The world won’t give them resources. Won’t it?

Welcome to My House: Designing Support

I have changed the oil in my own vehicles for years. Drain the oil, change the filter, refill the oil. Easy peasy. But when I bought my Tundra that peasy became a little less easy. And so, I turned to YouTube. I had to. Things were different. And in the different I had to learn. So, I sought help in a DIY video. I still have its link saved in “Notes” on my phone. And though I have now changed the oil in my Tundra several times, I still consult it on occasion “just to be sure.”

Did I pass the test? Well, my Tundra is still running. I am still changing the oil. Did I cheat? By watching someone else do it first and then going back to it during the task to make sure I was doing it right in my first and even subsequent attempts? Did I really do it myself if I had help? Well, I certainly felt like I was the guy getting his hands dirty.

Okay, I’m being a little flip this morning, but speaking plainly, using resources is “real-world learning”. “Traditional testing” is a school construct that frankly is absurd when put to the test. I am not saying that tests don’t exist outside of school. They do, but nearly all of them, even “high stakes” ones, can be taken again, and again, and again.

And it is with this in mind that I design not tests but learning experiences for my kids. And for those experiences, I do what I believe is necessarily my duty, I create and provide resources that they can initially see and refer back to as they experience learning.

In this case, I provided not only an example learning check with a different text, but I also created optional support videos to help my kids if necessary. But what if they have to make, support, and clarify a claim in the real world? The world won’t give them resources. Won’t it?

A quick “how-to-make-a-claim” YouTube search resulted in hundreds of resources. This is information that is and will always be at our kids’ fingertips. So, why should I present an experience that’s different from what’s real? I am no longer about maintaining the status quo and fabricating a fictional experience for kids just because we feel like we have to honor the austere “test” of our institution.

I am about supporting kids in their learning. I am not a protector of the test. I am a teacher of kids. And not I’m sure there is anything more important for me to do than provide supports. We talk a lot about “design” in our practice: lesson design, assessment design. unit design. But if in our blueprint there is no space for “support,” we have not fully delivered on our promise as the architects of the learning experiences we provide our children.

I provide supports. I have to. I am a teacher. That is why I design my house the way I do. People, little humans, reside there. And I am responsible for the quality of their stay.

Okay, perhaps a little “soapboxy” this morning, but the “testing coalition’s “box” overshadows mine, so I felt like I had to speak up a bit.

(from part one) Optional Support Videos

Where can I find the Tone words?

How do I write the Claim? 

How do I write the Cite?

How do I write the Clarify?

How do I construct the Paragraph?

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

“…but they are the menial and the mundane, which measure not my worth. Let my worth be measured in the support I provide.”

Morning, all. Following is an example of a “distance” Learning Check in my class from last Friday. I have worked for years to make a test not a test. Instead, I work to support the experience of learning with my approach to “assessment-as-learning.”

Support(er)

By any other name, we’d be called “supporters,” for what’s our job–really–if not to support? I am not a manager, a measurer, a grader. I am a supporter. Yes, I am at times required to undertake the tasks of the respective titles listed above, but they are the menial and the mundane, which measure not my worth. Let my worth be measured in the support I provide. And so, with that in mind, I “share myself” in what I offer below as a supported experience from the Project 180 Classroom. And for the rest of the week, I will break it down into parts, sharing the what, why, and how of my approach.

Learning Check: “By Any Other Name”

Learning Experience Target

Today I will experience making, supporting, and clarifying a claim about rhetorical/literary elements in a text.

Optional Support Videos

Where can I find the Tone words?

How do I write the Claim? 

How do I write the Cite?

How do I write the Clarify?

How do I construct the Paragraph?

Prompt

1. Read the passage from the end of the short story “By Any Other Name.” 

2. What word from the Tone Word Resource best conveys the author’s tone in this selected passage?

3. Please construct a Claim, Cite, Clarify paragraph, following the steps below.

Passage

“Of course, they were both wrong. I understood it perfectly, and I remember it all very clearly. But I put it happily away, because it had all happened to a girl called Cynthia, and I never was really particularly interested in her” (15). 

