New quarter. Final quarter. In-person. Five days a week.

We’re back.

Mostly.

But we’re back. And while back doesn’t mean normal, it does mean closer to normal than we’ve been in over a year.

But I am not even sure what normal was anymore. And so, it is hard to know what is, for what was will likely never be again. And maybe that’s okay, for that may more widely open the doors to betters ahead, making what will be better, if not normal. Regardless of is, was, and will be, I am looking forward to the doing. reflecting, and doing better.

And as I look ahead, I will take with me what lingers from my kids’ latest Learning Letters. Here’s a few gems that meant much to me. Thought I’d share the student view from the 180 classroom, which I always hope is not normal, for normal isn’t better. In here, it can’t be.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Kids are writing their Learning Letters right now. And though they are selecting and supporting their final grades, I want them thinking about learning, not grading. But this is no easy think, for they have been conditioned for the whole of their educational experiences to think of learning in terms of grading. So, yesterday, as they set to the task of helping me make sense of the wreck where learning and grading meet, I shared the following My Room Message and Sappy Sy Rhyme with them.

And I can give grades. I have given grades. Oh, I think I thought kids earned their grades, but that earning was too often conforming to and complying with my grading expectations, which were not always focused on learning. And this resulted in my giving them grades in the disguise of learning.

Learning, on the other hand, cannot be given. Learning is authentic. It happened or it didn’t, and there is one who knows best: the learner. She alone knows what she is carrying forward. And what she has “earned,” she will keep. And I don’t think that can be captured in a mark. I think it is captured in a story, so invite her to share her story, before we engage in the undignified task of making a final mark. And my hope is that as the mark eventually fades, the impression of her learning lingers.

Sorry, out of time. Meant to write more.

Happy Friday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Once upon a classroom (my first year), I was gonna teach my kids responsibility with my no-late-work policy. The world worked on time, and by damn, I was gonna teach ’em. Seventh graders. Twelve-year olds.

Fortunately, this faulty fad faded quickly. But I had not the wisdom to jump to where I am today (no penalties); I had to first fiddle with the full gamut of point and percentage penalties–I tried them all. And slowly but eventually, I wised to better ways, discovering commitment, not compliance was the way in the land of learning. I ask my kids to commit to our work because they find value in it, and as such I do not and never will again penalize practice. But that does not mean I have arrived. In the Project 180 classroom, there’s always a better around the bend. This morning, I took a stroll around the bend.

I will start this next as we begin the new quarter. I will ask all work to be “turned in” on the due date, so there will be no late work. Of course, this does not mean that it will all be complete work, but for the work that’s not complete, I will require a why. I will ask kids who’ve not completed the Learning tASK to provide an explanation in the private comment of the Google Doc for why they did not do/will not do/have not done the work. But doesn’t this start to move back into the realm of compliance? I don’t think so. “Why” is a commitment–for them, and for me. Who’s to know what I might learn from their why’s? Do they feel like the work is irrelevant or too easy? Do they need help? Are they in the clutches of their anxiety? Are there life circumstances that I am not aware of? Are there why’s that I haven’t even considered? Regardless, I want to know why. I can work with why, but I can’t work with empty spaces. And maybe–just maybe–the kids will come to view the work differently when they see they have to chance to regard and own their own choices. We’ll see how it goes. If it doesn’t, then I’ll just venture around the next bend.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

This is probably a longer post than what it’s going to be, but since I am getting a late start this morning, it will have to suffice for now.

I am experimenting. Again. Always. I sense a better around the bend, so I am wont to give chase. So I am.

I have never really been a fan of “I can” learning target statements. I know, how could I not be a fan of can? Everyone’s a fan of can. So, what’s my prob? This. Arrivals and ends are suspect to me. And “I can” suggests an arrival, an end. But I have found these statements to be less “endy” than they really are. “I can.” For how long? Will they be able to Monday after they leave it all on the test on Friday? Will they be able to next year with a new teacher? Will they be able to in different contexts? Will they want to? “We learned that last year.” We’ve heard this from kids countless times, but we seem to discover most times, that they “can’t.” So, maybe they never really could. Maybe they hadn’t arrived. Maybe they were just continuing.

And there’s the experiment. I have long thought and talked about learning being an experience. Even here, I (though I have not during the pandemic) would share at the bottom of my posts a “Today’s Trail” section, a version of my experimental experience targets.

“Along today’s trail we will experience…”

Learning is experiencing. So, with that in mind, I have recently (just this week) begun using “I am” statements with my kids when they talk about their learning experiences.

Fittingly, I am using the present progressive (“to be” + -ing). Kids begin their reflections with “I am…” and then they continue with what I have come to collect and call “Learning Language” (see below).

I am still collecting. It’s in the fledgling stages right now, but for now, this is the progressive path I am presenting to my kids as they learn to talk about their learning.

I have so much more to say about this, and I will, but I am out of time today. Sorry.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

This morning marks a milestone moment for Project 180. This is my 1100th post. Five years ago, when this all began, I never expected that my daily dives would take me this far. And though my daily dives have not been as deep of late (shorter, less-substantive posts), I am proud of my work with Project 180. And as I begin this last little leg of year five, I am eager to devote my full attention to the book that it will become this summer. Till then, though, I will continue to dive and dig for discoveries along the way.

Thank you for all the support. It’s meant much to have you on the journey.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I didn’t do any school work over break. Not a bit. And I am–as off as it may sound to some–proud of that. Once upon a classroom, I could not have managed such a thing–at least not without guilt. There, after all, is a lot to get done. And with third quarter ending this Friday, there is A LOT to get done in a little bit of time. But that no longer pushes or pulls me, and I don’t (as best I can) let it lure me into a guilt trap. Oh, it still tugs a bit, but not enough. I need my break. So, I take my break. And I just pick up where I left off when I get back, for it’s always there when I get back. It doesn’t go anywhere. Will I get everything done this week? Nope. I have already this morning identified some things I can let go, and so I will. And that’s been the key, I think: learning to let go. Wish I had learned it earlier in my career. Sometimes doing nothing is everything.

Happy Monday, all. Good to be back.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

A break. A time to breathe. A time to be. Spring break! Yipee!

Happy Friday, all. See you after break.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Somewhere there’s a teacher who probably needs to know that we, too, have been, are, and will be the teacher somewhere who needs to hear we are not alone. So, this morning, on a bit of whim, I started #WeToo on Twitter.

I, you, we are not alone. We have to remember that.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

But how long can they drink once we’ve showed them the water?

I am not a fan of the horse-to-water proverb use in education. Never have been. It puts too much–maybe all–on the kids. It presumes that we have done all that we can, and the rest is up to them. But have we? And what does that mean? We gave them an assignment and some directions? Is that where our “leading ends? Seems it should go on. Seems since we are holding the proverbial reins, our responsibility goes beyond and continues after we show them the water. Have we ever asked ourselves why thirsty kids won’t drink? What if they need to hang out at the water hole for a little longer than we planned? Will we wait? What if they’ve drunk before, only to get a mouthful of sand as they discover the mirage they’ve been led to?

Yes, mirages. The work that’s not relevant. The lack of continued support and feedback beyond assignment and direction. The penalty points. No opportunities to redo, retake, or correct. There are many mirages in the School Realm to which we lead our kids. Kids will drink, even deeply, if we lead them to water. Heck, we may even discover that if we let loose the reins they may splash around and play in it.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.