Rough weekend for me. We had our first snow of the season–in September!
And as the stunning storm swirled around the outside, a troubling tempest taunted me on the inside.
I have carried my storm for sometime now. Maybe longer than I think. And whether it was the weather this weekend that found me down and brought it out, or if it was just time, or if I finally found the words for my storm, it came out in the tweets below.
Of course, I don’t really think I am damaging kids. And, I am not leaving teaching anytime soon. But. But there is a storm. And for now, it’s under control. For now, I will stay the course–for kids. For now, I will continue my work, seeking better. For now.
And maybe that’s my worry. My “now” is on the short end as I’ve passed the midpoint in my career. Is it disappointment I feel? Desperation? Never the most patient guy in the room, maybe I am harboring worries of there’s too much work and too little time. I don’t know. Regardless, I will put on my skies-are-clear countenance and show up for my kids today. They will settle my storm. They always do.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…reconnecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…capturing and revealing theme in our own experiences.
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Monday, all. Sorry for being a “downer” this morning.
800. Hard to believe this is my 800th post to my blog. Never–never–thought I’d take it this far when I started this whole thing in response to a challenge by one of my students back in December of 2015. And as I look and think back on my very first post (see below), I realize that while my approach has changed a bit, my desire to change education is as strong as when I took that first, tentative step nearly four years ago.
So have I helped change education? I don’t know. I have changed–dramatically, but I can’t speak beyond the four walls of my room. I have shared a lot of words (roughly 400,000) and some have listened, and I think I have been of some influence, but it’s hard to know if I have actually changed anything. Regardless, the transformation I have experienced in myself as a teacher, as a human is worth the daily, early morning habit I have developed, and that alone is enough to keep me going on my journey to share my classroom and my thinking with the outside world. Maybe in the end all we can really change is ourselves. And as I stand at this moment and look inside, I am pleased with whom I’ve become as a teacher, finding myself a far better steward of my charge to support our youth in their own journeys.
As for my own journey, I am getting better, one step at a time. Might be all that matters.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…connecting with Freedom Writers via student-led discussion.
…identifying and stating themes for Common’s song “Dream.”
…reflecting in Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Friday, all. Thank you for being here with me. And a special thank you to those who have been with me since that very first step. Couldn’t do it without you.
Test today. For me. For my approach. For teaching. For learning.
I am going to hand back my first round of feedback on a Learning Check. No points. No letters. Only feedback.
And that will be the test. For the kids will wonder. Is it good? Is it bad? Is it right? Is it wrong? And I will respond. No. No. No. And No.
Well, actually, I will tell them it’s not about good, bad, right, or wrong; it’s just about better. I believe learning is moving beyond the narrow ideas of good, bad, right, and wrong. And it is this that I will seek to instill in my kids as we journey forward together in our learning this year.
But still, they will wonder. Is it good? And why wouldn’t they? That’s been their conditioning for the past ten years. And though I suppose it is human of us to wonder such things, much of our compulsion here has been ingrained from our good-bad, right-wrong experiences in education. Such a shift won’t happen overnight. For some it may not happen at all at this late stage of the game. But with just under three years left in their public ed experience and with now fewer than 163 days left in our year, I will try to get my kids to see beyond good.
Seems simple enough. I give the kids a task with criteria for success. They do. I provide feedback grounded in the criteria. I ask them to respond to the feedback and the interventions I deliver. I reassess. The cycle continues as necessary. Simple.
Well, yes and no. The process is simple. But the people are complex. Yes, the people. The little humans in my charge. They sit on the other side of my feedback where they bring their egos, their emotions, their insecurities…their humanity. And it is this of which I am keenly aware as I write and deliver their feedback. It is a delicate thing, especially here on the fringe where I offer no right, wrong, good, or bad. For some of my kids, it will be liberating. For others, it will be frustrating. And for that I am sorry, and I will tell them so. It is not my goal to frustrate. It is my sole goal to help them find their better. As such, it will take some time for kids to accept my response to their “queries of quality,” which will be. “It can be better.”
So, there is no “good” in room 206? Well, yes, but I am going to call it success. “You succeeded. You met all the success criteria for this, and you are now ready for the next.” And together, we will keep chasing better.
