at the end of a term. And while feeling needed carries a certain satisfaction, it also exacts a cost. I am not enough. But I try to be. I don’t want my kids to be stressed, so I try to carry it for them. Sometimes, I carry too much. And even in all of the “carrying” I cannot prevent all of their stress, even in my “less-stress” zone. Yesterday, despite my insistent assurances that is was the most minor of errors and easily corrected on her latest performance, tears welled in Marion’s eyes as her own stress caught up with her, confiding it was not this class; it was her other classes that were pressing down on her. I can’t do much about that. But I want to. So, I try to make things less stressful in my room. By offering my help. As much as I can muster.

Yesterday, I made a lighthearted attempt to offer my services. I wanted the kids to feel completely comfortable asking me for help. And, it’s not that they don’t usually–I try to make my space a place where they always feel comfortable doing so, I just wanted to make plain that it’s okay. That it’s necessary. That it’s why I am in the room in the first place. And so they ordered from the menu, and they ate, and they ate, and they ate.

Today, the feast continues. And I will do my best to be what I can, to do what I can for each. We will make it. We always do. That’s the truth. The whole truth, the real truth this time.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…wrapping up the semester, preparing for learning conferences.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.