I weave a web. I attach a string here. I attach a string there. Some I leave for later. Some I cling to now. Some will never connect. Others will attach and connect in ways I never expect. I am at once random and manipulative in my craft. Sometimes I pursue. Other times I wait. But I am at all times an opportunist. I take advantage when I can, a truth for which I bear equal parts shame and pride. For it is not always easy to reconcile one’s manipulation of others. And though I’d like to believe that my intentions are always honorable and selfless, I am not always sure, for the line is thin. Either way, yesterday, I took advantage.

It was my first bad day of the year. And it won’t be my last. As to why, the list is long. But suffice to say, the parts equal a telling sum: I am human. Most days, I can stave off this annoying truth by donning a Superman shirt, rising to the occasion for my kids, summoning super-human energy and patience for those I serve. But some days, the shirt doesn’t matter. Some days, I don’t even try. Yesterday, was one of those days, and my spinnerets had a mind of their own.

First thread. Smiles and Frowns. I shared a frown, revealing that it was on off day for me.

Second thread. An apology. I apologized to the kids for not having their essays done, remarking that my actions never caught up with my intentions over the weekend.

Third thread. Journey Journal. On most days, we reflect on academic things. Yesterday, I asked the kids to title their entries, “Advice.” I then prompted them to consider and share what advice they would give to someone who was having a bad day. I, next, asked them to underline a key phrase and share aloud with the class. Selfishly, I needed to hear it. It mattered to me coming from them. Consciously, I knew I was not the only one who would benefit, for I was not the only one to share a Monday frown. In truth, I was one of many.

Fifth period presented an unexpected thread. Fifth is after lunch, and it is not always my most productive class. Lovely kids, but kids all the same, and sometimes, especially on a Monday, they are not my most motivated kiddos. Yesterday, was no exception. I gave a few gentle reminders throughout the period to get to work. “Gentle” in my mood was a good choice, for it is not fair to project my mood onto the kids, especially in ways that would be out of character. It’s not their fault that I was grumpy. But seeing an opportunity, I changed the Journey Journal prompt to, “Imagine a good-natured teacher who after some time the kids began to take advantage of his good will, and despite his gentle nudgings to get to work, the students continued to waste their time…” I then asked them what advice they would give that teacher for how to motivate his kiddos. Their responses were golden. Message sent. Message received. Thread connected.

Fourth thread. Mindset Mantra. Our mantras shifted to beginning with “we” this week. Our first mantra, “We are valued members of this community,” was resonant, even if only unconsciously as we heard ourselves and others say that we mattered. We have been speaking this in different iterations for weeks now (“you,” then “I,” now “we”).

Fifth thread. Sappy Sy Rhyme. I have been doing this for two weeks now. I end each period with a sappy, want-you-to-know-you-matter message. I want to have the last word, and I want that last word to stick as the wheel turns and the twenty-three hour countdown begins till I see them next.

Earlier threads.

From Student Letter.

I hope you discover the value of community and the power of empathy. Though our learning journeys are unique, we all travel similar paths. When we come to realize that through our similar trails we share a bond, we begin to understand that we are not alone, that we can learn with others, that we can learn from others. When we connect with others, we learn. When we connect with others, we can understand. We will connect. We are a community.

From “Roles, Routines, Rights, and Responsibilities.

Role #2: Valued Community Member. This is your second most important role. At present, many of us are not well-acquainted, but we are in this together either way. And as we will spend a lot of time together both struggling and celebrating over the days to come, my hope is that we establish a community that is rich in relationships and in excess of empathy. We are a community.

Yesterday, I needed the kids. I needed their understanding. I needed their empathy. It was about me. I cannot deny that. But, too, I think it’s bigger than that. Though it is a web I weave, it is also a net I build, a community I create to catch us when we fall, to support us when we need it. And we’re all gonna need it, even those of us who hide behind t-shirts.

I didn’t “teach” anything yesterday as I sat at my desk scrambling to get kids feedback on their narratives. But I do think there were opportunities to learn, opportunities to learn things that won’t be on the state assessment come spring, but things that will be on their horizons as they step through the human experience, now and later, threads in their webs. In the end, our web.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…continue working on our writing.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Today, we are writers. The kids are working on two pieces of writing at present: their narrative essays and their Passion Papers. I am behind on getting feedback to them on their narrative essay introductions, so I am going to ask them to work on their Passion Papers today while I work on feedback. Over the weekend, I devised a plan to expedite the feedback process by creating a feedback guide, a list of my commonly-made comments, coding each with a number (see  below).

