I am not sure how I feel here at this place, at this moment. I am not sure how I expected to feel at the end of a five-year journey that I never really planned to take (at least not for five years). Originally, it was a two-year plan, but at the end of year two, better still beckoned, and so I kept going, and with each passing year, I’ve just kept chasing better around the bend. And now, at this place of pause, I have still found no end to the bend. Better is still ahead.

But I know “better” better than I did, and at this place, I am going to try to capture its elusive essence in my book, Better: A Teacher’s Journey. And so no end, never an end, just a next better, which will take me from blog to book as I sit down each morning this summer to retrace my steps over the last five years–a journey into a journey.

Of course, here where I have arrived, I would like to believe I am not alone, that you, the many, who’ve supported my journey, are here along with me, beside me–as you have been and will hopefully continue to be, for I could not have gotten here without you. And for that I am deeply grateful. Thank you.

Will I continue the blog next fall? I don’t know. I don’t want to make that decision right now. I want to take the time to wipe the dust off my travel weary bones before this next significant leg in my journey. I want to fully focus on the book, and from there, we will see where my next better takes me.

And with that, I will bid you adieu. This will be the final post of year five. Thank you, again and again, for making this long trip with me. I hope I find something worthy of your attention as I set off to explore the realm of writing a book about better.

Have a wonderful summer, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

A final day of kindness today. Wednesdays are “Kindness Cards” days, (see Kindness Connects). And this year, though it came late in the year, Kindness Cards have seemed to play a more important role than ever. Each week I am amazed at how enthusiastically and authentically kids engage in this activity. I love how they have come to “read the room,” making sure no one is left out. It is just another connection creator that honors the humans in the room.

And I will miss these particular humans a great deal. More, I think–I know–they will miss each other, too. We will all miss “us.” And it’s not only a guess on my part. I know because they tell me, and the last few days, as the end draws near, they have begun to tell me even more. In fact, it’s been a regular “frown” this week.

Frown: I’m gonna miss this class.

Yes, we all are.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

It’s a game I no longer play, but it’s a game I played for longer than I care to admit. It’s a game we’ve all played. The grade game.

I write more about the “grade game” in my upcoming book. And while I wish I had given myself the time to write more about it this morning, my real reason for posting this was to put at the ease the minds of my colleagues around the world who are being forced to play their hand in the grading game here at the end of the school year. They have to reconcile the rules and the room. And many do, even maybe most. In my 25 years I have discovered whether we call it the “grade doctor” or the “grade fairy,” many feel compelled to set right the wreck that happens when learning and grading collide at the end. At first we do it quietly, for fear that we may be upsetting the grading gods, but as time goes on and we discover that others do it, too, we proceed with less fear, and we, in a number of ways, fix the wreck for kids at the end. We have to.

Malpractice? I don’t think so. It’s not a whim upon which we act. It’s a why. We know there’s a problem with the game. And until we fix the problem, we can’t let kids be the losers in a game that’s rigged not in their favor. And the fact that so many of us “manage the margin” indicates to me–and hopefully others–that we have to do this, and more, we have to be okay with our doing it. For we are not alone.

We work in a broken system. And while our “managing the margin” in our rooms is not the final fix, it is a band-aid to cover the wounds inflicted upon kids when they get caught in the malfunction of our machine. It is the necessary first-aid we must apply out here in the field.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Today, my kiddos will begin writing their learning letters (“My Learning, My Story”). It is time for them to look back on their experiences over the past several weeks and make sense of where they have arrived as learners. And from that sense-making, they will select (and support with their evidence) a final grade in a letter to me. And that is where we meet in the end, when it comes to making sense of the wreck where learning and grading collide. We (mostly they) find and name that place.

As my longtime readers know, the goal is to reach an agreement on a final mark, based on the available evidence, which necessarily is not limited to the record in Skyward. It takes into account many variables that come into play for each kid in their experience, things that maybe aren’t readily seen or understood without the perspective of the learner. They know best their experience, and so, I ask them to reveal that to me in their reflection from their time with me.

This is my fourth year of using “select-and-support” grading with my kiddos. And while it has taken different forms as it has evolved, at its center has remained the belief that learners must be engaged in the process of determining a final grade. It’s their learning. It’s their story. They have to tell it. They have to play a role in making sense of mess the where learning and grading collide.

Happy last Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Morning, all. Afraid I don’t have a lot to contribute to the conversation this morning–other than a couple of tweets about support, that place where learning meets teaching.

I think the “S” word has to be part of any and all conversations in education. Teaching is supporting.

Happy Friday, all. Sorry I didn’t have more to offer this morning. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Seniors last day yesterday. One of them handed me this letter.

It ain’t me. It IS Smiles and Frowns: the best and most important decision I have ever made in my career. It creates connections in ways that I never expected, and “family” is not a strange word in the 180 Classroom.

But is that my job? To “create families.” Yes, I think it is. And that very thought is what led to the thread I posted in Twitter this morning.

And I believe that to the core of my being. Smiles and Frowns will change–will better–the world.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Where are you in the support cycle?

I don’t believe in lines. I believe in circles. In fact, my work is predicated on the spin, on the cycle. Do, Reflect, and Do Better are spokes in a wheel, not signs on a line. Learning is a cyclical process.

And that belief is at the center of this latest circle spinning ’round in my head with Teaching Targets.

Today, I will support your experience with (insert standard) by meeting you where you are in your learning.

• I will help you get started if you need a boost.
• I will clarify the directions for you.
• I will provide a reason(s) for why we are doing this.
• I will provide examples for you.
• I will model the process for you.
• I will provide resources for you.
• I will modify the task or provide an alternative.
• I will provide feedback to get you through the process.
• I will provide extra time.

I’m sure there are others that will come to mind as I build my support list for next year, a list (presented as a circle), which I imagine will have a permanent place on the wall of my room and the “walls” of my kiddos’ notebooks. And I imagine I will sit with them and ask them, “Where are you in the support cycle?” And they will have at their fingertips ways to ask for my support. And that is the crux of the Teaching Targets: my support.

I am still thinking my way through this, but this is the gist of where I plan to head with Teaching Targets next year.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Today, I am going to support your experience with (insert standard) by…

…meeting you where you are in your learning.

Where I am in my teaching teaching needs to be where they are in their learning–each of them.

And where they are is the only place they can be. But it is not enough that I understand that. My kids have to understand this. And I think to that end, we have to dismantle the system. We have to lose the labels.

Apparently, others share my sentiment. I tweeted this out early last Friday morning as I was reflecting on meeting kids with Teaching Targets. But I did not expect it to get the attention that it has in the Twitterverse. With nearly 4,000 likes and over 500 retweets, it suggests that many acknowledge the problem with labels, but it has to go beyond our acknowledging it. It has get to a place of changing it, of dismantling the systemic structures that force the fit. We have to approach the learning experiences differently, and that is what I am trying to do with Teaching Targets.

Today, I will support your experience with (insert standard) by meeting you where you are in your learning.

From there, I then imagine a list of ways that I will articulate my supports to kids. And I will get to that tomorrow. Sorry to drag this out. Still thinking my way through it.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Hey, good morning, all. Gonna postpone the next installment of “Targeting Teaching.” My brain’s tired this morning. So, please pardon my pause, as I take a Friday bow and wish everyone a weekend of wellness. Be back on Monday, and I will continue my discussion on Teaching Targets.

Happy Friday.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.