“Get a cup of water.”

This was part of our lesson plan yesterday. Some already had it at their desks with them. Others had to run to the kitchen or wherever to get something to drink…well, to hold. I held my coffee.

Then we watched this video clip.

And then we watched this video that I made on Screencastify. Well, my self-paced kiddos watched it. I just spoke it to my teacher-paced kiddos live on Zoom.

And that’s the walk for my talk. Last week, I talked a big game to kids about stress being an unwelcome guest on our journey. This week, I am trying to live up to that promise. I do, indeed, want them to “put down the class” when a lack of clarity has led to confusion, turned to frustration, and produced stress. Of course, I am not suggesting there is no value in the productive struggle–there is. But I am suggesting that when the struggle is no longer productive, it is time to reach out to me for help. I have taught long enough in the “best of situations” to know that what I think is crystal clear in terms of direction is clear as mud on the other side, and when there is a screen between and distance divides, the likelihood of a lack of clarity is greater. And I want kids to know that I bear the responsibility of making things clear for them. Yes, it is often their “fault” for various reasons (didn’t read the directions, opened the wrong document, etc.), and yes, I could put it back on them and “teach them responsibility,” but that’s not how I roll. I would rather the kids learn responsibility by acknowledging they need help and seeking it.

Is it more work? Yep. No two ways about it. But it’s my work. It’s what I am here for. It’s what I am trained for. Yes, it’s work. Yes, it’s inconvenient. But I discovered long ago, that teaching is not about convenience; it’s about service. But shouldn’t there be a limit? Yes. Absolutely. We all have limits, and right now those limits are being put to the test in ways we never imagined. But for 8 hours a day, I try to be limitless. I bend for kids. I almost break for kids, but I haven’t broken yet, and after 25 years, I don’t think I will. Because. Because, at the end of the day, I find my limits and I try to live them. No emails. No paperwork. Unless there is an emergency–and I have come to learn and live, that there are no emergencies when it comes to school, it can wait. We know this. And I strive to get my kids to understand this. Most “emergencies” are only so because of the “constructs” we have created. Deadlines can be moved. Penalties prevented. Grades changed. In truth, we can all “put down the class.” And just as we can put it down, we can pick it up. It’ll be there in the morning. In my 25, there never was a day it wasn’t waiting for me.

Happy Wednesday, all. Be safe.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

“I’m glad I asked.”

For a teacher there is a certain satisfaction in the question asked. It conjures our craft. It is a spoken spell that animates action. It breathes into our being. And from it, we rise.

Yesterday, one of my self-paced kiddos asked a question that in the end saved her some unnecessary work. It would not have been too much, and it certainly would have done no harm, but it wasn’t necessary. And while I am glad that our interaction saved her some labor, I am more glad that we reached an early milestone of understanding in our shared journey: the power of the question.

In my experience as a teacher, it is the question that gives meaning to the serve and support aspect of teaching. If teaching is responding, then questions are necessary. Our learners have to ask questions. But, also in my experience, I have found that kids don’t ask enough questions–for various reasons. And so, without, my ability to serve and support is diminished. So, I seek the question. I invite it–enthusiastically.

And this year at a distance, I have asked for the “ask” more earnestly than ever. It is so hard to know when the screen separates. I need to know. I need them to ask questions.

Yesterday wasn’t about saving a young lady some extra effort. It was about elevating and substantiating the power and purpose of the question. She asked. I responded. We built trust. I trust that she will now ask when she needs help. And she, I believe, will trust that I will respond, that I will honor our agreement,

“Let’s agree that it’s always best to ask”

Always ask so I may always answer. I can live into that.

Happy Tuesday, all. Stay safe and sane.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

And then the smoke showed up. Sheesh, it really is one challenge after another. And though I am trying to remain stoic and see such things as opportunities to find the better from the “obstacle,” this latest challenge has been a bit of a setback for me. I rely on the weekends to get outside, to get some necessary fresh air and exercise, but our having hazardous air conditions all weekend due to the numerous wildfires here in the West put a damper on my routine.

And this morning, things still haven’t changed. In fact, we are actually doing “distance learning” from home because the buildings’ air quality is unsafe for occupancy in our district. If we were in a normal school situation, school would have been cancelled today. A “smoke day.”

So, we will have to manage from home today. And we will. There are folks experiencing far more challenging things out there, but the addition of just yet another challenge to face and endure takes its toll on all of us.

Happy Monday, all. Stay safe.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Yesterday evening I tweeted the following.

To my longtime followers, this view is nothing new. I have been trying to change the conversation in order to change education for some time now, especially around the topic of grading. It’s why I started Project 180 five years ago when I abruptly interrupted the conventional experience in my classroom by giving all kids an “A” on the first day. And from there, both in my head and in my classroom, the conversation has never been the same.

Here is how I will continue the “grading” conversation with my kiddos this year.

