Internet day? Some of you know and some of you will learn once you’ve woken, but everything Google is down right now. And if it’s not fixed in the next few hours, it may well be we find ourselves in a cyber snow day of sorts. And though I am sure the engineers at Google will get the “roads plowed” in the next few hours, it’s interesting to wonder what we might do if they don’t. And…they are plowed. Google’s back.

Looks like we will avoid a cyber snow day after all, but with nearly everything Google, it’s hard to imagine that we could conduct business in a meaningful way without it. Strange times we are living in. But, I guess, as we have learned here in 2020, we just keep adapting and doing our best (better) to move forward. I am sure we aren’t rid of the hiccups yet.

Happy Monday, all. Now that I can drive on the roads again, I’m gonna get some school work done.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

There’s wonder in the wait. Yes, there is the “I-wonder-if-they’ll-ever-turn-it-in” aspect to wait and wonder, but I am talking about a different wonder. I am talking about the simple act of leaving the door open and the wonder that follows when they finally walk through the door.

For too many years I thought the door was set to a timer. It had to close. Time was up. Deadlines and due dates have doors. This made sense to me. So I shut the door. And for a time sadly, I slammed the door by attaching penalties to their irresponsible behaviors. It was the way, and many around me confirmed this with their own “Sorry, we’re closed” late-work policies.

That was then. I have since opened myself and my door to invite possibility. I have no “closed” sign. In fact, I took the door off its hinges. It’s always open–because I never know when they may decide to enter.

Last night, according to the time stamps on the emails, Kat (name changed) showed up at my door at 10:55 PM and continued to pass in and out until 2:33 AM this morning, turning in every missing assignment for the quarter. It was the first of any work she’s turned in. And I wonder.

I wonder what changed, what motivated? There is wonder in this for me. I don’t marvel and wonder at the kids who always turn in their work on time. I wonder and marvel at the kids who finally find their way to the door. There is something to that I think. Yes, some would call it irresponsible behavior. But I find a certain beauty in it, and I would hate to have ruined these important steps of her journey by presenting a closed door at the destination. She got through it–whatever it was. She made the journey. And she found the door open when she arrived.

Yes, it would be ideal if she and all my kids met their deadlines. But working with humans is rarely ideal. I learned this long ago. And in my learning, I discovered the decision of the door is mine to make. And I choose to leave it open. While I wait and wonder.

Happy Friday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Is my feedback helping you learn?

A feedback focus has me focused on feedback. More specifically, my attention has turned to learning about the impact that my feedback has on learning. And to learn that, I am turning to my kids for help.

In November, I started down this particular path with my three-part series on the Feedback Journal, which began with “A Why on the Wind” (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/why-feedback-journal-part-1project-180-day-53/). Since then, I have come up with a version of a journal which we will use to capture our work. This is what I am presenting to my kids today.

I want them to see all of our experiences as collaborative endeavors. Less me. Less them. More us. Not always an easy sell to skeptical buyers. But I continue to make the pitch in both word and deed. This is just my latest attempt to change–and hopefully better–the experience. Eager to discover what we learn together.

Happy Wednesday, all. Stay safe.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Morning, all. Will try to wrap this up this morning. Thank you for your patience.

Due Draft

I don’t call last drafts, “final drafts.” I call them “due drafts,” honoring the notion that writing is never done, only due. We just run out of time, and we have to prepare our last draft as best we can for the purpose it serves. And that purpose varies. In person, I try to create publishing opportunities.

Whenever possible, I ask kids to share their writing, to read it aloud to the class (or at least parts of it). I have found that this makes them care more authentically about their writing than just turning it in to me for a grade. But I also try to find writing opportunities for them to publish writing that moves beyond trite, transactional school writing. They don’t want to share that type of writing, and frankly, we don’t want to hear that type of writing. Again, the emphasis is on the writer, not the writing, and if the writer is going to engage in the writing, then I believe we have to give them some choice. So, I do.

But what about the standards? You mean focus/purpose, organization, and elaboration? They’re there. They’re always there. And that is where we meet and learn. And when I give kids choice and purpose (publish to peers), I find they are more engaged in their growth as writers. We also publish “Classroom Anthologies.” By the way, for kids who are too anxious to share aloud with the entire class, they share with me and a few of their peers. They select their peers. But with the intentional work that I put in to building our classroom community with daily Smiles and Frowns, etc., most kids are comfortable enough to share with the entire class, buying my pitch, “it’s just us.”

