Routines matter. They create a sense of purpose and consistency for our kids and us. Of the 4 R’s (Roles, Routines, Rights, and Responsibilities) this one, routines, always seems to be the one I put off creating/revising till the end. For me, it is my “best-laid plans” curse. It all seems so simple and doable now, but then school starts and realities dictate, and…well, things don’t always go as planned. So, fully conscious of this, I am still going to pretend that this year will be different, that I have finally found the right routines for the realities that wait.
Here are my proposed daily, weekly, monthly routines for this coming year.
Though I was poking fun at myself up above, revealing my inability to always stick to the plan, I do think there is some value in our giving ourselves permission to change things when they aren’t working. For if we don’t, routines can become ruts. So, I keep a finger on the pulse of our routines, and I change them when I feel it’s necessary. And when I do, I try to be as transparent with my kids as possible for why I am making the change. No one wants to be stuck in a rut.
Routines can also become rituals, sacred events in our rooms. In room 206 the last few years, Smiles and Frowns, Choose a Champ, Community Circle, and Sappy Sy Rhymes have become rituals. And I expect them to. I make them priorities. They are the non-negotiable, school-schedule-be-damned parts of our day, especially Smiles and Frowns. Every day. No matter what.
So, those are my routines for now. They will likely change a bit, but that’s the pretty routine in room 206.
I gave up on perfect a long time ago. Heck, I don’t even try for good anymore. I have learned to settle for better. Of course, “better” is relative, and when one chases better, he is never quite settled in the situation. This, then, has become my lot. Always changing. Always tuning and tweaking. Nothing stays the same. I call it “better” but more aptly it’s just different. But “better” makes me feel…well, better. Today, I am sharing my next better for daily reflection.
I have experienced many betters (“different’s”) with daily reflection. Some attempts have been overly ambitious and others have been woefully uninspired. But in trying and leaving them behind, I have picked up some wisdom along the way. I have learned to keep daily reflection short, simple, and to the point. And so, I have revised my Journey Journals to be just that. Short, simple, and to the point.
I want kids to feel like my class is an experience, and in my early days with them, via the documents I share and the words I speak, I refer to our time together as a journey, as an experience. So, the name Journey Journal fit. I have used this name for a few years now, but each year I tweak it a bit. Here is my latest version of the Journey Journal.
Role #6: Reflector. Last role but no less an important one. By now you also know that I will expect you to add to your learning story each day in your Journey Journal. Each day we will end our time together, reflecting on and sharing from our day’s experiences. Reflection is such an important part of learning. I really need you to become reflectors.
As I mentioned in my “Roles” post (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/roles-first-days/), I want kids to come to discover the purpose and power reflection plays in learning. And though we will reflect in different ways over the course of the year, I want to encourage and help build the habit, so we reflect daily in our Journey Journals.
We take the last few minutes each day. The kids write an entry and share it with a peer. I believe the sharing is an important component, so I make time for it. The kids circle any experiences from their day, and as they think back on those experiences, I want them to identify something that they picked up, something that stuck. And then, I want them to communicate why it mattered. I have found that “what” and “why” help achieve not only the simple but also the “to the point.” Otherwise, the kids will only write the “what.” They have to get to the “why.” Most entries are 3-4 sentences in length.
I provide the templates. I make a bajillion two-sided copies, and kids take a new one from the pile after they complete one. I keep the completed sheets in their portfolios. Students are responsible for entries on the days they experience class. If they are absent, they didn’t experience our journey that day, so they are excused. I find this simplifies it for everyone, and it’s not as if it’s part of their grade anyway. We will begin this on day one of our journey together.
And that’s the plan for now. It will likely change next year. But that’s how I roll I guess.
At some point in the first few days, we have to communicate our grading policies/practices. It’s the business end of the deal.
In my room, I conduct business a little differently. As my longtime readers know, I am no fan of grades. I believe they get in the way of learning, so I have worked diligently over the past three years with Project 180 to arrive at a place where I could provide a feedback-only approach to learning. And on this fourth year, I believe I have gotten closer to this desired end. Here’s how I will approach learning this year in room 206. This is only a ready-to-share draft. There will no doubt be some changes between now and when we start. In fact, I have asked my son, who will be in my class this year, to take a look and give me some feedback later today, but here’s my “now” draft.
As I made this, I came to the decision to no longer call it “grading policies.” I will present it as “learning practices” for that’s where I want the emphasis: learning. It is not perfect, but I do believe it’s better–for me and the experiences I want for my kids, not better than others. I just keep chasing my better. And this is simply my latest better.
