Monthly Archives: September 2021

Project 180

Help Wanted: Project 180 (Week 4, Year 6)

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Better Learning

How can I make asking for help a strength, not a weakness?

It should be the easiest act in the classroom, asking for help. After all, it’s why we are there. To help. And for me, it’s the act that makes me most feel like a teacher. It’s satisfying. It’s gratifying.

So, then, one might think that I am living the dream here in my room, satisfied and gratified to the nth degree. But one would be wrong. If my happiness hinged on help alone, I would be deeply depressed, for as important as it is, the want of help is in short demand. And so the supply goes to waste, and I am left to lament the loss.

Kids don’t/won’t ask for help. For a quarter century in the classroom I have been confounded by this. Why won’t kids ask for help? Surely they need it. Surely I can provide it. But it just seems to hover there in the air among and around us, an apparition never fully materializing to its full power and potential. And for years, this has haunted me.

And over the years in moments of manic motivation, I have sought to bring the ghost to life, to animate and activate the super natural, for it should be super natural, to ask for help–as natural as breathing. So, I try–too often in vain–to breathe life into Help.

This week, now four weeks beyond the quarter-century mark in the classroom, I tried once again to breathe some life into the incorporeal.

But this wasn’t any old, off-the-shelf, ordinary help. This was help on an assessment, a Learning Check. Can we help them on assessments? Surely, we never would have expected, much less asked, for help on a test when we were in school; it was an assessment of our learning. It would skew the results. And it is this very notion that I carried with me for far too long when I entered the classroom as the help holder. I had to “hold my help” in times like this, for how could I accurately label and sort my kids if I gave them help?

But times have changed. And so have my prepositions. Fortunately, I graduated from “of” to “for,” and I began to regard learning and teaching differently, and I became less “holdy” with my help as I embraced assessment for learning. The whole idea was to give the assessment to determine the necessary help for learning. But as endearing as my new preposition was, I learned to love another: as.

Assessment as learning. I give assessments, Learning Checks, as a necessary nutrient for growth. It is in this place where we meet as teacher and learner. It is our work. And no work is the same, for no learner is the same, and for each learner, I have to become a different teacher. Teaching is responding to the needs of kids, and it is here where we–the kids and I–create the opportunity for me to respond, for me to help. So, then, are you saying you are helping kids? Yes, but I am not saying that they are asking for it. And I want them to ask for it when they need it. I don’t only want it to happen after they’ve done. I want it to happen, too, while they do. And why shouldn’t it. It’s in the active part of the process, and maybe–just maybe–it’s better placed there, where and when they need it. I am not seeking to sort and label kids with assessment. I am seeking to join them in their learning with my teaching.

And this week, on a whim, I decided to meet them there in their learning with a “live” lifeline. In Google Classroom, kids can send me private comments “live” while they are taking the assessment. I have my notifications turned on, so when they send me a comment, I get a “ding.” And I can respond immediately–to whatever they need. I didn’t restrict what they could ask. What they need should not and, in my class, will not be determined by what I am willing to offer. So, I told them to let their needs determine the ask. In the end, I am going to help them anyway with my feedback. As such, I saw no reason why I couldn’t–shouldn’t–join them earlier in the feedback/response process. And, because it’s there in the comments, we will have already begun capturing their learning stories with a record of our interactions.

Did they flood me with requests for help? Nope. Still a stigma, I’m afraid. Still a weakness, asking for help. And one crazy idea isn’t going to change that right away. But it’s early. Lots of learning ahead. Lots of opportunities to bring help to life. If nothing else, it was an important step to frame help differently, to increase the demand for what is in great supply: my help. Waiting for their want.

Happy weekend, all. Hope you are safe and sane during this crazy time. Take care.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Project 180

For “F’S” Sake: Project 180 (Week 3 Year 6)

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Better Learning

#17-How can I better the feedback/response process?

This week I am going to discuss one of the original “Better Building” questions I posed from the Better Builder series back in August. Twenty-six years in, I am still seeking my authentic answer to this key question about learning and teaching. I am still seeking to make the feedback/response process a sacred ritual in the classroom, that place (that sweet spot) of teaching and learning where growth happens. This is how I explain that place to my kids.

I haven’t taught you anything. Yet. I have assigned a tASK. I have provided some direction. I have given a few examples. But, really, I haven’t done what I am here to do: respond to you. In short, if I haven’t given you feedback, I haven’t supported your growth. You can’t grow without the necessary nutrients found only in feedback. So, my friends, that is the table where we must meet to eat.

