The world did not stop. It didn’t even pause as 138 kids took ownership of their learning last week in room 206. They took their first Learning Check. They scored it. They responded to what the feedback revealed. They submitted it. I learned from it. They learned from it. We learned from it.
Here’s what I learned from our first Learning Check.
The Learning Check itself was nothing profound. It’s a grammar test. And while it may be a stretch to call the process profound, it was–I believe–at least a powerful first step in getting the kids to take ownership. And a big part of that step was trusting in me and the process. It will take the kids awhile to fully trust my approach, but I think we headed in the right direction, and as we did, the world kept turning. Kids can own their learning. And they will if we let them. This I believe.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…stating themes (Learning Check #2).
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Monday, all. Hope you have a great start to your week.
On day 12, she finally shared. She finally shared during Smiles and Frowns. And it mattered.
As my regular readers know, I am steadfast in my insistence that we have to honor “passing” if we are doing Smiles and Frowns. It, I believe, has to be an act of commitment, not an act of compliance. So, yesterday, when she chose to share, she did it on her own; she did it because she wanted to, not because she had to. And it mattered. Her peers showed her that. They showed her that they were aware that she had not, and they showed her it mattered to them when she did. And I suspect it is likely she will share again based on the response of the community we’ve begun to build.
Twelve days in already connections are being created and barriers are breaking down. Kids are laughing with each other. Kids are empathizing with each other. Kids are “learning each other.” And I attribute that to Smiles and Frowns. I’ve said it before, and I will likely say it again,
“Smiles and Frowns is the best decision I have ever made as a teacher. It is a game changer, a difference maker. And I will never not do it again.”
I am proud of the communities we’ve begun in each of my classes. And while each is different, unique as the kids who populate them, they all have created connections that will take us far not only socially and emotionally but also academically. Smiles and Frowns is not a fringe activity to pass the time in room 206. Smiles and Frowns is the cog of our culture, everything starts and continues from it.
I know I beat this particular drum a bunch, but for me, for the last three years, it has been the spark I have needed to renew my conviction that we can, we will change education, one connection at a time. Call me a dreamer with my head in the clouds, but I believe this–with every fiber of my being. Connections matter. That is beat of my drum. That is the beat of my heart. And the beat goes on.
“Why are we taking a Learning Check tomorrow,” I asked.
“To check our learning,” they replied.
Today, before I give the Learning Check, I will ask the same question. And they, I expect, will give the same response. I will ask the same question every time we take one this year.
It’s a simple start. The kids are identifying subjects, predicates, nouns, and adjectives (I talked about the what and why of it in greater detail in Tuesday’s post, “Trust Trip.” http://www.letschangeeducation.com/trust-trip-project-180-day-10/). I started simply for a reason, for it is a rather different experience for the kids. They are not accustomed to having so much ownership over their learning. They are accustomed to taking tests for the teacher, for their grades. But here there is no grade. Only feedback. Oh, we’ll ferret out the grade eventually–per requirement at the end of the term–but for now, we are simply keeping track of our learning. And it is going to take the kids awhile to get used to my approach. It’s gonna take me awhile. Different is different.
I Invited the Kids to Cheat
Well, “invitation” is probably the wrong word. I guess I told them they can “choose to cheat.” It will be easy enough. There will be answer keys out as the kids finish up at different times and assess their own work. Johnny could just wait until Jimmy has the answer key out and copy down the correct answers. He could. But it doesn’t really buy him much. There is no score. There is only his learning. He has to own that. I provide–am trying to provide–the place and space for that to happen, but the experience will only be as authentic as he makes it. As they all make it. I will not play the hawkish teacher role today, trying to catch cheaters as they take their Learning Checks. I, instead, will simply level with the kids, telling them hey have to make choices as the proprietors of their learning. Their learning.
And with our first Learning Check today, we will take our first giant baby steps into our feedback-only experience in room 206 this year. I am eager to learn with and from the kids today, so I can continue to refine the approach along the way. Today is our first “do” to our next “better.”
In the end we pay the piper. There is always a price to pay. And we pay it. We have to. We’re teachers.
Teaching is a funny thing. And from the outside, it must seem an easy thing. We teach. They learn. We put in our 180 days. We take summers off. So the cycle goes. But a look inside may offer a different glimpse at the job and the price it exacts.
And while I do believe many may see through the outer shell, bearing an understanding of the challenges we daily face, I do not believe those without truly see what it is to teach.
Oh, I am not going to share a laundry list of the myriad challenges we face in our profession. I am not here to complain. No. Only explain. But it’s hard. It is no easy thing to describe the emotional toll teaching takes. But if I were to try, I would likely focus on the “on phenomenon” that is teaching.
