Been a quiet week. Literally. Long stretches of silence have filled room 206 as the kids have diligently dug in to our “Read to Remember” experience with Night. Nearly all will be finished by the end of the day. It’s been a quiet, beautiful space to live and learn in this week. I am proud of my kids’ quiet commitment to this important work. But I am ready to return to their necessary noise. There’s commitment in that, too.
Below are screenshots from a mass-solicitation email that showed up in my school email inbox yesterday from Schoology.
“Are you ready to protect learning from the weather…?”
Really? How about we protect kids from the inanity of compliance culture. It’s a snow day, a day off, a day that will be made up. We don’t need to control every minute of every day of kids’ lives. Let them be kids. Let them build a snowman, build a fort, have a snowball fight. Or maybe just let them sleep in. Whatever. It should be out of our locus of control. School can stay at school. It should stay at school.
Of course, my bias is seeping through here. I am a proponent of no homework. I have not assigned homework for a number of years now, believing that learning happens best in the classroom, where the kids and I come together as learner and teacher. Thus, our work is only ever schoolwork.
There are many reasons behind my approach–more than I can write about this morning, but the biggest reason is to minimize stress for my kids. They have way too much going on, and I choose not to add anything to their plates. I have the privilege of having a fifty-five minute slice of their days, and I believe our work should be limited to that time. My class is a fraction of their lives, and I act accordingly.
Yes, there are many who disagree with me. And no, the homework debate is nothing new in American public education (see http://www.ascd.org/publications/books/119001/chapters/The-Cult(ure)-of-Homework.aspx). It’s been debated and will continue to be debated for years to come. In the meantime, in my little corner of the world, the debate’s done. No homework. That’s a storm I can protect my kids from.
Bit of a follow up to yesterday’s post. I asked the kids to respond to the two questions below on a note card.
Answers varied, but most focused on learning or not learning. Too many focused on good grade v. bad grade (even after all I have done to combat this thinking). Some, as the quote above shows, were brutally honest. And some were rather thoughtful.
“I will have a chance to learn more about myself and the world.”
I collected their note cards, and then I gave them support in the form of time to read. Of course, ever seeking authenticity to a fault, I let them know that I would not babysit them about their phones or homework from other classes, but I would hold them accountable to maintaining a noise level (silence) for an optimal reading environment. And, they read. By and large, they read.
When we reach our deadline this week, I will pass back their note cards and ask them to respond to the following questions on the back.
Did you read Night?
Why?
Are you okay with your choice?
Why?
I will also ask those who finished to add their names to the “Memory Pledge” I presented yesterday.
We are reading to remember, and so I want the kids to take pride in their being members of the collective consciousness who have vowed never to forget. Above all, I want that for them.
For during reading, I will ask the kids to keep track of universal themes that Elie explores in each of the chapters as a resource for their final. I will also ask them to capture “lasting lines,” lines that will stick with them, that will become their memory. I recently asked them to identify their own “lasting lines,” lines they’d like their own readers to carry and keep from their own stories for our Wisdom Writers project. My hope here is that they see the power of story–others’ and their own.
Today will be day two for reading, for remembering. I hope that compels my young learners to read. It’s the only trick I have left in the bag.
Morning, all. Hope everyone had a restful, peaceful holiday. Mine was great, maybe too great. Gonna take a couple of days to get back into the groove. The same will be true for the kiddos, too.
But with the end of term upon us, we can’t take too long to get back in the swing of things. Too much to do. To few days left. But that’s always the case. So, we will do what we can with what we have.
One big item of importance that still remains is reading Elie Wiesel’s Night. And this year, I am going to try something different. We are going to do a “read-in to remember.” With the exception of Smiles and Frowns, we will devote every minute in class to reading his memoir this week. Our goal will be to finish it by Friday. For those who don’t, I will ask them to finish it over the weekend so we are officially done by next Monday. That’s the goal. Most will make it. Some won’t.
As I’ve discussed before, that is simply the reality, regardless of how much time I give. Kids will read, or they won’t. Yes, it will be used for our summative check on theme; yes, it is an important part of our collective humanity, and yes, all people should read it, but despite my efforts to inspire and motivate, some will simply not read it. And while that’s frustrating and disappointing, it’s what it is. So, why give them so much class time? I feel like I have to. I can’t stand in front of them and talk a big game and then not support what I expect. I will give them opportunity. I will support them with time. The reading is up to them. Here are two questions I will pose to get them to consider the implications of their choices.
What happens if you don’t read Night?
What happens if you do read Night?
I am interested in their responses. I want them to find their ways by considering their own cause-and-effect relationships with their learning. It’s in their hands.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…reconnecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…making choices about our learning.
…reading Night to discover connection and division in the human experience.
Time to rest, reflect, and recharge. I hope it’s just the boost we all need for the winter weeks ahead. In room 206 we will wrap up the year with Community Circle.
Have a great holiday, everyone. May you and yours find some joy this season. I’ll be back here on January 6th.
Wednesdays are “Kindness Card” days. After Smiles and Frowns, I distribute small cards (a sheet of paper cut into sixths) to the kids, and they write each other little notes of kindness. It has now become a ritual, and many kids have elevated the spirit of it by requesting more cards. I oblige. If they have more kindness, I have more paper.
Each week, I have seen kids venturing out and giving cards to people outside their immediate circles. And though it’s always nice to get a kindness card from someone close, it’s pretty cool to get one from someone outside our circle, too. It’s cool to see kids’ faces light up from the kind words of others with whom they are not close. For some it’s the first “contact” they’ve ever made with the other person. And where there’s contact, there can be connection. Kindness connects. I witness it every day, especially on Wednesday.