Admittedly, I am a little anxious for today’s “test,” My own ego, emotions, insecurities–humanity–will be in the room as take this first step “beyond good.” Thankfully, I am accompanied by my friends Do, Reflect, and Do Better. They will see me through. They always do. The worst that could happen is that I will learn. I will learn.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…responding to feedback.
…extending our thinking with Theme using “And, So?”
Morning, all. Short post today. I had to finish writing a piece for a colleague who is publishing a book. So that took the bulk of my time this morning.
Wanted to share that Smiles and Frowns is off to a great start. Kids are connecting and community is building. For the last two days in sixth period, the kids have decided one of them needs to “host” Smiles and Frowns, so they kicked me out of my seat and took the lead. Only fifteen days in, and they have already made me unnecessary. Fortunately, they are still letting me participate. Kids. The best humans. I am blessed to be among them.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…finishing Freedom Writers.
…discovering ideas for our Reality Writers project.
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Wednesday, all. Sorry for the lame post this morning. I will do better tomorrow.
This is my go-to response when kids make mistakes in my classroom. As long as they have not hurt themselves or someone else, there is little that’s going to call for critical action on my part.
The kids call it “chill.” My class is chill. I am chill. And they are not wrong. I am. On purpose. I chill, so they can chill. Stress is not healthy–for any of us. And stress–I believe–is not necessary in the classroom. Stress in the classroom is largely a construct, and we are the architects. We choose what we build, and I choose to chill.
Of course, it took me awhile to warm up to the notion that I am chill, for I thought it meant easy. But the kids assured me otherwise.
“You just understand. You don’t freak out about things. You’re, you know, chill.
So, though I imagine some adults may think my approach too lax, I have come to accept the term from they who matter: my kids. Yesterday, in our first round of “My Room” feedback cards, the kids again highlighted that they appreciate my “chill” and the lack or absence of stress in my room. And, in this, they offered music to my ears. I strive diligently–from the way I build relationships to the way I support learning–to create a less-stress classroom.
So, I am easy? I don’t think so. And for those who harbor doubt, I would eagerly and sincerely invite them to my room to judge for themselves. I don’t think they would find easy. I think they would find chill. I choose chill. Not because it’s less hard for me, but because it is less hard on my kids. I think we can choose to make our kids’ experiences in school less-stressful. So I do. I choose chill.
The world did not stop. It didn’t even pause as 138 kids took ownership of their learning last week in room 206. They took their first Learning Check. They scored it. They responded to what the feedback revealed. They submitted it. I learned from it. They learned from it. We learned from it.
Here’s what I learned from our first Learning Check.
The Learning Check itself was nothing profound. It’s a grammar test. And while it may be a stretch to call the process profound, it was–I believe–at least a powerful first step in getting the kids to take ownership. And a big part of that step was trusting in me and the process. It will take the kids awhile to fully trust my approach, but I think we headed in the right direction, and as we did, the world kept turning. Kids can own their learning. And they will if we let them. This I believe.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…stating themes (Learning Check #2).
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Monday, all. Hope you have a great start to your week.
On day 12, she finally shared. She finally shared during Smiles and Frowns. And it mattered.
As my regular readers know, I am steadfast in my insistence that we have to honor “passing” if we are doing Smiles and Frowns. It, I believe, has to be an act of commitment, not an act of compliance. So, yesterday, when she chose to share, she did it on her own; she did it because she wanted to, not because she had to. And it mattered. Her peers showed her that. They showed her that they were aware that she had not, and they showed her it mattered to them when she did. And I suspect it is likely she will share again based on the response of the community we’ve begun to build.
Twelve days in already connections are being created and barriers are breaking down. Kids are laughing with each other. Kids are empathizing with each other. Kids are “learning each other.” And I attribute that to Smiles and Frowns. I’ve said it before, and I will likely say it again,
“Smiles and Frowns is the best decision I have ever made as a teacher. It is a game changer, a difference maker. And I will never not do it again.”