Of course, the conversation is a little tougher this year with our current distance-learning model, but it’s still at the center of our work. It’s just gonna take students and parents a little longer to learn the lingo. But I am committed to the conversation that I believe has to happen to change the system. We can change the script.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I fear I feel a tremble. Slight. Subtle. But it’s there. I feel it.

I feel it in the frantic, frenetic moments of preparation before the day’s online launch, as I cross my fingers, hoping that nothing goes wrong.

I feel it from the disconnected distance across the screen, as I weigh their eyes and mouths, wondering if I am only imagining their presence.

I feel its palpable pallor as I pass my colleagues masking their mouths and misery, our common company.

I feel it in my foundation as I wake to the wind on the day’s horizon, threatening my stoic stand, sure that it’s only the “obstacle in the way.”

I feel it. I fear it.

I face it. We all do. We have to. We are teachers. What else would we do, could we do? So much depends on our steady stand as the winds swirl around our house of cards.

I feel a fear. And though I will put on my mask today for my kids, my colleagues–myself, inside I feel a fear that we may get swept away. There’s a wolf on the wind.

Sorry for the downer post this morning, all. Struggling some. Struggling more to know that my struggle is shared. And as much as I want to say and believe, “we got this,” there would be little conviction behind it this morning. So, I won’t.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Why do we make it so complicated? Seems it should be simpler. So, I am trying to make it simpler. In truth, I have been trying for some time, and this year, I am trying again to simplify that which we tend to make overly complicated: teaching and learning. Here is my latest iteration of simplification.

I will share this with my kids today as we begin our journey, as we begin our work. And as we do, I want them to understand that our work is really as simple as coming together to find better. We have a destination in mind. We are going to try to get there. I will ask them to do some things along the way, so I can support their progress. And, in the end, we will get where we get.

Overly simple? I don’t think so. In fact, I am betting on it, and it’s a bet that doesn’t really feel all that risky. We are just humans coming together to learn and grow. Seems simple enough. So it’s the path I aim to follow this year. And, of course, I will share what I learn right here.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns

…discussing how we will simplify our learning journey this year.

…reflecting on and discussing what motivates us as individuals.

…considering and critiquing others’ views on motivation.

…engaging unfamiliar words in text.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all. Thank you for being here.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Good morning, all. Day four but really day one since I will finally be with kids today. Well, from a distance anyway. It’s gonna be different. It’s gonna be a challenge. But, as I said in my post last week, “It’s gonna be okay.”

But, make no mistake, it’s gonna be different.

Most notably, for me, will be how we connect. As many , connections are huge part of my approach, and using platforms like Zoom will be a challenge to this essential component in the 180 classroom. It will be a challenge for me, for them, for us. But together we will face it, and daily we will get better at it. As such, here are the expectations that I put together for my kids, for our community.

They are not terribly original in sense of the “what,” and I know that. They serve the general purpose of such interactions across the expanse of Zoomland. However, I did try to frame them in a way that fit my idea for the community I long to create. As most know, I am no fan of compliance, preferring commitment from my kids, so I tried to present them in a way that created some context and comfort for my kiddos, and from there I hope we really do achieve the 4 C’s.

Community. Communication. Commitment. Connection.

That’s no different. These have always been pillars in the 180 classroom. What’s different is how we will go about creating them as we journey forth into the land of Zoom.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…meeting and greeting.

…framing our journey.

…sharing some of our story.

…learning the value of mistakes (I will model that well today, I am sure. Hey, it’s for the kids)>

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Glad you are all here. It helps to know that I will not be alone on this strange trip. Thank you.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Hey, all. Not even sure where to begin. For a time, I was not even sure I was going to begin. But I am here, and I have begun. Even if it’s three days late, Project 180, Year 5 has begun.

And what a beginning. Of course, it’s not the one I had hoped for as we wrapped our strange time up last spring. I had hoped, then, that we would be back to normal by now, but that hope never happened. The world is still strange, and I still find myself at a “distance” from my kids.

Here in Cheney we have started the year with a hybrid-distance model. Students and families could select a teacher-paced or a self-paced path. I only have three classes (90 minute periods), but we will get a year done in one semester. I will have the other half of my kids next semester. Two of my classes are teacher-paced. The other class is self-paced. This week, we have started the year with three days of orientation meetings on Zoom. But I didn’t realize (in the strangeness) that we had officially begun; thus, the delay on getting started with my Project 180 posts. Sorry that I wasn’t on top of it. But as I have said, and as you know…well, things are strange.

But, we’re gonna be okay. And I believe that. Things are gonna be tough for awhile, but I am not going to let that ruin the year before it’s even begun. In 180 fashion, things will get better because that’s what we do, and even though we will struggle in the days and weeks ahead, we will struggle forward to “better” for our kids. I believe in better. I believe in us. And that’s why I know we are going to be okay. And that is the message I tried to send to my kids in the letter below.

And the journey has begun. And, as always, I am grateful that you have joined me here again this year. I am sorry I was absent all summer, and I am more sorry that I didn’t start on day one. But I am here now.

Have a great day, all. Hope you find a better.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.