And, yes, “all this connection stuff” takes time. Smiles and Frowns, Kindness Cards, and Community Circle take time. They take a lot of time. And I give it. In the end, we all decide how we spend our time. For me, I have found focusing on the things that will matter in the end is reason enough to give them the time they require now. It’s hard for me to devote every second of our time to things that kids will mostly forget after the test next week. It’s hard for me to follow this singular path. In fact, it became impossible. I started to hear noises from the edge, and, distracted, I started to wander from the trail, stumbling upon something. The humans in the room. There are humans in the room. Of course, they’d been there all along, but I did not always see them. And once I saw them, I saw everything. Contact to connection. And, then, to content. But first, contact. Everything grows from there.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…submitting complete, but yet-to-be-edited drafts for Wisdom Writers.
I tried to fight it. I tried to hide it. But in the end, I let the tears run down my face–at school. This has now happened to me three times in my twenty-four years. Year two. Year eight. And now year twenty four. All three times I was caught off guard by a moment. Damn moments, they always seem to create leaks in this sentimental old fool’s face.
Year two. My first big goodbye. I had ended up following my first-year kids, whom I had as seventh graders, into eighth grade, so I had them for two years, and in that time we had become quite connected, quite close. For the last day of school, I had written the entire class a letter I called “The Last Word,” honoring each of the eighty-some kids with a personal mention. Before school started, just thinking about the moment started some premature leaking, and I went to a trusted colleague for some help, and she, a veteran teacher we called “Ma,” helped me patch myself up before class started. Thinking I had composed myself well enough, I headed to class (the bell had already rung). And as I walked in late, as if on cue, Green Day’s song, “Time of Your Life (Good Riddance),” started playing on the radio. The patchwork started falling off, and as I went to get the letters from my file cabinet, the dam broke and my face flooded in my “A fork stuck in the road” moment.
Year eight. Big move. Big changes. Moved back home here to Cheney. My wife, carrying our first child, stayed back in Royal with her fifth graders until it was time to have Finn, our son. So, it had been a hard, lonely transition that fall. Trying to hold onto the comfort that was Royal (taught middle school ELA there for seven years), I had been reading Freak the Mighty to my sophomores. We finished the book on Halloween, and as I read the last few lines, my voice caught a bit, and I was once again struck by a moment. I will never forget Matt Yancy’s patting me on the back telling me it was going to be okay, as I quietly cried at my desk. “No big deal.”
Year twenty four. Yesterday. It was at the end of our staff meeting and our student orchestra was there to play for us. And as they started to play, and as looked upon the amazing kids (both present and former students), I found myself caught again, and my face started leaking. But this one was different. I wasn’t crying amongst my kids in my classroom; I was crying amongst my colleagues in the library. Abashed, I hid it as best I could, and thankfully I think only a few witnessed my waterfall. Of the three moments, this was the most caught I’ve felt. Yes, the music was truly beautiful. Yes, I was immensely proud of the kids. And, yes, it was a moment, but it was not a moment like the others. So, I was surprised when the tears started trailing down my face. In my family, we talk about how we sometimes just need a good cry. And maybe that’s what yesterday was. Maybe I just needed a good cry. No big deal.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…cultivating kindness, connection, and community with our Kindness Cards.
We talk a lot about expectations in education. We signal both the need for high expectations and the danger of low expectations. But nearly always, the buzz is around teachers’ expectations for kids, not kids’ expectations for teachers. Yesterday, I decided to explore the topic a bit, starting with my #MyRoomMessage.
But the more I reread my own words and the more I thought about the idea of reciprocity with expectations, the more I found myself wondering, “What do kids expect from us?” So, I decided to ask them. At the end of each period, I asked the kids to share on a sticky note what they expected from teachers.
Of course, answers varied, but three common ideas emerged as I read through the sticky notes. Students expect us to be kind, patient, and supportive. And while I imagine these are considered given, the kids led me to believe they may not be as “given” as we think. And this gives me pause. These are not unreasonable expectations. As a parent, learner, human, I, too, share these expectations for the person at the front of the room, and while I do not believe any teachers would willfully be otherwise, I do know that these three essential elements are not always in play. But, I blame the game here more than the player. I point my finger at a system so focused on the business that they’ve seem to have forgotten about the customers–the humans in the room. Kids. Kids want to learn. I believe this. But to learn is to trust, and kids aren’t going to trust someone who can’t meet their basic needs: kindness, patience, and support.
In the system, if kids are not meeting our expectations we pour abundant resources into addressing the shortfall. But it seems, then, we should do the same for the shortfall of the system when it fails to meet the expectations of the kids, and this leads me to believe that perhaps the path is meeting kids’ expectations rather than always and only responding when they don’t meet ours. We’ve worn out the latter. Maybe it’s time we focus on the former if we really want to change education. Maybe instead of worrying about teaching kids to listen, we need to learn to listen to learn.
Mini milestone today. This is my 850th post since starting my blog four years ago. As I have said before, never did I imagine that I would blog so much or so long. It’s become a daily, school-morning habit now, an important reflective tool for me as I work to provide better learning experiences for my students. Some mornings, it comes easily to me, but others it eludes me. Either way, it’s now habit, and I sit here in the dark each morning trying to find my muse. How much longer? Not sure. I will at least finish out this year and continue next. That will give me five full years of Project 180, and we’ll see where my journey takes me from there.
For now, I will continue making my way one day at a time. Thank you to all of you who have joined me on my journey. Couldn’t do it without you.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…reconnecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…finishing up and revising our Wisdom Writers pieces.
