Winter hit us pretty hard this past weekend, so we have a snow day today. Will spending my day plowing and shoveling. Be warm and safe out there, everyone.
Back here tomorrow. Maybe.
Do. Reflect. Do Better.
Snow Day: Project 180
Monthly Archives: February 2019
Failure to Follow: Project 180, Day 100
He didn’t follow directions.
She even repeated them.
“When the timer goes off, cover with foil, and reset timer for another twenty minutes.”
She even texted him a reminder, so he wouldn’t forget.
The timer went off. He took it out of the oven, turned off the timer, and set the dish on the stove top.
When she got home, dinner wasn’t done.
He didn’t follow directions.
I even repeated them.
“When you revise the sentences in numbers 4 and 5, please underline the parallel elements in your sentence.”
I even reminded him (the whole class) as they were beginning to finish up the performance.
When he handed in the performance, nothing was underlined in numbers 4 and 5.
This happened in every period yesterday. And, in each, there were a number of hims and hers who didn’t follow directions.
Why? I don’t know. They weren’t listening? They’re kids? They’re humans?
In another time, in another classroom, Sy would have marked them wrong, referenced the multiple times directions were given, and pointed to those who did follow directions as evidence for why they missed the problem: they didn’t follow directions.
He would have been teaching them the lessons of the real world. Directions matter. They do. But in my experience, there are still plenty of folks, including myself, who fail to follow directions (see dinner example above) in the “real world.”
In this classroom, in this time, Sy does differently than he did. Today, he acknowledges that things happen, that kids, despite his attempts to prevent such things, don’t always follow the given guidelines. And so he works with not against them.
Yesterday, I gave the hims and hers some grace by simply calling them back up to the table to correct the problem. In most cases the sentences were written correctly; they just had not identified the parallel elements.
But wasn’t that inconvenient? Guidelines ensure efficiency. Yeah, it was a little clunky maybe, but I think serving others necessitates inconvenience. My job is to help and serve kids in this formative time in their lives. Do I want them to follow directions? Of course. Will they–despite my diligence to avoid it–not follow directions? Obviously.
What about the other kids who followed directions? Their attention to detail and direction will no doubt reward them in life. But I will no longer let that be the justification for penalizing those who don’t. Those who don’t will learn their lessons–probably time and again. But as for ending their habit right now and forever in room 206 because they forgot to underline in problems 4 and 5, not gonna happen.
Yesterday, millions of directions probably weren’t followed–at school and home, by young and old. In my little neck of the woods, dinner was saved and kids were given a chance to correct a mistake.
We choose what’s possible in the classroom. I have found a lot of wisdom in choosing possible. So I do.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…choosing a Community Champ.
…clearing the clutter (passing back Performances and organizing portfolios).
…strengthening culture with Community Circle.
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend. Can’t believe we are at day 100!?!
Do. Reflect. Do Better.
Digging Identity:Project 180, Day 99
Yesterday, the kids started mining their identities. I asked them to start writing an “I Am From” poem. I first came across this “type” of poem in Mary Pipher’s book Writing to Change the World. In chapter 2 “Know Thyself” she shares her version based on the original by George Ella Lyon. I shared Lyon’s with the kids (below).
Where I’m From
By George Ella Lyon
I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch.
(Black, glistening
it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush,
the Dutch elm
whose long gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.
I am from fudge and eyeglasses,
from Imogene and Alafair.
I’m from the know-it-alls
and the pass-it-ons,
from perk up and pipe down.
I’m from He restoreth my soul
with cottonball lamb
and ten verses I can say myself.
I’m from Artemus and Billie’s Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost
to the auger
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.
Under my bed was a dress box
spilling old pictures.
a sift of lost faces
to drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments —
snapped before I budded —
leaf-fall from the family tree.
Using a template I found online, I asked kids to start digging through their pasts to find some gems they could include in their own “I’m From” poems. We will continue working on these today, and the kids will publish and share them next week. It’s the first piece in their Project Identity Portfolio that they will be putting together all semester long as they seek to answer the question, “Who Am I?”
I am “digging” this opportunity to learn even more about my kids as they learn about and share themselves.
How’d the webcast go yesterday? Well, turns out, all my worry will have to wait. Spokane Talks had to reschedule. So we will now do it at a later date. I will keep you posted. All good. Life happens.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…demonstrating learning with parallel structure on a short Performance.
…digging deeper into identity with our “I’m From Poems.”
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Thursday, all. Sorry for the practical post this morning. Have a great day.
Do. Reflect. Do Better.
Warts of Worry: Project 180, Day 98
You’ll be fine.
Usually, I am saying this to my kids. Today, I am saying it to myself.
You’ll be fine, Sy. You write and talk about this stuff all the time. It’s not your first rodeo. Just get up there and do your best.
I will. I do. It’s not. I will.
