Was pleased that Teacher2Teacher promoted this again on social media this past weekend.
Better. Better’s been my word. Whether it’s guiding me as a teacher, a husband, a father, a friend, or a “self,” it’s become my guide as I make my way through the trials and triumphs of my personal and professional life. For much of my life, I thought good or great (sometimes perfect) were the way, but those were not always realistic or healthy pursuits, as I created–and let others create–impossible standards, creating an endless cycle of either feeling a failure when I didn’t or fearing a fraud if I did. So, I discovered better. And it’s made me…better.
I try to pass this on to my kids in the classroom, telling them that the worst they can do is a chance at better. And that assurance has become the hallmark in the 180 classroom for both academics and behavior. A believer in possibility, I choose to make my room a realm of possibility. I can’t promise my kids chances at better if I don’t provide possibility. So, I do. For I believe, as long as they are pursuing better, they are learning. I believe as long as any of us are chasing better, we are learning. I believe in better.
Head on a swivel. Eyes searching. I’m on a mission. This is my hallway routine. I am looking for something. I know they are there. They are always there, so I look. I have to catch them. It’s my job. And when I do, I call them out. Well, I call them in.
“Hey, (any name you can imagine). How ya doing, kiddo?”
Got ’em! Hard to get by me. I am a seasoned searcher, and as I said, I’m on a mission, a self-assigned hallway monitor. I seek out my kiddos past and present, and I call to them. Sometimes, it’s across the hall. Sometimes, it’s a surprise as I fall in beside them and bump them on the shoulder. Sometimes, I see a few. Sometimes, I see so many I can barley shout them out as we zoom past each other, but I do shout them out. Sometimes, they act as if they are surprised that I can still “see them” outside my room. Most times, they cast me a warm smile and a “Hey, Sy.”
Yesterday, crowded and crunched, I spied a kiddo I haven’t seen much since last year, and I hurried a “Hey, kiddo,” as we passed, both being carried along by the traffic on our respective sides of the hall. Saw her again as we were leaving our diversity assembly.
“Hey, Sy. You made my day.”
“Oh, how did I do that, kiddo?”
“You said ‘hey, kiddo’ earlier. I miss that.”
Hey, kiddo. Sometimes, that’s all our kids need. A simple “I see you.”
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…considering and ranking “American Values.”
…selecting and sorting personal values.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Thursday, all. No school for us tomorrow (we have a professional learning day). So, no post. Back here on Tuesday. Have a great weekend.
Ugh. Still struggling. Sorry to keep whining. Makes one appreciate his health even more. Limped through the day yesterday. Was not myself, and I hate that feeling with the kids. Even my son, who is in my class, commented, “Yeah, Dad, I could tell you weren’t yourself today.”
Well, won’t fully be myself today either. But I’ll give it my all, even if my all is less than I’d like. Of course, the kids have been very empathetic and supportive, and I appreciate that. Glad I have them to carry me when I can’t keep up.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…cultivating community with Kindness Cards.
…growing with grammar.
…considering societal and personal values.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Wednesday, all. Sorry for the lame posts this week.
Still under the weather today, but I am gonna brave it and head to school. Too much to do, and the days are passing too quickly. I did get a lot of rest yesterday, and I do feel less bad. So, off to work I go. Heigh-Ho!
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…presenting CRE analyses of a Gen Z in the workforce article.
…reflecting on last week’s question, “How does the world view you?”
…continuing our viewing of a documentary on the American Dream.
Some days it’s more pronounced than others. Some days it’s more than I believe I can handle. Some days it strikes me as almost comedic–too crazy to be real, too real to be crazy. And on those days, I just lean into my students and embrace the crazy that is teaching.
If it were a lunar mission, Houston would be on high alert, scrambling to coordinate all the variables for a successful landing. It would take a control room full of the best and brightest to pull off such a feat. But there is no comm link to any such lifeline. There’s just me, my kids, and a veritable shot at the moon. Our own lunacy landing.
Of course, I offer “lunacy” more whimsically than disparagingly. For while there are days when it really is too much, for the most part, I love our crazy, complicated mission to the moon.
But also, of course, though I play with words here, there is a serious side to the mission with problems arising that are bigger than I can handle as each kid brings their own struggles along on the trip, and it feels as if we’re spinning through space, precariously patched together with little more than tape and staples. No Houston to call. No control room full of the best and brightest to help us adjust our course. No. Just us. And that is what we rely on: us. And though our landings are sometimes clunky, awkward, and even hard, we touch down each day, already planning our next mission, hoping to get it better tomorrow.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…accessing and sharing information with a jigsaw activity.
…analyzing arguments for claims, reasons, and evidence.
…reflecting on our Question of the Week (QoW: How does the world see you?)
They didn’t really believe me. I could see it in their eyes. And why would they? After all, with the exception of a friend or two and a few familiar faces, they were among strangers, even I was a stranger, who was standing in front of them telling them we would become–claiming that we were–a community as I shared their second most important role (see below) a the outset of our journey.
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.
That was over ninety days ago. Things have changed at semester with the shuffling of schedules, and change is hard. Change is strange. The kids told me so. “I miss our old class.” “There are too many strangers in the room.” “I am nervous again about sharing during Smiles and Frowns; I don’t know these people.”
“But you will,” I tell them, reminding them that they had the same worries all those days ago when we first started our time together. “You–we–will build new bonds and create new connections. We will become a community again. We are a community.“
And they believe me. I can see it in their eyes. And why wouldn’t they? I delivered on my promise then, and I believe they trust that I will deliver on my promise now. Of course, I couldn’t do it without Smiles and Frowns. So, maybe, then, it’s not so much they trust me as much as they trust Smiles and Frowns, as much as they trust themselves, for it is they not I who’ve really created the connections. I am just along for the ride. And what a ride it’s been.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…seeking to understand others’ views with SOAPSTone.
