Night falls. Time for our annual march through humanity’s darkest chapter. But this year, I am going to try something new. I will still do “The Pledge” as I have done in the past, using it as an opportunity for commitment rather than compliance–kids will read it or they won’t, but this year, I am going to challenge them to get it done in three days. Of course, if they don’t, there will be more time, but I am going to push them to rise to the challenge. We’ll see how it goes.

In addition to giving them the book today,  I will also hand them an excerpt from Elie’s Nobel acceptance speech, which I will ask them to read and annotate for a Performance on Friday. I will also ask them to give it a title. Elie titled it “Hope, Despair, and Memory.”

From there, we will go on to do a number of activities that honor Elie’s work, that honor Memory.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…say our Mindset Mantra.

…kick off our Honor the Holocaust Challenge (3 days to read).

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

And sometimes life pulls us away from the classroom. Yep, there is life, and there are responsibilities beyond school. Today, I am beyond school.Life calls. Meet ya back here Monday. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

“It’s the only time in my day that I don’t hate people.”

My wife–the best teacher I know–and I share kids. Well, not at the same time. She teaches art at one of our middle schools, and many of the kids who are in her class eventually end up in my class once they get to high school.

Two days ago, she ran into one of our shared students.

“Hey, Mrs. Syrie! I have your husband this year. I love his class. We are like a family. It’s the only time in my day that I don’t hate people.”

The only time in my day that I don’t hate people.

Hard to walk past that one. First, I cannot believe that the jovial, effervescent young lady with a smile as big as the room said this. I’ve never really seen her not smile. So to hear that she said this, that she felt this worries me. Second, how many other kids feel this way? Third, why do they feel this way? And fourth, is there anything we can do about it?

Last, why my room?  I think I know. And it’s neither an accident nor magic.

“In my room I want you to feel connected.”

This is my first of six standards that I set for myself in my room. I want kids to feel connected to me, and I want them to feel connected to each other. And so, I make that happen. And it ain’t no secret sauce. It’s simply Smiles and Frowns. I have written about this practice and its effect a number of times. It alone, I believe, has the power to connect people and to create community. Yes, it takes time. And no it’s neither in the curriculum nor on the test at the end of the year, but it is in the fiber, the fabric of our humanity. It is easy to hate what we don’t know. It is easy to hate what we don’t understand. But conversely, it is easy to love once we know. It is easy to love once we understand. So, let’s know. Let’s understand.

In my room, this is priority number one. We connect each day with Smiles and Frowns. No matter what. Everything else can wait. Nothing is more important than the people in the room, so we start with the people in the room.

To be clear, I am not suggesting that everyone in the room “loves” each other. But 24 days into the year, I have a young lady who already describes our class as a family. Family. I cannot speak to her experiences in her other classes, but if I had to put my finger on the difference, I would point to connection. I would guess that in her other classes she does not feel connected.

Does that matter? Maybe not. Maybe it is simply about completing transactions with kids as we make our way through the day. But if kids are going through their days hating their experiences and their peers, I’m not sure that’s okay. Surely that matters.

Nothing we can do about it? Horse hockey. We can do a lot about it. And it only costs about five minutes a day. And if the result is a kid feeling like she’s among family, then I have lots of time to spend.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…say our Mindset Mantra.

…complete our self-assessments and publish our poems.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

“Am I learning?”

You tell me.

I am going to ask my kids to self-assess today. I am going to ask them to annotate their work, indicating where and how they met the provided criteria. I am going to ask them to evaluate their work, using our 3 point scale to provide a big picture judgment of their learning.

Their latest learning experience is a Performance that has asked them to consider “truths” from the human experience as revealed by a documentary we watched last week about the Holocaust (see below).

In my room, I want kids to feel empowered. And I believe part of that empowerment comes from giving them more responsibility and ownership of their learning. Are they more qualified than I to assess learning? I don’t know. From a professional standpoint, probably not. But from a personal standpoint, maybe. It’s their learning. Perfect solution to the challenges of grading? No. But, maybe by meeting somewhere in the messy middle, we’ll get closer to the truth.

So, I will pose the question: Are you learning?

I will give them a platform.

And then, I will listen.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…say our Mindset Mantra.

…speak about our learning (self-assessment).