But, if I’m honest, I am a bit anxious this morning as I think ahead to my guest opportunity on Spokane Talks this afternoon with ED 101 host, Erik Wolfrum.
We are doing a segment on “humanizing education,” and I am eager to share my work around classroom culture. And while I feel like I have much to share, I am a little worried about where to start, go, and end. We only have 24 minutes. It’s an open format, with no advance questions. It’s live. And it’s at home.
What if I say too much?
What if I don’t say enough?
What if I forget to say that?
What if I say something I shouldn’t?
What if I mess up?
I dreamt last night that I lost all my followers on Twitter, and I was desperate to find out why, but no one would talk to me. They just kept disappearing. I hope it was not a harbinger of bad things to come this afternoon. I hope people don’t disappear. I hope I don’t disappear.
You’ll be fine.
I will. But I’ve always been a “Nervous Nellie.” And no matter how many times I do something; no matter how many times I tell myself, “I’ll be fine,” my worry warts raise their ugly heads, and I worry.
I am nervous. I tell my kids that’s a good thing. It means we care. And I do care. Maybe too much. I don’t get up at the crack of dawn every morning to make sense of and share my journey because I have nothing better to do. I believe in this stuff. I live this stuff. It drives me. It consumes me. It’s become me.
And so, as I think ahead–real or imagined–I feel a great amount of pressure to make it count. I want to better education. I want to better the world. I want us to create greater spaces of connection for kids, so they may not only live their best lives now but also live their best lives later. And not simply because we prepared them for what is, but rather because we empowered them to create what yet may be: a world connected, a world they create because they expect more and believe they can do more. That is what I want.
I will share this post with my kids today. I want them to know I get nervous, too. But, more importantly, I want to continue sharing more of what I expect and want from and for them: a better world.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…playing the preparation game (parallel structure).
…sharing my nerves.
…creating “I am from” poems for Project Identity.
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Wednesday, all. Thank you for letting me write through my anxiety this morning. It helped.
Do. Reflect. Do Better.
Sometimes, We Just Have to Float Along:Project 180, Day 97
Some days
Just aren’t ours.
When there’s not much light
in our stars.
It is good to rely
On those around
To buoy us up
So we don’t drown
Probably should have stayed home yesterday. But by the time I got to school and finally decided that was the best course of action, there were no subs available. Didn’t want to inconvenience any colleagues with covering my classes, so I stayed. And I used one of my lifelines.
I give kids two lifelines per semester to use at their discretion. Many never use them (I allow them to carry them over if they don’t). For the few who do use them, it’s generally due to stress from a test in another class. And, of course, some just use them when they are having a crappy day. Regardless the reason, they are their lifelines to spend and accept responsibility for.
Yesterday, my reason fell under the “feeling crappy” heading. I was not–no matter how hard I fought it–going to be my best. So, I let the kids know.
And they in turn, let me know that it was okay.
Fortunately, yesterday was a scheduled personal reading day, so it was good day to float along. Grateful that my kids lifted me up and carried me through. Kids. They really are the best humans.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…playing the preparation game with parallel structures.
…students leading and evaluating a discussion on Nature v. Nurture
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme
Happy Tuesday, all. Still floating a bit, but head’s above water this morning.
Do. Reflect. Do Better.
No Water in the Well: Project 180 Day 96
Morning, all. Find myself a lot tired and a little uninspired this morning. Doesn’t happen very often, but I am not going to fight it. Sorry. Back at it tomorrow. Promise.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…the joy of personal reading.
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Monday, all. Thanks for letting me off the hook this morning.
Do. Reflect. Do Better.
Rediscovering Mr. Rogers
What do you do with the mad that you feel
What Do You Do With the Mad That You Feel? (Song)
When you feel so mad you could bite?
When the whole wide world seems oh, so wrong…
And nothing you do seems very right?
What do you do? Do you punch a bag?
Do you pound some clay or some dough?
Do you round up friends for a game of tag?
Or see how fast you go?
It’s great to be able to stop
When you’ve planned a thing that’s wrong,
And be able to do something else instead
And think this song:
I can stop when I want to
Can stop when I wish
I can stop, stop, stop any time.
And what a good feeling to feel like this
And know that the feeling is really mine.
Know that there’s something deep inside
That helps us become what we can.
For a girl can be someday a woman
And a boy can be someday a man.
Written by Fred Rogers | © 1968 Fred M. Rogers
For a brief time in my very young years, I thought Mr. Rogers was my dad. And whether it was the resemblance he struck in my fading memory of what my father looked like, or the desperate need for a loving man in my life, I wanted him, needed him to be my dad. Desperately.
Of course, I later discovered that he wasn’t my dad–silly kid–he was just a man on TV. But even so, that “just a man on TV’s” kindness served, I now believe, as an important surrogate for instilling the importance of kindness and compassion during my most-impressionable years.
