Not finding the words this morning. They’re there. I can feel them. But they hide. And though I can sense them on the edge of my being and I earnestly call them forth, they hesitate, they wait. It’s a game we sometimes play. They will not come. They will make me come to them, as if to say, “If you raise us from the shadows, you must own what you say, reap what you sow. We will not come.” So, I must go to them. But this morning I pause, for I have learned a pen too eager for words not ready can be trouble. So I will wait. But I don’t want to.

I want to share my deepening dilemma with allowing the stranger that is standardized testing into our room as it disrupts and defiles our sacred space, my fight-or-flight teetering on a precipice offering danger with either step.

If I fight (and I want to), I risk raising the storm outside my room, an invitation to more stranger danger as I call attention to my reason and resolve and a battle’s begun, from which I will not back down but of which I cannot win. Can I afford a pyrrhic victory?

If I flee (and I won’t) and hide inside my room, the stranger will come anyway. And in its coming, it will not care a whit for the names and the stories behind them, as it seeks to name them numbers, winners and losers. And I, I cannot readily reconcile such an uninvited violation of the humans I harbor in this space made sacred, this home we occupy. Can I just stand by?

I don’t know. The answer waits. Words for another day.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…crafting an introduction.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…discussing Why with Sy.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all. Sorry for the “strange” post this morning. Struggling with this. Thank you for letting me try to find my words this morning.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

kids:
they dance before they learn
there is anything that isn’t music.

from “Keepsakes,” William Stafford

I have done it at least a hundred times. Sat in a circle with kids, sharing, listening, and building community. Long before I began Smiles and Frowns, I did Community Circle with my kiddos. And though each session was itself gold, last week was my most golden yet.

But first, here are the basics of Community Circle. As the name suggests, we sit in a circle around the room. We used to move all the desks and sit on the floor, which added a comfortable intimacy to the activity, but it was…well, the floor. Now, we just arrange the desks.

We establish, re-establish our simple guidelines: be great listeners (no talking while others are sharing, and making a visual connection with the speaker), snap or clap agreement, share appropriate answers, ask for a “comeback” if you are not ready, and pass if you choose. The right to pass is imperative. This should be something kids want to do, not something they have to do. Some kids pass. Most don’t. In my experience, they are eager to share.

And, then, we get started. I pose a question/prompt, and we go around the room until everyone has a turn, and we move on to the next topic. We do it for roughly forty minutes on the first Friday of each month.

This month, we moved it to last Wednesday because of the three-day week created by conferences. It started as any other Community Circle: kids shared; we listened; we built community. But then, on a whim, during third period (my second class of the day), I pushed the kids. And they responded.

“Would you rather sing or dance in public?” I have used this “Would you rather” dozens of times with past classes, and kids have simply responded, “sing” or “dance.” But, this time, finding myself seated next to Marlena, an accomplished ballerina, I said, “Okay, do it,” when she said “dance.” Her mouth dropped open; she looked to her peers whose own expressions revealed their wide-eyed knowing of what was about to go down: they would actually have to sing or dance.

All eyes were on Marlena. She moved her desk, went to the middle, and danced–beautifully. The ball was rolling. And it didn’t stop. Kid after kid sang or danced, or both–and not always beautifully, but my gosh we had a blast. Of course, the kids didn’t have to. I never make them do something they do not want to, and the right to pass is sacred in room 206, and some kids certainly–understandably–used it in later periods. After all, who wants to sing or dance in public?

Turns out, most of my kids did, some completely shocking me. I could not believe they stepped out of their closely-guarded comfort zones. From there we settled into more serious topics, ending with, “When is the last time you cried and why?” From the frivolity of dance to the vulnerability of tears, we learned each other last Wednesday, creating community, building bonds.

Of course, some might suggest that we were wasting valuable instruction time with such nonsense as singing and dancing. But once, before we taught them differently, kids moved and sang without apprehension, without prodding, with joy–because they found it natural, normal, necessary. And then, we showed them the “sense” of things, and they stopped dancing. Wish we hadn’t.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…reconnecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…writing introductions for argumentative letters.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…discussing Why with Sy.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Morning, all. Day two of conferences. Had so many great conversations yesterday with parents and kids. Anticipate the same again today. Here is what I handed to and discussed with parents during conferences. I was particularly pleased to include how I address kids’ social-emotional learning, an area that I believe is undervalued and under-served in education. Have yet to meet a parent who does not want me to make their child’s social and emotional well-being a priority.

My hope is that by calling greater attention to this important aspect of kids’ educational experiences, parents will come to ask about it as readily as they ask about academic learning. But one can do more than hope, so that is why I am trying to place it in front of our work, place it at the center of our conversation. It matters.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Morning, all. Short post to keep pace with the passing 180 days. No kids today or tomorrow. We have parent-teacher conferences across the district. Because teachers are available, they actually count as school days. Looking forward to talking to parents.