Of course, in our distance-reality, this is really not an option for many reasons. Things are just a little different this year–socially and academically, and so, I am trying to find ways to publish writing. But, the focus on the writer has not changed; it’s still about the process, not the product. Last quarter, I only glanced at their due drafts to note completion of the process. But I did read–carefully–their required reflections. That’s right, I didn’t read their final drafts. Didn’t need to. The process had come to an end. I did my looking along the way, engaging with them in the feedback/response process. To help frame this, I called our writing experience, “Project Writer,” telling kids that we were in the process of building writers, not making products. As such, in the end, their self-assessment of and reflection on the process is what got my attention. I can’t tell them it’s about the writer only to look at the writing in the end. The writing is done; it stays. The writer will move forward, and before she goes, I want her to capture her experience for a moment. She is not done. And I want her to know that.

So much more to say about all of this, and I never did get to how I “grade” writing in my feed-back focused classroom, but that may be a good thing (it’d likely only make more murky already muddy waters). So, I will just end by going back to my original point: there is a danger in done. It takes away from the opportunity to honor the process and the learner. It places the focus on the product and too often the grade, both of which stay static as the dynamic doers move along. So, I focus on the doers, who are never done.

Happy Tuesday, all. Gonna move along from here. Sorry I lingered as long as I did.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

How do I deal with final drafts? I don’t. Well, mostly. Let me explain.

As I have suggested before, I don’t teach writing. I teach writers. As such, I focus on the process not the product. Yes, there’s a product, but it’s simply a function of the process, a by-product of the process.

But process is more than the stages of the writing. Process, I believe, is what we do during the stages. I call it the feedback/response process, and it is here where my writers and I meet. It is here where learning happens.

My writers and I meet in three places along the way, regardless the mode of writing: Focus/Purpose, Organization, and Elaboration. As writers, this is what I want them taking along with them as they continue to grow after they go. For, they will continue, unlike the products, which I wrote about back in October with “Trash Talk” (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/trash-talk-project-180-day-41/). Most of their products will end up in the trash. So, with that in mind, I don’t worry so much about polishing the products as much as I care about “polishing” the people by engaging with them in the feedback/response process along the way. Here’s a rough look at that way in my class.

Down Draft

After the brainstorming and idea-gathering. I just ask the kids to get it down. Really it’s a discovery draft of sorts. It gets the process started. It emphasizes the necessary evolution and shows that down is not done.

Developing Draft: Focus/Purpose

Here we step into finding and establishing focus and purpose for the piece. Often times, this will take the form of a traditional introduction, but our writing journeys often take us into different modes and forms, so I have to be flexible with this. Last quarter, many of my kids had to write a separate introduction to their pieces to provide a place for us to meet, which is the goal for all of these developing drafts, an opportunity for the feedback/response process.

Developing Draft: Organization

Here, as the name suggests, we look to discovering an effective organizational approach. Really it comes down to what form the kids are writing in. If it’s outside the the conventional intro-body-conclusion realm, I ask them to do some independent research on how their selected-genre is usually organized, and this creates a starting place for our collaborative work.

Developing Draft: Elaboration

More. This is the word that I ask kids to think of when they hear the word elaboration. More details, more evidence, more information. More.

Note: I use the word elaboration very generally here, but when kids think of “more” along with the idea of adding flesh to the bones of their organizational frame, it seems to click. Again, here, much depends on mode/form.

Due Draft

Dang out of time this morning. I will continue here tomorrow. Sorry, all.

Happy Monday.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Morning, all. Inkwell’s a little dry this morning. So, I am going to wish everyone a happy weekend and take a day away from diving into “Done’s Danger.” Will get back to it on Monday when I share how I deal with final drafts. Sorry for taking easy street this morning.

Happy Friday, all. Stay safe.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Practice becomes pointy, becomes dangerous, when we practice with points. The point of practice is to prepare for more formal learning opportunities. I call them Learning Checks. They take various forms, but the purpose is always the same: engaging with students in a feedback/response process (learning). But when we attach points to practice, it becomes about grading, and in my experience kids come to see the purpose of practice as points in, or not in, the gradebook, and done becomes the point, and the point becomes done.

But isn’t that the point? To do? Yes, if the do is true. I am talking about the “Dilemma of Do” which I wrote about back in June of 2017 (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/the-dilemma-of-do/). Basically, the point, was to explore this notion that if we don’t attach points, kids won’t do (which I reject). But more, it was to explore the do of compliance and whether it was a “true do” or not. And while my thinking has certainly evolved some as I have had a chance to reflect and do better, I still stand staunchly in support that “doing for compliance” is lesser than “doing for commitment.” And I think that, really, becomes the point with practice: commitment, not compliance.

We give practice opportunities. The “do” is up to the kid. If they do it, and it’s designed intentionally and well to prepare them for a more formal opportunity, there is value in it–for the kids, not the gradebook. But what if they don’t do it? Where’s the value in that? At least when there were points attached, kids would do it? Would they? I am not so sure. I have found that some kids don’t discover the value until later, upon reflection after a Learning Check, they discover that doing the practice would have helped them perform better. And, for me that’s the point of practice: to help us perform better. This is as true in life as it is in the classroom. Generally, those who perform well prepared with practice. Practice is important. Practice prepares. When, it is done for its purported purpose, which I happen to believe better occurs in the context of commitment.