I have long held to the belief that there’s folly in the “each-generation-is-worse” line of thinking. My parents were worse than than their parents, who were worse than theirs, and the list goes on. Of course, then, it goes without saying that I am worse than my parents, and now my own kids (Generation Z) are the “current worst.” But wait, another generation is coming. And like the generations before, in a world of constant change, they will reign as the new worst of the worse. I don’t buy it. Never have.
As a teacher, I often hear the remark, “Kids these days.” But also, as a teacher, my experiences have taught me that kids are kids. That doesn’t change. But days, they do change, and as we adapted to “our days,” these kids are just adapting to their days, which are drastically different from our own, which will be decidedly different from their own children’s days.
As one who has devoted now twenty-four years of my life working with “kids these days,” I have found hope in each as they make their way through their days, through their worlds. And I feel no less hope for the Gen Z kids who fill my desks right now. In fact, I want to help turn that hope into reality this spring with our “Broken to Better Project,” challenging the kids in these next eighty-eight days to find what’s broken in their inherited world and make it better. Of course, what this generation accomplishes remains to be seen, but I have high hopes for them to if not solve problems, then to mend what’s broken by coming together where past generations have struggled: between. As our generations further retreat to their “certain ends,” I plan to challenge my kids to find better between the ends.
As such, we will set the stage with this Essential Question:
How can we come together to build a better tomorrow?
This week our work will begin with this Guiding Question:
How does the world view me?
I want the kids to consider how the world views their generation. Next week, I will ask them how they view the world. But first, this week, we will begin by looking at Gen Z’s place in the world. Today, we will begin by watching Moses Lake High School teacher Kimber Lybbert’s TEDx Talk that took place right here in Spokane, “Dear Grown-ups…Sincerely, Gen Z.”
I stumbled across this last weekend as I was looking for some Gen Z resources. I am thrilled I found it. I am thrilled it was in Spokane. I am more thrilled it was by a fellow Washington teacher. But I am most thrilled that Kimber painted a perfect picture with her words. I am truly inspired by what she shares about this generation, about “these kids,” whom I have come to know and love. These kids. These kids will change the world.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting for the first time in our new semester classes with Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…considering our place in the world as “these kids.”
…viewing and analyzing “Dear Grown-ups…Sincerely, Gen Z.”
We will learn a lot of important things in here this year, but of all the things we learn, nothing is more important than the people in here. So, we will learn each other.
Last day of the first semester. And as I think back on the first day–a strange place with strange faces–and I see how far we’ve come, I am proud of the communities we’ve constructed and the cultures we’ve cultivated in each of my classes–no two the same, created and connected by the time shared, the experiences lived, and the lives learned. And we have learned lives. We have learned each other–every day. I spoke the above words to my kids when I introduced Smiles and Frowns ninety days ago. And now, here at the end, I will take my kids back to where our journey began–with the people in the room.
And as the people in the room, today, we will cap our time together with a final Community Circle, our most important final. And, sadly, it is final. Time’s run out. Schedules have shifted. And things will never be the same as we move our moments to memory today.
Happy Friday, all. Have a wonderful weekend. Won’t be back on here until Tuesday. We have a mid-winter break on Monday.
Ninety days in. Ninety days out. And as I stand here between, I am proud of the experiences we have shared in room 206, learning about our world, learning about ourselves. I am proud of the chapters my kids have added to their learning stories thus far, and though I have just begun to sift through the finer details, I am pleased with what they have revealed about their learning. I will share some of those details next week. But for now, with three more classes coming to the table today to capture their learning, I am going to keep it between them and me–us–at this momentous midpoint in our journey: between our ends.
Today and tomorrow, the kids will take the lead. I will hand them the pen and ask them to capture their learning for the semester. I will ask them to look back over the last several weeks, to look inside their evidence portfolios, to look inside themselves as they seek to capture the essence of their experience. They will speak. And I will listen.
My earnest goal is to give them the last word. It is, after all–as I have often said, as the documents and their experiences reflect–their learning, their stories. But, I will also remind them, that I play a role, and I have to see what they see, and in that, we have to agree. If at first I don’t see, I will then seek to better understand what they do, and we will eventually come to a place where we are satisfied with the end we find.
Of course, in my having done this now for three years, I have found that by and large, I see what the kids see in their first telling, so really there are very few “rewrites.” What’s more, in truth, most “rewrites” are my insisting that kids “upgrade” themselves, for their selected grade is lower than what the evidence suggests. And with that in mind, I will tell them that I hold the veto power to upgrade them when they have come up short. And that’s the only real “power play” I make in the process. In the event of having to “downgrade” (a rare occurrence), I approach the matter far more delicately, seeking to balance the power between us.
Am I doing it right? I don’t know. It may just be that I am doing it differently. But, I can tell ya, it doesn’t feel wrong to make kids a part, to give kids a voice. It feels right. I can’t say that was how I felt when I held the power alone, when I felt like I was doing something to kids, rather than with kids. When I felt like I alone knew the truth of their learning, trusting to the story recorded in my grade book.
In the end, I respect kids. And that respect has grown considerably over the course of my career. And I believe one of the most respectful things I have ever done for my kids, for my learners, is to give them a voice in determining their learning. They know. They know what they have learned. They know. So, I let them speak their truth. I have to, or I haven’t given them a voice at all.