Tone Word Resource – https://docs.google.com/document/d/1kF1hyLHncSMBMkx3rnRhFmahQvhA5sZq3qDJYyaavNw/edit?usp=sharing

CCC Template

This is your answer to the question. Please write as a complete sentence. Please remember to show that you know what the tone word means in your sentence.  Claim:

This is your “Discovery Quote” from the passage–where you found your answer. For this you will cite words from the provided passage that you believe help convey the tone. Please include the page number in parentheses. (15). Cite:

This is your clarification of your claim in the context of your cite. Please do not begin with, “In this quote.” Clarify, make clear your claim and then reference the cite. Start with your claim.  Clarify:

CCC Paragraph

Directions: Take each part from the template above to form a paragraph in the space below. Please make sure that they all fit together to form a coherent paragraph. Please proofread your paragraph to make sure it all fits together. It is okay to add/delete words to make that happen.

Expectations

I will meet the expectations on this Learning Check with my CCC paragraph if I…

…present a claim that answers the question in the prompt about the author’s tone.

…support my claim about the author’s tone with textual evidence from the provided passage.

…clarify my claim by making reference to my cite, further explaining how it supports my claim.

Once your paragraph is written. Please highlight the specific parts as shown in the key below.

Claim

Cite 

Clarify

(Write your paragraph here.)

Support Videos

Did you use any of the support videos?

If yes, please indicate which ones.

Response to Feedback

You will complete this after I return your Learning Check with feedback. You will then resubmit to complete the Learning Check process. 

How did you do?

What did the feedback reveal.

What will you do better next time?

Happy Monday, all. See ya here tomorrow.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

As my longtime readers know, I view learning a story, and that view shapes how I work with kids, seeking to empower them to take ownership of their learning experience in my classroom. It is their learning. It is their story.

Yesterday, I asked them, “to check in with a chapter” as we approach the midpoint of the quarter.

And their stories become my story becomes our story. Their “chapters” not only capture, they compel. They help me see so that I may serve. They help me hear so that I may support.

Story has become the centerpiece of my work with kids. From the story-generating ritual of Smiles and Frowns to the journey-capturing practice of My Learning, My Story, we are bound. Stories connect. Stories endure.

And what lovely stories they are.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

That we even conceived of the idea of “failure” in our approach to teaching kids is an absurdity.

Along time ago in a classroom not really so far away (120 miles), a young man became a teacher. At that time, he would not have guessed that he would be forging lifelong connections with kids. Heck at that time he didn’t even know that relationships were part of the deal. He thought he was there to teach English to 7th graders. He thought a lot of things, I suppose. And I suppose, a lot of those things have changed over the years. But, the lessons he learned about connecting with kids from that first formative have stayed center. He was reminded of that this morning from one of the very kids who in her own unique and sometimes challenging ways taught him some valuable truths in the classroom. I wanted to share our interaction from Facebook this morning (with permission).

Crowd, I am sorry, old friend, that you and your son are experiencing this. And though I don’t have “the” answer to set it right, I will offer this. School is largely an artificial construct, that cannot, does not, and—sadly, seemingly—will not meet the needs of all kids. It seems instead to expect all kids to meet its needs. As such, when kids don’t fit the mold—for various reasons—the system labels them failures, and this creates situations such as the one you find yourself in. And to speak plainly, it’s bullshit. It’s bullshit any time, but it’s especially bullshit when it fails to meet the needs of our IEP kids. All kids learn and grow in different ways and at different times. But the system largely ignores this as we try to run them along the assembly line built for convenience, not effect. In short, the system is failing your kid. Your kid is not failing the system. That we even conceived of the idea of “failure” in our approach to teaching kids is an absurdity. The only thing we should be focused on is growth, which then becomes the goal which gives rise to our role to serve and support. It should be that simple. “It shouldn’t be this hard.” Ever. That is not to say that learning is without challenge. Growth requires challenge, but it also necessitates support. And though I imagine those who have served your son have tried in earnest to support him, there are systemic shortcomings that can make it difficult, so I am not necessarily pointing a finger at any of his teachers; I am, however, poking an emphatic finger in the chest of an institution that creates these all too frequent, all too real, all too tragic situations for kids and families. And for that, I am truly sorry, Crowder. But, sadly, my sorry won’t fix anything. So what, then, Syrie? This. Center your son in the idea of learning as growth, help him see in himself what the system has seemingly failed to find: a young person with the means to learn and grow every day in the authenticity of his own way. Let that be what he sees in himself. And when that self is threatened from a system who would have him believe otherwise, then advocate for the service and support that he truly deserves and let the system flail in its own failure.  But I caution against using the system as a scapegoat, (which I feel like you are not trying to do). Help him believe in himself. Help him find the words, “I am learning . I am growing.” Those should be the words in the heads and hearts of all our kids. That they would ever think or speak otherwise is a travesty. It’s, in a word, bullshit. Sorry, my friend. Not sure if this helps, but I felt compelled to share my two cents this morning. Your son will be okay. Of course he will. He has you for a mama. Take care, kid.