I am proud of the communities we’ve begun in each of my classes. And while each is different, unique as the kids who populate them, they all have created connections that will take us far not only socially and emotionally but also academically. Smiles and Frowns is not a fringe activity to pass the time in room 206. Smiles and Frowns is the cog of our culture, everything starts and continues from it.
I know I beat this particular drum a bunch, but for me, for the last three years, it has been the spark I have needed to renew my conviction that we can, we will change education, one connection at a time. Call me a dreamer with my head in the clouds, but I believe this–with every fiber of my being. Connections matter. That is beat of my drum. That is the beat of my heart. And the beat goes on.
“Why are we taking a Learning Check tomorrow,” I asked.
“To check our learning,” they replied.
Today, before I give the Learning Check, I will ask the same question. And they, I expect, will give the same response. I will ask the same question every time we take one this year.
It’s a simple start. The kids are identifying subjects, predicates, nouns, and adjectives (I talked about the what and why of it in greater detail in Tuesday’s post, “Trust Trip.” http://www.letschangeeducation.com/trust-trip-project-180-day-10/). I started simply for a reason, for it is a rather different experience for the kids. They are not accustomed to having so much ownership over their learning. They are accustomed to taking tests for the teacher, for their grades. But here there is no grade. Only feedback. Oh, we’ll ferret out the grade eventually–per requirement at the end of the term–but for now, we are simply keeping track of our learning. And it is going to take the kids awhile to get used to my approach. It’s gonna take me awhile. Different is different.
I Invited the Kids to Cheat
Well, “invitation” is probably the wrong word. I guess I told them they can “choose to cheat.” It will be easy enough. There will be answer keys out as the kids finish up at different times and assess their own work. Johnny could just wait until Jimmy has the answer key out and copy down the correct answers. He could. But it doesn’t really buy him much. There is no score. There is only his learning. He has to own that. I provide–am trying to provide–the place and space for that to happen, but the experience will only be as authentic as he makes it. As they all make it. I will not play the hawkish teacher role today, trying to catch cheaters as they take their Learning Checks. I, instead, will simply level with the kids, telling them hey have to make choices as the proprietors of their learning. Their learning.
And with our first Learning Check today, we will take our first giant baby steps into our feedback-only experience in room 206 this year. I am eager to learn with and from the kids today, so I can continue to refine the approach along the way. Today is our first “do” to our next “better.”
In the end we pay the piper. There is always a price to pay. And we pay it. We have to. We’re teachers.
Teaching is a funny thing. And from the outside, it must seem an easy thing. We teach. They learn. We put in our 180 days. We take summers off. So the cycle goes. But a look inside may offer a different glimpse at the job and the price it exacts.
And while I do believe many may see through the outer shell, bearing an understanding of the challenges we daily face, I do not believe those without truly see what it is to teach.
Oh, I am not going to share a laundry list of the myriad challenges we face in our profession. I am not here to complain. No. Only explain. But it’s hard. It is no easy thing to describe the emotional toll teaching takes. But if I were to try, I would likely focus on the “on phenomenon” that is teaching.
Here’s what I mean to mean. I think one of the things that is neither fully seen nor fully understood is how exhausting it is to be “on” all the time. I liken it to five (or more) full theater performances per day as our adrenaline ebbs and flows with the passing of each period. And in each performance we play all parts imaginable: teacher, mentor, adult, friend, kid, parent, counselor, comedian, facilitator, role model, human, manager. The list goes on. And no performance is the same, an impossible impromptu show, stretching our emotional range and testing our technical expertise as the kids give rise, give life to the parts we play. And the play goes on. And on.
And then, at the end, when the last kid walks out the door, the piper comes to collect what’s left–even if there’s nothing left.
For years, even though my wife herself is a teacher and truly gets it, my family has found my exhaustion at the end of the day a little…well, maybe a little exaggerated, but that changed a bit this year. My son is in my class, and as such, he has “seen the inside” a little more closely, recently remarking,
“No wonder you’re so tired at the end of the day. You ‘bring it.'”
And as funny as this may sound, I found some relief in his understanding. He now better understands–hopefully accepts–why I may not have been the best after-school dad all these years. I was tired. I was empty. The piper took much. There was often little left for them. And there was rarely anything left for me.