I had to come up with something like this. It takes too long to write these comments on one-hundred-twenty essays, and if I am writing the same comments over and over, why not simplify? Plus the kids can’t read my crappy handwriting anyway, so at least now they can actually read the comments. I will provide each writer with a half-page feedback guide, circling the numbers that pertain to their particular piece. It’s funny how, even though I know this will be faster and productive, I feel like I am somehow “shirking” on my duties by not writing comments. I know I am not, but it bugs me anyway. In truth, something had to give. I am woefully behind already, and I can’t spend all weekend doing this type of stuff, and I could. But what’s sad, is that even if I did, I would only be less behind, not done. I have to recharge, and I have to step away from the work at times. My hope is that little tweaks like this will help me find some balance.

As the kids continue writing today, I am going to introduce some “tricks of the trade” to help them develop some capacity as writers. I will do a brief mini-lesson on the “tricks” that I adapted and developed (see below).

I will then ask the kids for forgiveness for my being behind, and then we will all set to work.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…change to “we” instead of “I” for Mindset Mantras.

…continue working on our writing.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

And that’s our Monday. Short week. No school for kids on Friday, so I will modify the schedule a bit. No “Life is Lit” this week. Will have a short sentence performance on Thursday, and then the kids will get some promised personal-reading time after that. Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Despite my efforts to shift my kids’ mindsets about “tests,” many still harbor old notions of tests in the classroom, which generally manifest in the form of anxiety. They are being tested. They are being critiqued. They are being labeled. They are being sorted. They are being judged. And for too many, they believe they are being defined. And that’s a problem. But in a test-and-move-on, ready-or-not system this is a prevalent view, and so when I tell them “this is not a test,” they do not believe. Kyle 5th period yesterday, even said as much, as he questioned the rose I presented by another name. Looks like a test. Smells like a test. Feels like a test. Must be a test.

His logic’s not off. For it is a seeming mirage I present in form, but it is in function where his claim misses the mark. Of course, I wish that name alone would change their minds, even admonishing myself when I slip and call it “test” (old habits are hard for me, too.), but in form, it will likely always look a test. I have limited control over that. However, I have firm control over function. I have final and ultimate choice and say over how I use the form, regardless its name. And so, that is where I will spend my time and energy in transforming my kids’ minds on the role of performances in my classroom.

And so, yesterday, I offered, in response to my stress-filled little wonders, that the performance was a step not an end. It was simply an opportunity for me respond to their shots at the provided targets, to give them feedback on where they are, a snapshot. And as I skimmed their responses upon turn in, I saw that we still have work to do. They are not where I want them to be…yet. But they will get there, and their work yesterday will help inform my responses as we move ahead, as I help them take better aim. I have to do better. They are still not wading deeply enough into the pool with their analysis. And so, my performance needs work, too. And my hope is that my owning that will also help the kids take greater ownership as we work together to move down the path.

One step at a time. Some kids took three or four steps yesterday. Most stayed on their present perch. A few took a step or two back (that’s learning). One, CJ, took a tumble. After 40 minutes, she had nothing on her paper. Tears in eyes as the bell rang, she still sat at her desk. I knelt beside her, patted her on the arm, told her it was okay, and asked her if she wanted to come in Tuesday during access time and take it together. She nodded, smiled, and packed up. A standout in regular LA last year, she was encouraged to take honors this year. And I am not going to leave her behind. And I don’t “have to.” I am in control of how I use performances in my class. I am in control of how I respond to each and every kid’s journey this year. There are no ends on this trail. I will not let CJ fall and stay behind only twenty-seven days in–any days in. I will get her through. This is simply a setback, not an end. She will climb.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…engage in Community Circle. First Friday of every month we have Community Circle. Love this fun, focused approach to building culture and community with my kiddos.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

And then there are those days when even coffee may not be enough. In truth, of late, many days have felt as such, and today is certainly no exception. Coming off a three-day binge of helping kids tap into their creative centers, scrambling to get feedback to them before our next performance (today), dealing with at-home stress (discovered our freezer in the garage that we just filled with half a grass-fed, organic beef wasn’t working), coming upon and dealing with a disturbing bullying situation at the end of the day and being called the “F” word a few hundred times for my trouble, running alongside and cheering for my son at his cross-country race (tied for 2nd), cooking dinner and catching up with my kids, connecting with and rooting for my gradeless peeps around the world, and worrying over all that I DIDN’T do, I am tired. But little matter. I’m back at it again today. Tapping away on the keys, drinking too much coffee, and scheming to a fit a week’s worth of work into a day, I am back for more.