A note on “no F’s.” I have many reasons for why I don’t fail kids. But this is my main reason.
“Since I can’t possibly meet all kids’ needs, how do I know it is not I who failed?”
Once we–I–arrive at this place in education (meeting all needs), I will no longer fail kids. Maybe not a popular notion, but it’s an honest one.
Short post today. On my way to a funeral. Thought I’d share this graphic I made a few years ago.
I believe learning is a journey, a lifelong journey. Unsettled and dissatisfied with traditional transactions, I try to, maybe somewhat whimsically, offer different paths to my kids.
How we see and present the journey matters. And I think it starts on day one.
I make it mine. Learned that the hard way during my first year of teaching twenty-three years ago. And though many “lessons” come to mind, one in particular stands out. With no other resources at hand and a basket not full of tricks, I used the book tests that came from our text publisher. Why wouldn’t I? They were already made–with a key! And in my innocence, I just thought that’s what we did. It seemed all set up. I taught the section. I gave the test. I used the key. I entered the grade. This teaching stuff was gonna be easy. Silly Sy.
It was all cut and dried, until the kids took the tests. They performed terribly, even my “smart” kids. One smart kid in particular, Brynne, near tears, asked if she could talk to me about the test. “Sure,” I responded.
“We never talked about this stuff in class,” she said, pointing to a number of items that she had missed.
“Well,” I said, with nothing better to offer, “they were in the chapter.”
They were in the chapter...
And they were. But I didn’t teach them. I didn’t even mention them. But it was my only defense at the time, and just like that, only weeks into my career, I had come to rely on, if not gotcha-grading (I really wasn’t trying to get kids) then, at the very least, “what-the-hell grading.”
Some of us are ducks. We can let things roll off our backs. Some of us are sponges. We soak it up and carry it around. I am decidedly a sponge, and I carried this conversation around for a long time (still carrying it), and it ate at me. So, slowly, I began to do things differently. Hesitantly at first. I was worried I might be breaking some sacred rules by not testing everything in the chapter, but my instincts kept me going, and I began to learn the lesson of testing what I taught. So, with that, I became selective, about the book items I chose, making sure to only pick the ones emphasized in class, and things got better. I was more purposeful in my teaching, and the kids could be more successful with their learning. Eventually, I learned to ditch the book tests all together, coming to realize, second only to relationships, that making things fit us and our kids is vital to classroom success.
I came to eventually call it the “fit factor.” We can–should–beg, borrow, and steal, but we have to run things through our “fit filters” if we are going to make them work. They have to fit us and our kids.
Along the same lines, beyond putting our stamp on the teaching and learning components in our classrooms, we should also have our fingerprints all over the culture components, too. I believe, as best we can, we should strive to make kids’ experiences with us unique. And we do this by making it ours. That is not to say we shouldn’t continue borrowing, begging, and stealing. We’re teachers. It’s what we have to do. It is to say that we should make it our own.
I share a lot here and on Twitter. In doing that, I fully expect and accept that others may use some of my work. I want them to use it, and I try to share it freely and openly, but I don’t want folks to imitate; I want them to innovate, to make it theirs. Many folks have begun to use Smiles and Frowns. And I could not be happier. I am pleased that they have perhaps found some value that it may add to their own classroom cultures. I am flattered when people use Smiles and Frowns. I am honored when they adapt it to their needs. A firm believer in there is no one “way,” I encourage folks to find and follow their way.
Every year I seek to make things mine. Not for proprietary reasons, but for the experiential opportunities they bring to the kids in my room. What’s more, in doing things “my way,” I find that I am a better teacher for my kids, not a better teacher than my colleagues, but a better teacher for my kids. And so, from my Smiles and Frowns song, to my #MyRoomMessage, to my Sappy Sy Rhyme, to my Feedback-only approach, I am just trying to make and follow my way.
For all, I hope you find and make your way this year. For your kids. For you.
Names matter. Of course, this is nothing new to anyone here, and I am not presenting it as such, but I am presenting it as one of the first and most important connections we make with our kids. We have to learn names quickly and use them frequently.
One of the simplest ways for the first days is to have kids make “name tents,” a piece of paper folded in thirds with the name written on the middle third, and then formed into a “tent” to be placed on the front of their desks. Some teachers have kids include other “get-to-know-ya” information about themselves (many possibilities here), but I just have them write in large letters the name they would like me to use. I ask the kids to keep and use these for the first five days.
In my room, I don’t use a seating chart, so the name tents are vital to my getting to know kids’ names. But beyond seeing the names, I say the names. With each interaction, I say a kid’s name.