Of course, I know–I know–this is not exclusive to me. This is every teacher. I am every teacher. Every teacher is me. So, please know that I am not suggesting I pay a higher price than others. I don’t. But I pay a price. We all do. And please know, too, I am not seeking sympathy. I love what I do, and though I have taken measures to better take care of myself and my family–leaving school at school, I can’t help doing what I do, and I suspect that true for all my colleagues, too. We are teachers. We pay a price. We always will.
Maybe I’m a sucker. Maybe I place too much trust in kids. Maybe I am misguided in my thinking that commitment carries the day over compliance. But I gotta feeling, and…well, I trust my gut, and it tells me to trust them. So, I do. I trust my kids. Guess I am on “trust trip” of sorts.
My latest “trust trip” is in the land of assessment and feedback. As most of my followers know, I have worked diligently over the last three years to move grading to the edges and learning to the center, and to do so, I have had to step–sometimes, leap–away from conventional practices. Here is my latest leap.
Our work with the CCSS language standards has resulted in my doing a five-minute daily entry task, which I am calling “Grammar Growth: An exposure and experience model to teaching grammar. I first wrote about it last week in my “Trying to Know” post http://www.letschangeeducation.com/trying-to-know-project-180-day-4/. But that’s not the leap. Grammar entry tasks are nothing new. The leap, if you will, comes at the end.
Every two weeks the kids will take a Learning Check (this is what I call my assessments). This Thursday is their first and it will go something like this.
The kids will identify subjects, predicates, nouns, and adjectives. They will circle the simple subject, underline the simple predicate, write “N” above nouns, and write “ADJ” above the adjectives. No, this is not the leap. In truth, it’s kind of a baby step. Yes, it is “grammar in isolation.” Why? Kids are held to account on their achievement in this on high stakes standardized tests. And though it is not a game I condone, it is a game I will play for five minutes a day to help kids.
The kids will use their notebooks for a resource. They choose to do the daily entry task in their notebooks, knowing that they have the opportunity to build a resource. Choice is trust. I do not make the kids do the entry task. I do not check or collect their notebooks. I encourage them to do outside research and add to their notebooks. They make a choice. Choice is trust.
Once the kids are done with the Learning Check (LC), they will go to the back counter, grab a key, and assess their own work. They will make necessary corrections and complete a “Response to Feedback” form, which has three basic components set up by these questions.
What learning targets did you experience?
What did the feedback reveal?
What did you do as a result of the feedback?
Here the “feedback” is the answer key. These particular LC’s are objective, so there is not much for me to add, so I enlist the kids to check their own work. Well, can’t they just write the correct answers in? Yes. They can choose to do that. And I will tell them as much. I will tell them on Thursday that they can choose to do just that, but I will also tell them that that choice will buy them little. There is no grade. There is a learning record, which, once all parts are complete, will be a 1/1 in Skyward. There is no grade. Only learning. They are called learning checks for a reason. They are opportunities to check learning. The kids have to own that. It is their learning.
So, if I am not scoring these, how will I know how the kids are doing? I’m going to have a sheet on the back counter where kids turn their LC’s in. The sheet will be divided into four columns: subjects, predicates, nouns, adjectives. I will ask the kids to put a tally mark in any column for which they missed an item on the LC. For example, if they did not correctly identify a simple subject, they will place a tally in that column and so on. They tally sheet, in principle, will give me a glimpse into how they are doing as a whole, showing me where we need to spend more or less time. This is a big picture view. Each kid will have a personal snapshot of their performance with their RTF.
This is the plan for now. These LC’s will get into more complicated areas of grammar soon enough, and there will be some items that I will have to assess, but I plan to have the kids take an active part all year long in the assessment–really, in the ownership–of their learning.
A sucker? Maybe. Too much trust? How much is too much? Okay, probably. Okay, yes. I trust kids too much. There, I said it. Does commitment really carry the day? Not sure. But as I think back on my many years of using the “compliance model,” I lived with no less doubt about learning. In truth, it was a constant companion, as I tried in various ways to “make” kids learn with grades. So, I am okay with the doubt of different. It feels more right than wrong. I never did like the power trip. I prefer the trust trip. I’ll keep my compass pointed there.