Have a great day.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

They come, they go. Sometimes, I know why. More often than not, I don’t. Some have been with me since day one, others seem to drop in for a few weeks–sometimes, a few days–and then they are gone. Ghosts. I live among ghosts.

Of course, I am not talking a high percentage. The majority of my roster remains intact, but kids disappear. They always have. And it’s always bugged me, haunted me. Teaching, above all, is an investment in people, and, as such, we cannot help becoming emotionally attached to those in whom we invest. Most of our investments carry a 180-day guarantee. They are with us the entire year, and though it hurts when the “contract” expires in June, and they move on, we can somewhat prepare ourselves, steel ourselves for the moment. But this is not so for the unexpected, often unexplained departures that create hollow spots in our rooms, in our persons. It really hurts.

I “lost” two to the fog this week. Enveloped. Vanished. Two spirits turned to ghosts. And there’s nothing I can do about it, except pull the remaining spirits in my room closer. But of course, on the other side of that blessing is the curse that comes in June when they, too, flee into the fog.

Ah, the teacher’s life. Beautiful. Painful. Fulfilling. Haunting. I imagine there’s nothing really quite like it.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…building community with Community Circle (supposed to happen on the first Friday of every month, but I put it off till today, which is sort of a Friday for the kids; we have conferences for the next two days).

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…discussing Why with Sy.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all. No “real posts” for the next two days without school. But I have something else cooking that I will share with you soon. Have a great day.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I’m not a good dancer. Would rather get a root canal than have to dance in public. Still remember–vividly, painfully–my first public appearance in 7th grade, 34 years ago, when Kelly Wright pulled me away from the wall, which I had been holding up all night, and onto the floor. Had no idea what to do, so I followed the crowd. Never did get it right. Awkward. Clumsy. Self-conscious. Ugh.

But, in a different sense, in a different way, in a different time, and on a different floor, I have learned some steps along the way, and even if I can’t cut a rug, I can move pretty well in the classroom. My kids have taught me to dance–so to speak.

Of course, I am not speaking literally here. I am not dancing with my kids. But I am not not dancing either, for it is choreographed, each requiring a different step, a different tune, a different beat. They lead. I follow, and as the year goes on, I learn the moves.

I know what a thumbs up means from S.

I understand why T passes each day in Smiles and Frowns.

I anticipate J’s fun fact each day as he grins his delight in sharing.

I know E has to draw; it’s her oxygen, so I let her breathe.

I know S has to help with something, anything, so I find her jobs.

I know M will begin every Performance with “I can’t” always to end with “I can.”

I know J’s sarcasm is love.

I know N’s just being here is a dance in itself.

I know, because they show, and I pay attention. And eventually, I come to know the subtle and not-so-subtle moves of each as we daily dance through our year. And then, the music stops, and they leave me behind, but not without, for they have left me better than I was with memories of moves that will make me a better partner for next year’s troupe when the dance begins again.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…taking control in writing through hooks and context.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…discussing Why with Sy.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. (and maybe dance a little along the way)

Time is a trickster, a mirage, a con. He lulls us into security with the promise of all the days ahead, and we enter into the year thinking we will reach far ends, distant lands with our kids. 180 days seems a lifetime in September. In March, it seems a blink, a mission impossible. Of course, when one considers kids first and content second, it only plays into time’s hands.

But I cannot help it. Are there things to get to, to cover? Impossibly. Is the state test coming up? Sadly. Lots to do. But there are kids in the room, too. And I am devoted to them, and, as such, there are times when that devotion is at odds with the calendar. We can plan content, but we, at best, can only predict kids. And even then, our predictions can only hit half the marks as kids and life take twists and turns that were not clear in the crystal ball.

And now with a mere 63 days ahead, I fret a bit about my choices this year. Should I have “contented” more and “kidded” less? What ends await? What will my kids take with them? Should I speed up? Should I push through the mountain pass even though it’s not clear? And though maybe I wonder and worry aloud, I am just making noise. I already know the answers. The voice in my head speaks clearly, “You will consider kids. Time be damned. He is but a construct. Your kids are real. They set the pace. They create the calendar. Listen to your kids.”

Of course, this “voice” may simply be a convenient rationalization for a guy who seems unwilling–maybe unable–to acquiesce to the dictates of time. But time tells lies. Doesn’t it? In all my “time” as a teacher, I have never found my experiences nor my kids marching uniformly to time’s drum, reaching the same place in the same way at the same time. Time is an impossible journey. We cannot keep up. But we try. I try. Every single year, I fall victim to time’s tempt, and I think maybe, just maybe, this will be the year that I keep pace. This year is not the year. Time be damned. Maybe next year.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…reconnecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…considering and constructing an argument.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…discussing Why with Sy.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Can’t explain it. But I’ll try. Yesterday, I felt a moment. It was palpable, nearly touchable. I didn’t experience it. I felt it.