Here’s what I mean to mean. I think one of the things that is neither fully seen nor fully understood is how exhausting it is to be “on” all the time. I liken it to five (or more) full theater performances per day as our adrenaline ebbs and flows with the passing of each period. And in each performance we play all parts imaginable: teacher, mentor, adult, friend, kid, parent, counselor, comedian, facilitator, role model, human, manager. The list goes on. And no performance is the same, an impossible impromptu show, stretching our emotional range and testing our technical expertise as the kids give rise, give life to the parts we play. And the play goes on. And on.
And then, at the end, when the last kid walks out the door, the piper comes to collect what’s left–even if there’s nothing left.
For years, even though my wife herself is a teacher and truly gets it, my family has found my exhaustion at the end of the day a little…well, maybe a little exaggerated, but that changed a bit this year. My son is in my class, and as such, he has “seen the inside” a little more closely, recently remarking,
“No wonder you’re so tired at the end of the day. You ‘bring it.'”
And as funny as this may sound, I found some relief in his understanding. He now better understands–hopefully accepts–why I may not have been the best after-school dad all these years. I was tired. I was empty. The piper took much. There was often little left for them. And there was rarely anything left for me.
Of course, I know–I know–this is not exclusive to me. This is every teacher. I am every teacher. Every teacher is me. So, please know that I am not suggesting I pay a higher price than others. I don’t. But I pay a price. We all do. And please know, too, I am not seeking sympathy. I love what I do, and though I have taken measures to better take care of myself and my family–leaving school at school, I can’t help doing what I do, and I suspect that true for all my colleagues, too. We are teachers. We pay a price. We always will.
Maybe I’m a sucker. Maybe I place too much trust in kids. Maybe I am misguided in my thinking that commitment carries the day over compliance. But I gotta feeling, and…well, I trust my gut, and it tells me to trust them. So, I do. I trust my kids. Guess I am on “trust trip” of sorts.
My latest “trust trip” is in the land of assessment and feedback. As most of my followers know, I have worked diligently over the last three years to move grading to the edges and learning to the center, and to do so, I have had to step–sometimes, leap–away from conventional practices. Here is my latest leap.
Our work with the CCSS language standards has resulted in my doing a five-minute daily entry task, which I am calling “Grammar Growth: An exposure and experience model to teaching grammar. I first wrote about it last week in my “Trying to Know” post http://www.letschangeeducation.com/trying-to-know-project-180-day-4/. But that’s not the leap. Grammar entry tasks are nothing new. The leap, if you will, comes at the end.
Every two weeks the kids will take a Learning Check (this is what I call my assessments). This Thursday is their first and it will go something like this.
The kids will identify subjects, predicates, nouns, and adjectives. They will circle the simple subject, underline the simple predicate, write “N” above nouns, and write “ADJ” above the adjectives. No, this is not the leap. In truth, it’s kind of a baby step. Yes, it is “grammar in isolation.” Why? Kids are held to account on their achievement in this on high stakes standardized tests. And though it is not a game I condone, it is a game I will play for five minutes a day to help kids.
The kids will use their notebooks for a resource. They choose to do the daily entry task in their notebooks, knowing that they have the opportunity to build a resource. Choice is trust. I do not make the kids do the entry task. I do not check or collect their notebooks. I encourage them to do outside research and add to their notebooks. They make a choice. Choice is trust.
Once the kids are done with the Learning Check (LC), they will go to the back counter, grab a key, and assess their own work. They will make necessary corrections and complete a “Response to Feedback” form, which has three basic components set up by these questions.
What learning targets did you experience?
What did the feedback reveal?
What did you do as a result of the feedback?
Here the “feedback” is the answer key. These particular LC’s are objective, so there is not much for me to add, so I enlist the kids to check their own work. Well, can’t they just write the correct answers in? Yes. They can choose to do that. And I will tell them as much. I will tell them on Thursday that they can choose to do just that, but I will also tell them that that choice will buy them little. There is no grade. There is a learning record, which, once all parts are complete, will be a 1/1 in Skyward. There is no grade. Only learning. They are called learning checks for a reason. They are opportunities to check learning. The kids have to own that. It is their learning.
So, if I am not scoring these, how will I know how the kids are doing? I’m going to have a sheet on the back counter where kids turn their LC’s in. The sheet will be divided into four columns: subjects, predicates, nouns, adjectives. I will ask the kids to put a tally mark in any column for which they missed an item on the LC. For example, if they did not correctly identify a simple subject, they will place a tally in that column and so on. They tally sheet, in principle, will give me a glimpse into how they are doing as a whole, showing me where we need to spend more or less time. This is a big picture view. Each kid will have a personal snapshot of their performance with their RTF.