In a few hours, in a classroom 3.8 miles away, a far-less young man will continue a teacher. He will not guess what connections will continue or in what ways they will come to enter his life later on. But he will know to focus on connecting with kids when he enters the classroom. He has to. He has learned that. He had to. He had some great teachers along the way. Thank you, Kristina, for being such a great teacher. Sorry for your struggle. Wish I could mend what’s broken.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Only twenty days. Seems longer–a lot longer. And as I look ahead to the many days to come, I…. Well, I can’t do that. That tunnel is too long, that pitch is too steep. One day at a time. One step at a time. I have to live and work in the present moment, for that is all I can sustain. And for now, it’s working. We are moving. We are learning. We are managing. And we will continue making our way, but if I am honest, I worry about the days, weeks, and months ahead. Can we sustain this strange? Yes. No. Maybe.

Not trying for a pity party here. Just worrying out loud. I worry about our fatigue, our apathy, our anxiety, our distance. Ours. All of us. Teachers. Students. Administrators. Parents. Society.

It is ours. All of it. And as long as we remain together and accept it as ours, I think we will be okay, but already, in various ways, I see the cracks forming, and I hope we can hold it together, for it is ours to hold. And our continued compassion and grace is all that’s going to sustain us on the long road ahead. We got this. But we gotta “got” each other, too.

Happy Wednesday, all. “Get” each other. We gotta. There is no other way.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

My kids will get a choice today. Read the short story, “By Any Other Name,” or listen to the short story, “By Any Other Name.” But first I will ask them to respond to the following questions before and after they “read.”

Before

How are reading a story and listening to a story different? How are they the same?

Agree or Disagree. Listening to a story is “cheating.”

After

Did you read the story or listen to the story? Why?

Text link

https://www.cusd80.com/cms/lib/AZ01001175/Centricity/Domain/2112/Unit_2-136-141.pdf

Audio link

https://youtu.be/TC7AAYW-7E8

I have no illusions. Most of my kids will select the audio. And why wouldn’t they? I suspect many adults–some even English teachers–would do the same. It’s easier. In some regards, it’s more engaging. Contrary to popular English teacher belief, many kids do not have a vivid movie playing in their heads while reading. I still remember how stunned I was to discover this as a young teacher when I naively thought we all shared in the textual gratification of a book. We do not. Would it were true, but it’s not. And so, in the true lack of sameness, it seems fair, then, to offer differentness in the form of a choice.

But doesn’t that sully the literary experience? Isn’t that borderline blasphemy or at least malpractice as an English teacher? I don’t know. Maybe. Figure I’ll take that up with my maker when the time comes. But for now, I am meeting my kids where they are, and the only way to assure the authenticity of that meet is to offer them the choice. In truth, most of them know how to find the audio/video options out there anyway, so I’d rather we meet in the reality that there are choices, that there will always be choices, instead of pretending that text is the only and best choice. More, I would rather we acknowledge and face the reality that without the option many kids wouldn’t read it anyway. Here they have a choice, and though it may not live up to the ideals of the literary experience, it may well better achieve the goal of getting kids to engage in stories from the human experience. It’s the story that matters. By any name.

Happy Tuesday, all. Hope everyone is well.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

She turned it in.

Funny how such a simple act can make our day. We have checked on her, we have talked to her, we have reminded her, and checked on her again, and then, when maybe we fear she’ll never turn it in, there it is. She turned it in.

In truth, I had given up, wondering if I was going to get any work from her. And just as I had begun to reconcile this reality, imagining things were too far beyond for her, for me, she turned it in. And though I am proud of her, I am admittedly a little abashed at myself, for giving up so soon. But, and maybe I am just rationalizing here, in doing so, maybe I gave her the room she needed. Maybe that’s what finally compelled her. Maybe it wasn’t my check-ins. Maybe it was her. Maybe she planned on doing it all along, but she just hadn’t found the time or space (I’ve seen her at-home situation via Zoom) to finally get to it. I don’t know. But she got to it. She turned it in. And she has made my Monday morning.