And I always will be. I love what I do. And this year is off to a magical beginning. All my years (twenty-two of them now) have been great, but this one is a bit different. Only twenty-six days in and we are rocking. I am so pleased with and proud of the culture that the kids and I are establishing. Yesterday, I walked into my 5th period class and Moses (who generally passes) and Maisie were leading Smiles and Frowns from the front of the room–before the bell. What was the rush? Well, the cross-country kids were leaving five minutes into the period to travel to their race, and they didn’t want to miss Smiles and Frowns, so they started it on their own. I took a seat and watched. When it came my turn, I smugly smiled at Moses and passed. And then, Maisie, with the help of Moses, started teaching complex sentences from the handout I had given her since she’d be leaving early with the XC team. And she did okay.

I am tired today. I am stressed today. But I am gonna be okay. With kids like Maisie, Moses, and a hundred more, I am going to be okay. Man, I love kids. Love them.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

...begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…have a performance opportunity with theme.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Excited.

Lost.

Pumped.

Flustered.

Inspired.

Intrigued.

Confused.

A waterfall of words. A cascade of possibility. A pool of potential. On Monday, I introduced the Passion Paper, a semester-long writing project, to my students. For the last two days, they have worked, wondered, and worried over their plans, trying to find their own paths for the weeks ahead. At the end of the day yesterday, I asked kids to select a word that reflected their current states of mind with the project and discuss it in their Journey Journal entries. I then asked them to share aloud their words with the class. Above, is some of the stream that poured from their brains, sending resonant ripples dancing across our pond. All music. All beauty.

Yes, beauty, even the lost, the flustered, and the confused–especially the lost, flustered, and confused. Music that, for it reverberates; it speaks of kids out of comfort; it suggests fish out of water; it sings of opportunity to learn, to grow. In truth, this is new, it is different; it is uncomfortable. And that’s not in conflict with my goal. It is in line with my desire to push kids back to a state of wonder and curiosity, to a time before we “schooled” those things out of them. I want them to discover that again. But for many, they will have to first get lost, before they are found. And that’s not gonna be easy. So, I’ll help. Here are some words that I lent them yesterday as they wandered around.

“Step outside the educational box. Quit thinking this is an assignment to be turned in. Think rather of it as something to pursue.”

“I am not ‘grading’ this.”

“Quit asking me, ‘Can I write about…’ Instead, tell me what you are writing about. Anything, means anything. It is your choice, not mine.”

“Love, love, love that idea!”

“I can help.”

“By gum, have fun. Above all, let this be something that you wanna do.”

“I have no idea how long it has to be. I don’t care. It’ll be what is; you will get where you get come January.”

“Those who are lost can be found. Come see me.”

The list goes on. And so will the work. Some are indeed lost, and they may remain so for some time, and I will do what I can to help, but they have to find their way. Others are “found” and they are already cruising down their paths chasing passions, ranging from epic poems to “The Idiot’s Guide to Living with High School Drama” (not the theater). So many great ideas. So many paths. So excited for their discoveries. Honored that they are letting me tag along.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns

…explore complex sentences.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I try to avoid the “T” word in the 180 classroom. One, it creates anxiety. Two, it suggests finality. The former is not necessary. The latter is contrived. Well, at least in the 180 classroom. So, I avoid it, and I offer in its stead: performance.

The 180 experience is a cycle of practice, feedback, and performance. The kids practice. I give them feedback. They perform. I assess their performances. Together, we adjust their aims and trajectories, and we enter the next cycle. When learning is a circle and not a line it obviates the constructs of anxiety and finality. When kids know they have practiced the performance (practice looks identical to performance), anxiety is greatly reduced, for they know what to expect. This is not always the case with “tests,” many of which are often the embodiment of the “gotcha game” that some teachers play under the guise of “rigor.” It is no wonder, then, that kids experience anxiety, especially in high school, where they arrive with their deeply conditioned responses and continue their “conditioning” throughout most of their educational experience, up to and including college. Further, when kids know they have another shot (multiple if necessary) to demonstrate proficiency, they come to learn that assessment can and should be “for” learning. And, too, they learn that the notion of finality is really more a teacher’s choice than a dictum of the system, but it has been their reality for so long they may never fully grasp the “untruth” of the nefarious notion of a test being an end rather than a bridge. And that is what I want performances to be: bridges, crossings to the next stage. I don’t want them to create anxiety. I don’t want them to connote finality. I want them to be natural steps along the learning journey. But that takes time, and that takes trust. I speak it. The kids hear it. But they do not yet believe it. After all, I am up against years of conditioning, so I will be patient and diligent. We will get there.