This is the plan for now. These LC’s will get into more complicated areas of grammar soon enough, and there will be some items that I will have to assess, but I plan to have the kids take an active part all year long in the assessment–really, in the ownership–of their learning.
A sucker? Maybe. Too much trust? How much is too much? Okay, probably. Okay, yes. I trust kids too much. There, I said it. Does commitment really carry the day? Not sure. But as I think back on my many years of using the “compliance model,” I lived with no less doubt about learning. In truth, it was a constant companion, as I tried in various ways to “make” kids learn with grades. So, I am okay with the doubt of different. It feels more right than wrong. I never did like the power trip. I prefer the trust trip. I’ll keep my compass pointed there.
A bit tired and uninspired on this Monday morning. Staring at the screen trying to capture something isn’t working, so I’m not going to force it. Some days it just doesn’t come to me. Consequently, this 791st Project 180 post will be short and lame. Sorry. Tomorrow will be better. Usually is.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…reconnecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…connecting to others’ stories (Freedom Writers).
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Monday, all. Sorry I came up empty this morning.
I once prided myself on my ability to keep kids silent. I ran a tight, quiet ship. It, I thought, was the mark of a classroom staged for learning. I now think I thought wrong. Learning is human. Learning is social. Learning is noisy. I set the stage differently now.
Of course, there are times when the script calls for quiet and noise needs to be addressed, needs to be regulated, but as I’ve outgrown my compliance model of old, I have come up with new ways to create commitment opportunities for my kids. I don’t want to force them into compliance. I want to nudge them into commitment.
Eight days in, I have found it’s time to nudge a few of my talkers. Here’s the conversation I hope to have today.
Me:Hey, guys. How ya feelin’ about your talking?
Them:Eh, we probably talk too much.
Me:Agree. But I’m stuck. I don’t want you to stop talking. I value your energy and voices. But we need to find a way to manage your talking.
Them:Okay.
Me: I have an idea. Keep talking. But I want you to monitor it. I want you to try to be aware of how much you’re talking. And then, at the end of the period, I want a report. It’s just between us. It will be subtle. When we go to do Journey Journals, I want you to give me a sign with your fingers. 3, we did well. 2, we did okay. 1, we didn’t do well. I also want you to write the number at the top of your journal entry for the day. Let’s start Monday. And then let’s check back in on Friday to see how the week went. Okay?
Them:Okay.
Of course, I cannot really know how they will respond, and of course, this approach may fail miserably, but as I thought about my student teacher’s question yesterday about how we deal with talking, my mind rejected compliance strategies and set to finding commitment opportunities. And this is where I landed.
They are not acting disrespectfully and they do come to attention when necessary, but outside that, they are talkers, offering running commentary on just about everything. And I think–perhaps–it may very well be that they’re just not fully aware of how much they’re talking and how interruptive it can be. I say interruptive because it’s not really disruptive. They interrupt more than they disrupt. Maybe semantics. Either way, I am going to ask them to be aware. My hope is that they then come to a place of self-regulation.
Will it work? I don’t know. If it doesn’t, we will come at it from a different angle. It’s all we can do. Humans together. Living. Learning.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…connecting with others through their stories (Freedom Writers entries).
Because I do things differently, I have to own the responsibility that comes with that.
This was part of my message to parents last night at open house. With only ten minutes to share too much information about an approach that is radically different from their kids’ other teachers, I had to acknowledge, had to own the responsibility that there will be a need for clarification down the road. So, I invited them, welcomed them to please email me when they needed me to clarify my approach–as many times as necessary. I accept the “responsibility of “different.”
Skyward’s gonna be problematic.
Skyward, our online grading program, fits not well my approach. It is built around the percentage-based approach to grading. So, for those of us who dare different, it presents a challenge. It can be a problem. Here is how I am addressing the problem. Here is what I told parents.
“Skyward is not my grade book. It is a recording and communication tool. I keep record of your kids’ Learning Checks as a way to communicate their experiences and progress. If ever you see something that you want more information on, please email me.”
I don’t give F’s and I want everyone to get an A.
I told parents that I shared this with their kids in class yesterday when we were discussing my learning practices. I wanted to make a point.
(to the kids) “Okay, we know no one is going to fail and we know it is likely that most will get an ‘A.’ So there, we had the grading conversation. That leaves learning. That’s our focus in here, not grading.”
Your child doesn’t take Learning Checks (assessments) to put grades in the grade book. They take Learning Checks to give me an opportunity to provide them with feedback.