I’m not sure if it started with Ryan, the mechanical wizard who otherwisehates school, sharing–as he does now daily–that his smile was being in my class.

Maybe it was my wonder at Brennan’s business brilliance as he shared his work during our “Sittin’ with Sy” session. He talked beyond the three-allotted minutes. Usually I cannot get him to elaborate on anything. And yesterday, I found myself in a “who-is-this-kid?” moment. I am still stunned by the confidence and enthusiasm he exuded.

Or possibly it was Dominique’s dive into sharing her native culture with her classmates as they sat and stared in wonder as she explained pow-wows to them and her role as a dancer. Dom is short, but yesterday, she was 10 feet tall.

And, of course, there was Leonie our foreign exchange student from Germany who was getting me to say–well, to try–the most difficult German words for foreigners to pronounce, recording me with her phone, so she could share it with her parents, whom she misses terribly. We laughed and laughed.

Maybe it was the other Ryan, the awkward kiddo who was badly bullied earlier in the year (see “Broken” http://www.letschangeeducation.com/project-180-day-71/), who excitedly shared his draft with me, taking careful measure of my feedback as we talked about his next better.

Or maybe it was the quiet moment after, as I paused from chasing my tail all period, and I looked out on my kids and felt. I just felt. It was there. They were there. I was there. We were there. I’ll never forget it. I tried to explain it to my kids, and I wasn’t sure I was succeeding until one of them said, simply, “We know Sy.”

Man, I could get hooked on that feeling.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…the joy of personal reading.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…discussing Why with Sy.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

How are you?

What are you working on?

How can I help?

These are my new FAQ’s. Yesterday, inspired by one of my Twitter follows Amy Fast, an assistant principal in Oregon, who encouraged us to ask students how they are doing, I made a small tweak to my conferencing-with-kids approach.

In an ongoing, not-always-easy effort to create time for one-on-one conferences with my kiddos, I recently created a schedule to meet with half my kids each week on Wednesdays and Thursdays. I want this to be an intentional must in our classroom culture, a sacred routine. I have come close many times to making it so, but I have allowed “things” to get in the way, and we end up with more misses than hits, and…well, it’s never quite stuck. This year I vowed to make it so, and with only 65 days ahead, I think–maybe–I moved closer to making my must a reality, and Amy helped.

Keepin’ It Simple

Past efforts have often gotten bogged down with my trying to make the experience too formal: keeping record, tracking data, etc. And while these things carry value, they also create cumbersome, often clumsy conversations. And, as I am woefully aware, such things have ruined the routine–before it even became a routine. So, after further processing and reflecting on Amy’s tweet, I decided to make it simple.

First, I wanted to set a different tone. “Conference” sounds so formal. So, I changed the name to “Sittin’ with Sy.” Names matter, and I wanted one that would set an easy tone with my kiddos.

Next, I considered what I wanted the content of the conversation to include. Already, a staunch believer of the people in the room being the most important thing in the room (Smiles and Frowns), I wanted to start with the person in the conference. “How are you?” It’s not that I didn’t already “check in” with my kids, but I wanted it to be clear to all that this is where it all begins. From there, it really comes down to two things: work and help. “What are you working on?” “How can I help.” Simple.

Finally, I had to protect time. So, I used a timer–have done this in the past, but I am renewing my “get-to-everyone” vow, so I have to use the timer. Three minutes seems to be just about right–give or take.

Yesterday, I sat with a fourth of my kids. I asked them how they were doing, what they were working on, and how I could help. I will sit with another fourth today, and I will once again keep it simple. Just me and the kids talking. Simple.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns

…drafting our “This is me” introductions

…sittin’ with Sy

…reflecting in our Journey Journals

…discussing Why with Sy

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Hit a milestone today. Since I began Project 180 a little over three years ago, I have written 700 posts. As I think about that number, it’s hard to imagine that I have found that many things to write about, especially at 4:30 AM. And though there are certainly days when it is hard to find material and /or inspiration, I keep plugging along, one post at a time. Of course, at times, I wonder how much longer I will continue–if I want to continue, but I always find myself back here at the keyboard each morning, sharing my journey. And for now, I can’t imagine quitting my routine reflection each day. It has helped me grow as a teacher, and I want to believe, at least on a minor scale, it has helped others along their own ways, too. So for now, I am going to continue the journey. Thank you for being here. Some of you have been here since post #1. I appreciate everyone’s kind, consistent support. Could not have done it without you. Thank you.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…writing introductions for our This Is Me project.

…conferencing with Sy.

…finishing yesterday’s Audience Awareness Performance.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…discussing Why with Sy

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.