So, do we ruin it with points? Not necessarily. But I think there is greater value in practice than points to prove “done” in the gradebook. Of course, to be fair, it took me years to get here and my feedback-focused classroom has necessarily aligned itself to my point. As such, I am not suggesting one can simply make the jump here. But I do think one can take a step, as I did long ago when I wondered about the point of practice in my classroom.

Out of time. Will explore more tomorrow.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Done.

Dangerous word. Okay, that may be overplaying it a bit, but this word, this idea–I believe–poses a threat to learning.

It starts with “due.” Seems necessary, and I suppose it is, but as soon we emphasize “due” (which we do) the work too often becomes about getting done. But isn’t that the point? We give kids work. They do the work. That’s the process. But I wonder if we didn’t create our own monster.

In my subject, at my level, the kids come to me largely conditioned to do to get done. This is especially true in writing, where kids often want to know the minimum word count–for no other purpose than to reach the “done threshold.” But, to their consternation, I never give word minimums, focusing instead on achieving purpose, not reaching a word count. If I ever impose a word count, I set a maximum. Anyway, back to my point, kids have learned, as we taught them (perhaps to effectively), to do to get done.

I don’t think we intended to, and I suspect I am not alone in wishing we could unplug this Frankenstein and address this malfunction in our monster, but whether we intended it or not, we did it. We created a monster with “done.”

So, what can we do with done? I have some ideas, but I am out of time this morning, so I will continue this post in a second part tomorrow, so I am not done. Never done.

Happy Wednesday, all. I am sorry that I didn’t get very far this morning. Have a good day.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I think we default to “all” because it’s too hard to imagine “each.”

Yes, I am still walking with my shoe idea this morning. I walked with it most of the day yesterday.

A, B, C, D, we agree.

All are sizes you can be.

And if you don’t fit these shoes,

there’s a final fit for you.

It’s as if we ran out of ideas after D. And what ever happened to E? Oh, we have supplemented with S, I, and P. But we have largely forgotten the rest of that song we learned long ago as we entered the halls of our education. So many letters to remember, so they gave us a song, but they are the ones who seem to have forgotten their letters.

Okay, I am being a bit flip this morning, but this stuff flips my switch. And the more I think about the need to reach each…well, it just gets me going…to a place I can imagine but fear I–we–will never find because it would likely look drastically different than it does now. We’d need to find room for all those other letters, but even they might not be enough for all the “eaches” we serve. For that we may need a new alphabet.

As I think about the “fits” I have found for some of my kids, I am sure others would be aghast at the shoes upon their feet. But what if Sally needs a Q, then shouldn’t I give her a Q? Yes, it looks markedly different from the B Johnny is wearing, but it’s what fits. And though I may well be sullying the system with such findings and fittings, the shoes fit for now, and I have many in wait (various shapes and sizes) for when they no longer do.

…X, Y, and Z.

Now I recall my A, B, C’s

Won’t you please

find more with me?

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

The shoes don’t fit. Some are too big. Some are too small. Some don’t fit the person at all. For years, I tried to force a fit with the standard issue, and while I stuck them on the feet in front of me, I knew they didn’t fit, and worse, the kids knew, too. But I had no choice. They were the shoes I was given, and if I was going to be good at my job, I would make them fit. I had no choice. Until I did.

But that discovery was a longtime coming and too-long delayed in my practice. Too many years I forced the fit. Kids were kids. Ages were ages. Levels were levels. And so the shoes had to fit. But that changed. I am not sure when, but one day, I noticed the kids were all wearing shoes already. They all had shoes. New. Old. Big. Small. Flashy. Plain. Comfortable. Clumsy. Shoes, every one. And for the first time, clearly, I saw each, not all. More, I saw myself. I was not the fitter. I was the “fittee.” All that time, I was trying to make them fit me, when I should have been fitting them.

And as I have learned to fit, I have discovered paths never before imagined for my kids to walk. They are not all the same, despite the labels we tend to attach to them. They each require a unique fit that I try to find.

But isn’t that hard? Impossibly. Believing each kid has a glass slipper out there has not made my job easier. In truth, because this isn’t a fairytale and because I am not a fairy godmother, and because the clock’s at 11:59, it has made it, at times, a desperate dance at the ending ball to find the fit. And for some, sadly, the clock strikes midnight, and I never find their slipper, but, even so, I keep believing there is a Cinderella story for each kid out there. And I know I am not alone. I am among a great many who believe for each kid. We believe so they all may live happily ever after.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.