Second only to Smiles and Frowns, bettering the feedback/response process is the most important work I do. As such, most of what I do is for Feedback’s sake (for “F’s” sake). And the majority of that “most” is finding ways to get kids to meet me there, so we can continue there. And that begins with an invitation.

.7

What is .7 in Skyward?

I have posed this prompt to my kiddos all week. Their response:

It’s an invitation.

It’s not a 70%. It’s not a C. It’s an invitation to continue based on the feedback I have provided. It’s a signal that there’s still learning on the table; there’s still grub for growth.

Of course, though their responses are becoming rote, it will take some time for them to settle in to this space that I am trying to create for them–for us. They first heard about it in the Learning Experiences document I shared with them on day one.

Okay, some truth. Yes, I suppose–technically–it does register as a 70% C in Skyward, but I am trying to change that, too. Well, at least the mindset. Thus, the mantra.

Skyward is not my grade book. It is a tool for communicating learning

One of the major obstacles to getting kids (and parents–and educators) to think differently about learning is to get them to think differently about grading. And for that we have to sit at a different table with different food, the only food we need: feedback.

And so, this is how I attempt to set the table for my kids as I seek to better the feedback/response process in our shared experience. It’s where have to get to in our work, for it is our work.

Happy Saturday, all. Hope you are well. See ya next week.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Uncategorized

Sorry, We’re All Out of None: Project 180 (Week 2, Year 6)

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Better Learning

How can I leverage my kids’ levels of commitment?

This has become my front-and-center “Better Builder” question to which I am seeking my own authentic answer. Still seeking. But in my seeking, I am inching closer–I think. I hope.

I ended last week’s post by giving you a glimpse of what I am calling my “Levels of Learning Commitment,” which is but a part of the larger scheme for my “Select-and-Support” approach to determining a final grade. Really, this work, this idea, began last winter when I first floated the idea of not offering any grades lower than a C in my classes (C to See, Might As Well Jump, and The Table We Set).

As ever, I was seeking to minimize grading to maximize learning, and I decided to eliminate D and F grades in my classes, leaving a C as the lowest letter to name learning at the end. But it also gave rise to another name, “Commitment.” As my longtime readers know, commitment v. compliance has been an ongoing battle in the Project 180 journey. I loathe the latter (compliance). And I champion commitment as the necessary component of any authentic learning experience. So, it was with commitment on my mind that I created the “levels” below. Of course, as with all my “betters,” work remains, but at the 11th hour I had to come up with something, and just days before this year began, I settled on this approach to meet my kids in their learning this year.

I wanted “commitment” at the center. I wanted “commitment” out in front of us. But what did–does–that really mean? The answer began with a look to the evidence, the support in the “Select-and-Support” approach I take with my kids. At the end of the term, the kids write a “Learning Letter,” which I call, “My Learning, My Story.” Learning is a story. And as I thought about their learning experiences in my room–in any room (now or later), their commitment to their learning becomes central to their experience. So, I wanted to more intentionally make that our focus throughout our time together–beginning with the beginning.

As such, last week when I asked the kids to create their “Deck of Cards,” I asked them to save their “Commitment Card” for the end. I told them that we would complete that one together. And so, on Friday, I asked them to consider the levels of commitment in the larger context of their learning experiences, and then I asked them to indicate their level of commitment to me at the outset of our journey this year, so when we literally lay their cards on the table in our “Meet-Me” meetings, I know where I am joining them in an important part of their own journey. To that end, I asked them to simply write the letter of their commitment on the card. And they did. And I think we are clear on what it means. And I think that’s a good start, but if I am an honest, it’s not all good. There’s plenty I do not love about this approach.

First, the letter. I hate that I cannot fully get away from grading. Yes, I have reduced its impact significantly, and I will continue my work in this regard, but I am still not free from it. But, it’s the currency, the language of the system, so I have to conform some. So, I do, but grudgingly.

Second, the focus on effort and completion. I feel like it steers dangerously near “compliance.” But it also captures commitment. Learning is not about focusing on effort. But it’s not not about focusing on effort, either. Our work–my students’ and mine–requires work. I can’t work (teach) until they work. Thus, it is a big part of the story. And my including it was–even if it’s not obvious–about commitment and not compliance. I think how I am reconciling it in my own mind is that there is only value added by their efforts. There is no value taken away by their lack of effort (no penalty). This is what I am telling myself for now.

Of course, there are other points to make about what I don’t love, but this post is dragging on some, and I haven’t even gotten to my point: How do I leverage my kids’ levels of commitment? I will am coming to this, but first.