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

How much is too much? Seconds? Thirds? What about thirteenths?

(Mostly) finished up our first round of performance retakes and corrections yesterday. Generally, these occur outside of class on kids’ own time, but for this first performance, I provided class time because–as planned–there were many who had to retake it. I knew they would. I put it in front of them with minimal preparation, for I have come to believe that kids learn from performance situations, for it is from there–a feedback opportunity–that learning takes place, and I believe that we have to create the need for feed.

So, with performances in hand, kids came to the table to eat. Some nibbled. Some gorged. For all, the goal was to feed their need.

As I have shared, my scoring is simple. A “3” indicates hitting the target [meeting the standard(s)]. A “2” is a near miss. And a “1” is a far miss. A “2” presents kids with a correction opportunity, small adjustments based on my feedback. A “1” presents a retake opportunity, which in most cases means completely starting over, requiring both feedback and interventions (reteach, further, examples, review of criteria, clarification of expectations, etc.). And from there the feast begins, the goal to get all kids to a 3.

And for some kids, that requires multiple trips back through the chow line. Thirteen trips? Well, not sure anyone quite made that many trips, but several got close. In truth, I don’t care how many trips they make as long as they are hungry for more. I have plenty to spare, and I can’t abide the thought of a hungry kid (see Project Feed Forward).

But such opportunities to eat one’s fill raises questions. Is it fair? Am I giving them too much help? Are they really learning? Can they do it without feedback? Do all kids deserve a 3? I don’t know. But I have some thoughts from the table I set.

Is it fair?

To whom? The kid? Or the kid sitting next to him?

The kid. If learning is the goal and to get to the goal he has to have the necessary “fuel” to get to the end, and I have the fuel, then how could it ever not be fair? The journey is a bit different for each kid, regardless my approach. I can’t ration fuel based on an average need. I have to fuel each according to his end. So am I giving some kids more fuel than others? Yes.

The kid sitting next to him. Who? Oh, you mean the kid with his own needs, his own learning? His own learning. Next question.

Am I giving them too much help?

Sorry, what’s the question? Flippant self aside, how do we explain to a kid that we have no more to give if they need more to get there? If there’s a need, then we have to feed. Right?

Are they really learning?

That’s the question isn’t it? Not sure anyone in ed has cornered the answer.

Can they do it without feedback?

Is it learning if they do? What if they do it for feedback? Don’t we do for feedback? Isn’t that a real world thing?

Do all kids deserve a 3?

No. But they certainly deserve an opportunity. The 3 is not a treasure to be guarded and granted to a deserving few. It is a measure to be pursued and attained by any who seek it, and if she needs a little more to get there, then…well, that puts us back to the original question.

I have kids. Kids have needs. I have feed. My kids will eat–as much as they want.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…say Mindset Mantra.

…take our next Performance.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

Never quite sure. Never fully prepared. Never exactly surprised. Why he shows up when he does, I may never know. But I’ve begun to leave a light on for him, just in case.

Doubt showed up at my door this weekend, waltzed right in like he owned the place and made himself comfortable.

And why wouldn’t he? We go way back. Knew him then. Know him know. And I will know him later. Know him so well, in fact, that I don’t even really fight him anymore. I just figure he’s here to teach me something.

Funny though, I am off to a solid start, and things are going as I’d like them to, but still he lingers, perched. And there he stayed, perched on my shoulder all weekend as I hurried against the coming of winter, trying to get a second coat on the house. Why did I decide to paint the house in late August? Anyway, I painted. He sat, not taunting exactly–more teasing, floating fears of failure. And we made our way through the weekend.

For the most part, I ignored him, able to get lost in the rhythm of the roller in my hand, but I also remembered. I remembered the brand of doubt that he dealt when I was more traditional in my approach. And as I remembered, I found myself momentarily drawn to those days, and not because of the approach, but because of the comfort. There were others with whom I could hide. But here, where I am, I cannot hide. I am exposed. I have to be. Heck, maybe I seek to be. Regardless, I am revealed. I have called attention to myself, and now I have to muster the resolve to stay on the path. And I have it. I do. But I am alone. Not entirely (thank you to the few who believe in and support me). But I am largely alone. And that’s hard.