Last week, we had our first performance. And despite my communicating its purpose, the kids approached it like a test, and they responded to it like a test. Tommy was crestfallen upon learning his score: a 1 (far miss). In his mind, he failed. In my mind, he helped create an opportunity for learning. But he did not see that upon sitting down with me to discuss his performance, but after seeing his mistakes and learning that he would not only have the opportunity for “corrections” but also a retake (retakes, if necessary), his anxious fears of being trapped in the land of no return diminished as he began to imagine the possibility of building a bridge and continuing his journey.

Our next performance is on Thursday. Yesterday, I reiterated the purpose of performances, and while I believe some kids are coming around to this approach, many are still hesitant to settle into this new reality. And that’s okay. They’ll get there. Trust takes time. In many ways, I am asking them to cross a great divide, and if I were they, I, too, would want to be sure of the bridge before me.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…continue determining direction and developing plans for Passion Papers.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Here’s the thing about giving kids the keys to their learning. You have to give them the keys. Today, I will seek to do just that by introducing the Passion Paper. The Passion Paper is a semester-long writing assignment designed to give kids ownership of their learning. I have set some guidelines, but beyond those, the kids have a lot of freedom to pursue their own passions. I am asking them to lead, so I can follow. As the new leaders, they will brave some new territory in which they will come up against some new challenges, challenges which will lead to some frustration as they navigate this new realm. And that’s my goal. I want them to struggle a bit. I want them to find solutions. I want them to find themselves. I will be with them, and I will help them along their way, but I am not going to take the lead. In the driver’s seat they will sit, and I will fill the passenger’s, where I can enjoy the ride and the view as they learn to drive. They have the keys.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

...begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…recite Mindset Mantras.

…get started on Passion Papers.

…Reflect in Journey Journals.

…end with Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all. Have a great week.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Dear Kiddo,

I have thought about you all weekend. I thought about you when I was riding my bike early Saturday morning. I thought about you when I was moving horse manure on my tractor Saturday afternoon. And I am thinking about you now as I sit here in the early Sunday morning hours trying to capture this past week, so I  may do better this coming week. And as I do so, all thoughts turn to you.

First, I am sorry. I am sorry that my recent addition of weekly homework in the form of personal reading for 30 minutes, 5 days a week overwhelmed you. I am sorry that my attempt at empathy and my offer of an alternative approach seemed to have little effect on your near-tears, stressed-out state that you quietly revealed to me late Friday afternoon. I am sorry.

And as I sit here, and again try to settle into your shoes, I have achieved some clarity on how you must feel. One, I am taking you along a path down which you have never been by giving you the keys to your learning, a path that has landed you in a vast landscape of unfamiliar territory. I tend to think that this must be a thrill to you and your peers, but I also need to consider that it’s probably frightening, too. I will do better to remember this. Two, I know you were not happy the with the outcome of your first performance despite my assurances that it was one opportunity of many to come for you to demonstrate proficiency, despite my assurances that it was not a test, that it wasn’t your grade, that it was just an indicator. Easy for me to say. As I am the one who charted the course, I can see the landscape, know its nuances, but you cannot and that must be scary. I will do better to remember this, too.

Last, thank you. Thank you for opening my eyes. Thank you for reminding me that there is more to guiding than walking ahead. Thank you for reminding me that leading necessitates looking back on those we lead, that leading seeks to bridge the distance between those in front and those behind. And so, here is my looking back, here is my seeking to bridge the inevitable gaps that will occur along our journey. Meet me where you can. In the end I do not care about the work I give you. I offer it as only a challenge, as simply an opportunity. And for both, I will offer support. I will meet you where I can if you promise the same. With that, then, we will meet, and that is all that really matters.

Sincerely,

Sy

Do. Reflect. Do Better.