To this day, I’ve never been mad about my parents’ divorce–sad and confused, especially early on, but never mad. And I don’t know why. Maybe I should have been mad. Maybe I learned to “stop it.” Maybe I learned it from Mr. Rogers. In the 70’s there was not a lot to watch on television, so it is likely I heard Mr. Rogers sing the “What Do You Do?” song many times, and it helped the boy become this man.
This man. This forty-seven-year-old man who now finds himself more drawn to Mr. Rogers than the four-year-old boy who could not have needed him more. Of course, the boy then could not have known the impact, could not have guessed he would rediscover his unsung hero’s role in shaping “this man” forty-some years into his future.
In truth, I had not really thought about Fred Rogers in decades. As I got older, Mr. Rogers gave way to more “manly” models, Superman taking top bill, especially as this man entered his career as a teacher. See, he thought, he actually believed (still does, I guess) he had to be a super human, a super hero for his kids, and Superman’s “S” worked well with Syrie, so he found his model. (A look into my closet–nearly 20 Superman shirts, and a peak into my classroom–Superman stuff all over, confirms it). So for years, I donned my Super Syrie cape, adopting a persona for kids. But I have recently hung up my cape and turned my prized tees into yard-work shirts. I now a wear a sweater.
Mr. Rogers wore a sweater; that was his cape, and I remembered that as I rediscovered the marvel of the man on a flight home from Tennessee.
I watched–no, I absorbed, Won’t You Be My Neighbor on the seatback in front of me on a long flight home from my niece’s wedding back in October. And as I sat there with smiles–and tears I refused to hide–on the packed 757, I rediscovered my hero, and in doing so, I discovered myself, this man.
This man.
This man puts on a sweater every day as he sings a song to and with his sophomores every period.
This man then sits in a circle with them every period, every day for a brief period of time as they share their stories during Smiles and Frowns.
This man then shares a new Sappy Sy Rhyme as they leave him for the day, as he hopes against hope they feel connected, they feel their stories matter, they feel they matter.
For how they feel means everything. They are human. And there is nothing more human about us than our feelings. So, he considers, and honors their feelings. And in a time when we perhaps need human connection more than ever, he will always listen; he will always consider and honor their feelings so they may someday become men and women who are better connected to themselves and others. Humans need connection.
“And know that the feeling is really mine.
Know that there’s something deep inside
That helps us become what we can.
For a girl can be someday a woman
And a boy can be someday a man.”
This man knows he is not Fred Rogers. He knows he will never be Fred Rogers. But this now man, who was once the boy, knows he owes a deep debt to the man who showed him something deep inside that would someday help him become a man. This man. And this man has never felt more a man than when he is trying to be Mr. Rogers. Thank you Mr. Rogers. I am sorry that it took me so long to remember. And though you were just the guy on TV and not my dad, I’d like to think I might just make you proud when I sit down with my kids every day to help them when their…
“…whole wide world seems oh, so wrong…
And they just need someone to listen.
Someone to help them make it right.
Sharing Project 180
Here’s the recent podcast I did with the folks at TeachThought. Wanted to share. Thank you all for being so supportive of my work and message. Honored to share “our” story with more of the world.
But She Asked Me Anyway: Project 180, Day 95
“Sy, I didn’t get this done. Is it okay if I take it home and finish it,” Faith asked.
“What do you think I’m gonna say, Faith?”
“Of course you can,” she gently parroted.
“Of course you can,” I smiled, as “onlisteners” cracked their own “knowing smiles.”
“Man,” I continued. “Next year I ‘m gonna try out “mean” for a year. A new project. Instead of Project 180, I am going to do Project Mean-Guy Sy.”
Laughing, kids bobbed their heads in a “good-luck-with-that” gesture.
Maggie, my TA who was in my class last year, announced with a gentle chide, “That’ll last about half a period.”
They know me better. I could never be Mean-Guy Sy. And here’s why.
I don’t need to be.
Of course, I didn’t enter the world of ed knowing that. I have learned that. I have, much to my shame, been mean a few times, but I quickly learned better upon reflection. We never have to be mean to kids. Never.
So, then, does that make me “Super-Nice-Guy Sy?” Of “Easy-Guy Sy?” I prefer, “Respectful-Guy Sy.”
I respect my kids. I respect their dignity, their individuality, their humanity. And I pay it first. I respect them and then work hard to earn their respect.
If that makes me easy, so be it. Okay, but can I manage a classroom? Don’t try to. I nurture culture.
From the moment my kids walk in the door.
To the words they find within.
To the roles, rights, responsibilities they own.
To the last words they hear as they leave my room.
Faith knew she didn’t need to ask me if it was okay. She already knew the answer. But she asked me anyway. They all ask. They all know. Of course, it’s okay. And I hope they know that the “okay” is my being respectful, not my being easy. For if they don’t…well, I may have to dig out my “Mean-Guy Sy” costume.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…discussing what Nature v. Nurture reveals about human identity.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.
Do. Reflect. Do Better.