I emphasized this to parents as I was explaining the basic learning experience in my class. Practice. Learning Check. Feedback. Response. I use assessment for learning. It creates the opportunity for feedback from the teacher and a response from the learner. And the process continues for as long as the learner needs. Learning is a circle, not a line.
And, for the most part, that is what filled our ten minutes together last night. Of course there was more to tell–more different to deliver–but I believe we got off to a great start, and together we will work to create a rich learning experience for the kids we daily share, for the kids they place in my trust, a trust I take not lightly. And as I dare different, I feel a keen sense of responsibility to work hard to keep that trust.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing with grammar.
…considering the purpose and power of story.
…viewing coverage of Rodney King trial and the L.A riots to create context for Freedom Writers.
Is there are a distinction between how we learn in school and how learn outside of school? Explain.
What is teaching?
I am going to ask my kids to consider and discuss these questions today prior to my sharing my learning practices, which are quite different from the practices they encounter in their other classrooms. So, to help situate them in the learning context of my classroom, I want to connect with them, hear from them, learn from them about this thing we call teaching and learning.
But they are kids. What do they know about teaching and learning? You went to college for that. You are the expert on teaching and learning?
Am I? Did I have a firm grasp on this as I left university?
But you have taught for twenty-four years, surely you know what needs to be known about teaching and learning.
Do I? Do I hold the corner on what is learning, what is teaching?
I don’t think so. I didn’t think so when I started Project 180 three years ago (In truth, it’s why I started Project 180 three years ago). And I don’t think so now at the start of year four. But, as I start, my eyes and ears are wide and open as I seek to learn more about this thing we call teaching and learning. And I will make the kids partners in this endeavor. For, while they are not officially trained, they are sufficiently experienced to bring their perspective to the table as they have been on the other end of this thing we call teaching and learning for some time now. And, from that place, I will ask them to help me capture learning this year. Their learning.
Learning Practices
This is what I will share with the kids today as we set the stage for their learning experiences, their stories this year. I will also share it with parents tonight at our open house.
So, you do have a corner on teaching and learning?
No. Decidedly, no. I am not sharing this from a place of knowing. I am sharing it from a place of wanting to know. It is simply the latest manifestation of my chasing better, of my earnest efforts to learn more and better about this thing we call teaching and learning. I am not sharing because I have the answers. I am sharing because I don’t.
It had to happen. Sooner or later, we had to have the talk. I chose a bit later.
Yesterday, we finally had the talk.
Cellphones.
Every teacher has to have the cellphone talk. It’s our reality, and so we have to establish our phone policies in our classrooms.
I chose not to have the talk the first three days. Oh, I politely asked kids to put their phones away during Smiles and Frowns, and I casually mentioned that we’d eventually discuss my phone policy, but for the most part I ignored phone use. We had other, more important things to address, but upon rolling out my 4 R’s last Friday, I decided it was time we established my policy for phone use in room 206.
A few years ago, tired of the phone fight, I decided to compromise with kids, and I began granting a “Brain Break” halfway through the period, a time for them to stand, stretch, talk, use the restroom, get a drink, and…check their phones. In truth, maybe it should be called a “Phone Break.” It’s how the majority of the kids use it. But it’s their time, and, well, it’s the main reason I did it.
So yesterday, before we got going, I told the kids we had to talk, and I shared my policy with them. Outside of the “Brain Break” and unless otherwise directed by me (using them as learning devices), phones are to remain out of sight.
Of course, though I think kids generally respect me, my stating my policy doesn’t magically end any and all issues with phones. Kids will still give into their impulses to check their phones, will still try to sneak peaks. And when they do, I will politely–usually privately–ask them to put their phones away. For those who just cannot help themselves, I will politely ask them to place their phones on my desk. They are not in trouble. They just need my help. They may have their phones back at “Brain Break.”
For me, really it’s more about time. Our time together is short, so I need them fully present. And though I am guardedly selfish with that time, I am willing to give up three minutes of it for them to attend to the other areas of their lives, which may not be important to me, but they are important to them. And I try to acknowledge and honor that. Further, and I discussed this with the kids yesterday, we don’t do homework. My class only ever takes up fifty-two minutes of their days, and in that brief blip, I need them to be fully here. I quipped yesterday that if they needed to recoup the screen time deficit that occurs in my class, they can consider recovering it later as homework.
Mom: Why are you on your phone?
Son: Doing my LA homework. Sy said I could catch up on my screen time on my time.
Jokes aside. I tried to level with the kids yesterday. I feel like my policy and purpose registered with them, and I believe our phone issues will be minimal this year. To be sure, they–regardless the policy–will always be an issue, but I believe if we level with kids and are reasonable with our policies, we can take the fight out of it.