Their level of commitment drives my level of commitment. If a kid indicates a level of C, then that compels me to respond with a support level of A. I am not letting the C kids off the hook. On the contrary, I am using it as an opportunity to understand how far I must go to meet them where they are ( a C is far). If the goal is for all to get an A, which it is and I tell my kids as much, then a C simply means I have to “level up” my support for that kiddo. And this, essentially, is how I have sold “Commitment” to them.

And because I have framed it as such, when I engage them on their levels of commitment, I feel as if I can better come from place of honesty–that, indeed, we have all our cards on the table. That we understand each other.

To that point, last week when the kids and I were talking about effort and completion of our tASKs from the week, I reminded them of their choices: all, most, and some of the work, not none of the work. We did not agree to that, for it was not a choice. No “none” in here. And it seemed to register. There was no none. There was only all, most, and some–each wearing the size that fit.

Perfect? Nope. Better? Maybe. Time will tell, but time will also compel better. Lots of doing, reflecting, and doing better ahead. Here’s one better I created and captured last week in an effort to raise my level of support.

This is generated from my “Support Cycle” poster I presented last spring. I will write more about it later, but it is just one way I am trying to meet my kids in their learning.

Happy Sunday, all. Thank you for letting me muck around in my thinking a little bit. Long ways to go on this, but maybe it will help you consider some of your own “Better-Building” questions as you seek your own authentic answers. See you all next week.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Project 180

Meet ME: Project 180 (Week 1, Year 6)

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And Project 180, Year 6 is underway. As I recently shared in “A New Path,” my posts this year will be weekly instead of daily as I devote my weekday mornings to finishing my book. So, then, on Saturday mornings this year I will publish a “week-in-review” post which focuses on two areas: Better Learning and Better Community, each introduced with a “Better-Builder” question to which I am seeking my own authentic answer.

This week, because it was such a short week and I have a lot to share about learning, I will not share about community (though community and connections are never not near when I am working on learning). And of course, my go-to play with better community always centers itself in Smiles and Frowns, which has already begun working its magic three days in. But this week, let’s talk learning.

Better Learning

How can I more authentically meet each of my kids where and as they are in their own learning journeys?

“Meet” is going to be a key word in the Project 180 work this year. It is where I will find each. As I have said in the past, I don’t have high, low, or medium kids; I have where-they-are kids. And where they are is where I have to meet them.

Above are the My Room Message and the Sappy Sy Rhyme I shared with my kids on Thursday. I compose a new message and rhyme each day (message to begin, rhyme to end) to connect with kids around the big ideas that shape our experience. Here, I wanted to connect with them around the notion of “where’s” place in our work. I want them to know that where they are is the only place we can meet. They are where they are. They are who they are. And that is where I where and how I will meet them

But to meet them, I have to know them–as students, as humans. And to that end, I am trying something new this year with “Cards on the Table.”

From here, kids made their deck of cards using the 3X5 cards I gave them. Nine total for now. We may add new cards later, but this is where we’ll begin.

And we need to begin with a bit of honesty. We, indeed, need to “put our cards on the table” if we are going to authentically meet each other in our work. I am not sure the kids have fully grasped my plan here, and I am not sure they fully trust me enough yet to let me see all their cards, but I am sure that this is an important first step towards their “where.”

Now that the cards are made, this is how they will be played. In an effort to meet kids, I will meet kids (conference with them) regularly, which means I will have a calendar with scheduled times to meet each kid in their learning. I am going to call them “Meet Me” meetings. They will be five minutes in length. And we will meet where they are by having a conversation. And each time we meet, their cards will literally be on the table–really, then, a symbol for our being there in their where.

Of course, I will “meet” kids in their work and in their worlds more frequently than the scheduled conferences, but I have learned better from my past years and mistakes that if I don’t create and stick to a schedule, time and intent get away from me, so the calendar is a commitment to stick to the plan this year (and I will ask the kids to hold me accountable).

I want this to be–to them and me–a sacred time. Our time. Where we meet. Where I find them, so I can support them. And in that sacred frame, we will create an opportunity for authentic accountability, meaning that if I am not meeting them, I am not supporting them. And whether they speak it directly or not, I will imagine their words on the wind, “Meet me, Sy. That’s where I am.”

Next week, I will talk more about the “Commitment Card” in their deck. But for now, if any are curious, I am chasing an idea around the idea of teaching and learning being a shared commitment and using that as our map and measure for making sense of learning at the end (see below).

Happy Saturday, all. So glad you are joining me again this year. See ya next weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.