“Wow, Lexi, that must have been a blast!”
“Great question, Lance.”
I do this all year. I try to use kids’ names as frequently as possible. I think there is something to hearing our names. It makes us feel acknowledged and connected, so I use it for that purpose.
As many of you know, I do Smiles and Frowns every day. And beyond getting to know my kids better, it provides an opportunity to say each kid’s name every day as we go around the room sharing our Smiles and Frowns. A little thing perhaps, but I want to believe that it matters to the kids, that it does make them feel acknowledged, that it does make them feel connected. More, I have found that my modeling this has resulted in the kids’ not only knowing each other’s names, but also kids’ using each other’s names in their interactions.
I know many of you may find this as “teaching 101,” and I am sorry if you feel as if I have merely pointed out the obvious, but I felt it worth mentioning as we gear up for another year. Names matter.
I believe teaching is a trust. Parents trust that we will do right by their kids, not only academically, but also socially and emotionally. It is no easy thing to hand over our trust as parents, even when our kids are in high school. And it is this I consider as I write to my parents each year, as I strive to let them know I take seriously the trust they place in me.
Here is this year’s letter.
This year is a bit different. I am not only the teacher but also the parent. My son is in my class. I am placing, then, a great deal of trust in myself.
Is it my job to teach kids responsibility? Can I teach responsibility? I’m not sure. Seems a tall order. Responsibility is a big word, and an even bigger idea–insofar that it is no simple thing to teach, and it is a lifelong learn. Adult doesn’t automatically equal responsible. And, well, these are kids….
Maybe my job is to provide kids with responsibilities. And from those they will perhaps take something forward from the experience of learning with, rather than from responsibilities. Their own lifelong learn.
With that in mind, here are the Responsibilities that complement the Rights in room 206.
It is rare that I ever make it past the “reminders” and “conversations.” These are moments through which we can connect, consider, and work with responsibility. I have found conversations tend to do more than consequences, especially when it comes to creating commitment, not compliance, and my longtime readers know I care not for compliance. I seek commitment.
Cellphones
This is how I attempt to create “responsibility experiences” with cellphones.
Not perfect. Likely never will be. But it’s my now, until I find a later better.
In the end, I just want to provide my kids with responsibilities to experience and maybe–hopefully–learn from.
“Routines” usually follows “Roles” as the second of the 4 R’s, and they will when I am with the kids this fall, but for now I am going to skip them (still under construction) and go to the third R: “Rights.”
And though I am presenting them as “rights,” in keeping with the 4 R’s and my love of alliteration, I really do not see myself as “the granter of rights.” I see myself as a maker of promises, and these are the promises that my kids have the “right” to in our community, and I will say as much when I present to them.
I give each kids two Lifelines (see below) for the semester. They may use them whenever and for whatever. Some use them when they need an emotional break. Some use them when they need to get an assignment done/study for another class. Some never use them at all. Some stay in the room. Some go to the hall. Some go to other approved locations in the building. They are not “excused” from the day’s work. They will have to find/make time to “catch up.” They are, though, granted the grace they seek. That’s really the whole point. I cannot think of an instance when a kid abused these last year. In fact, surprisingly, many never used them at all.
Rights. Promises. Either. Both. Just something I do to help create the culture and community I seek in 206. Nothing fancy. Nothing magical. Just humans, together, setting out to find our way.
Seems a word that says everything and nothing all at once. From generalized assumptions to specific expectations, we toss this word around in our circles, using it as we will, fitting it to whatever context we create. And we do create context to a degree, don’t we? Yes, there are some things from the outside that contextualize our rooms, that denote and connote the word “student.” But there are many things inside that bring to bear what the word “student” ultimately means for our students.
For me, in my room, I find the term inadequate: sterile, clinical, impersonal, creating a distance that neither fits me nor the experience I try to create for my kids over the course of the year. So, as I work to create context, to create culture I provide “roles” for my kids to play during our journey. Here is a list of those roles that I will share with my kids from the 4 R’s (Roles, Routines, Rights, and Responsibilities), which I present to them early on. Usually I will do one “R” per day during the first week. We start with Roles.
This is the stage I set. I want my kids to understand that they are here to experience learning in its many faceted ways, that they are not here to be a student in a desk with a teacher in his room. I want more for all of us.
My roles? Many--for which “teacher” seems inadequate, too, but if I were to offer what I believe my two primary roles are, I would suggest provider of opportunity and supporter.
And with this, we set out as the play unfolds with a cast of many.