And I am going to be sure she knows. I can’t wait to let her know how proud I am of her.

Happy Monday, all. Hope your week starts of well.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I mean, I had to. What else could I do, would I do, should I do? Their situation called for it. I had to make the deal. So, I did.

No stranger to making deals with kids, I have found myself making a fair number of them in recent days as not only the challenges of distance learning but also the challenges of kids’ lives surface during this strange time. And just as no kid’s learning is the same, no kid’s life is the same, so in the difference, I make the deal.

Some of the differences I discover are common and expected, others are unexpected and uncommon. And some…well, they are downright heartbreaking. But big or small, common or uncommon, differences drive decision, which decide the deal.

Once upon a classroom, I dealt in the notion that if it wasn’t equal, then it wasn’t fair. So, I listened to this “logic.” But as I learned, I came to listen better, and I heard not what I expected to hear, what I wanted to hear, but rather what they were actually saying when they came to me with their differences. And I quit the “same game.” I learned to deal with different.

I can’t change the cards the kids come to me with. But I can give them a few fresh cards from my deck, so they may better their hands.

A bum deal? I don’t think so. Have I made some mistakes? Of course. Have I been “taken advantage of?” Probably. But my gut tells me that’s not enough to fold. My guts tells me to go all in for each. And so, I do. I make the deal.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I suppose I did the same when we were in person. It’s likely, but I don’t really remember. I had been doing the same thing for so long, I am not sure I was conscious of it. But now, I am certainly conscious of the deep breath I take each day before clicking, “start meeting” on Zoom. It’s go time.

And though it was no less “go time” before with thirty live kids in front of me, it’s a different go time now. I don’t know the game. I am not sure that I can. I am not sure that I will. And so maybe that’s the big in the breath I take each day as I step onto the court, playing as if the title was on the line, only to discover I forgot to tie my shoes, tripping on my laces.

Okay, that’s a little hyperbolic and melodramatic. But there is the breath, that much is true. And though the title may not be on the line, there is much on the line, for I have to “play more positions” than I ever have to serve and support kids. It’s game day, every day. It’s go time, like the world depended on it…and, here I go again with the hype, but much does depend on my “game” as I daily check my laces one last time before facing kids whom I have never met, in an awkward arena, where someone forgot to turn on the lights.

No shoe deals. No cheerleaders. No highlight reels. Just a teacher and his love for the game, playing as if it mattered.

And the same game is being played out in arenas all over–teachers taking one last big breath, checking their laces one last time before stepping onto the court.

It’s go time.

Happy Thursday, all. Thank you for playing like it matters. It does.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I suppose it’s become as much an invitation as an expectation. I expect my kids to discover better. I invite them to discover better. So, together, we can discover better.

In my Day 5 post “Seeking Simple” (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/seeking-simple-project-180-day-5/) I shared this graphic to illustrate my approach to teaching and learning this year.

And simple doesn’t end here. I attempt to continue to simplify our experience–not to make it easy, but to make it sensible. I want the process from the introduction of the tASK to the score reported on their record in Skyward to make sense–to them, to me, to their parents. This is how I do it.

As I have shared before, I don’t consider Skyward my “grade book.” I consider it a tool to record learning experiences from my class. How is that different from a grade book? Well, I also offer to my kids and parents that a “grade” doesn’t exist until the end of the term, when kids and I come together as they select and support a grade from their record, their “learning story.” Yes, there is a “percentage” in Skyward but it is simply a metric to catch attention, a temperature reading of sorts. For instance, if a lower percentage is currently registering in the record, that is an invitation to better. It is an invitation to revise based on feedback and resubmit–sometimes multiple times–until the record is righted.

In the record, kids get one of three scores. 1 = Satisfactory Completion (I am satisfied with their work based on the provided success criteria). .7 = Incomplete (the experience is incomplete, there are opportunities for better). 0 = Missing (I can’t invite or help them to better until I know where we start from). Why the .7? Good question. I have used different numbers in the past, and despite my intentions and earnest efforts to mitigate the effect of the percentage that shows up on Skyward, kids and parents are sensitized to this, and when they see a low percentage, they “freak out.” So, this year, I am offering a .7 as a middle ground. It’s enough to catch attention but not so much to cause an unnecessary panic. It’s communication. It’s an invitation to better.

And that’s how I am trying to reconcile the mess that happens when learning has to become grading. The best way to do it? Of course not, but I think for now it’s a better way until a discover a better way.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.