Thanks, Doubt. I knew that. You didn’t have to rub it in.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…say our Mindset Mantra.

…enjoy our Personal Reading day.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

“Best two words, ever, Sy. ‘Let’s talk.'”

Smile on his face, earnestness in his eyes as Mark (name changed) responded to my comment and his score of “1,” an indication of a “far miss” on a performance in my classroom.

I like two things about this. One, he was not deflated by the judgment. Two, he sees the value in our having a conversation about his learning.

Though I am trying to get better at writing fewer comments for the sake of efficiency, I still find myself not only wanting to explain my position on my kids’ performances but also wanting to set their minds at ease. Of course, this time of year, in these early, pivotal moments, I find myself working overtime to undo what’s largely been done to them over last decade (and still continues) in their school experience: the stressful reality of “assessment of learning,” which is generally a one-stop, one-shot judgment in a race through the content onto a “permanent mark” on their record. As such, a large part of that undo is framing the purpose of assessment differently, with a word swap: of for as. I want my kiddos to regard our performances, our assessments as learning. Assessment as learning. It’s not just what happened on the assessment, but importantly it’s what happens after the assessment: the feedback, the discussion, the intervention, and the opportunity to redo. And of all, I believe it’s in that discussion where the learning happens. And so, I seek to create opportunities for that to happen. Sometimes, when the learning is big, I simply respond with a “let’s talk.” It, I think is the most respectful, powerful thing I can do for my kids. For my kids. I serve them.

Yesterday, I served Tom (name changed) as he worked his way through a messy redo. But with each talk and back-to-the-drawing-board opportunity, we got closer. Closer to the target. But also closer to the truth: learning is not a product; learning is a process. As well, we got closer to each other. Kids are reluctant to trust my approach. And why wouldn’t they be reluctant? It’s not what they’ve been conditioned to expect in their transactions with other teachers. But I seek not transaction here; I seek connection. And I believe with each conversation we build a connection, and when we are connected, we can trust. Kids will do great things when they trust. Sadly, in building that trust, for many, I am not starting at zero; I am starting from a trust deficit, which has accumulated over the years. Still, I have hope, so that my kids may have hope. So I work to build each day.

Yesterday, I shared my unease at this juncture of trust building. I know some of the kids were disappointed with their results, and I implored them not to get discouraged, that we would get through this together.

As Rosa (name changed) left yesterday, she paused, “Sy, I don’t think we should be sad. It’s just a chance to get better.”

Yes, Rosa. Thank you for the music, kiddo.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…say our Mindset Mantra.

…have an opportunity to redo our latest performance.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

What are you learning?

Seems a fair question. Seems maybe the only question.

But what’s the answer?  Is it as simple as a teacher-generated learning target that is posted in the front of the room? If a student is able to recite the target, is that evidence that she is learning in that room? If a student can hold up a number on her fingers at the end of the lesson, indicating where she is situated in the learning target, is that evidence that she is learning in that room? Or…

Or is it more complicated than the ritual routine that plays out in so many classrooms, where outsiders drop in and attempt to put a finger on what is and what is not learning?

But what is learning? Is it the score on the end-of-the-unit test? Is it the standardized-test score at the end of the year? Is it the percentage in the grade book? Maybe it’s grander. Maybe it’s an arrival,  a moment of clarity, an epiphany that screams, “I have learned.”

I think of my own learning as a teacher. And I try to put in targets.

I can meet the needs of all the students in my classroom.

I can motivate all the students in my classroom.

I can get all the students to grade-level achievement in my classroom ( with all 86 standards).

Or

By the end of (insert time marker), the Teacher Will Be Able To (TWBAT)…

…meet the needs of all the students in my classroom.

…motivate all the students in my classroom.

…get all the students to grade-level achievement in my classroom ( with all 86 standards).

First, I neither “can,” nor will I “be able to,” regardless the time marker: lesson, unit, day, year, decade, career.

Second, it seems absurd, artificial, contrived…well, silly.

Third, I am reminded every lesson, every unit, every day, every year, every decade, and–I imagine–in my one career that there will be no arrival. I will never stand atop the mount and declare, “I have arrived. I have learned.”

No, I won’t. But I will declare after every lesson, every unit, every day, every year, and I imagine at the end of my career, “I am learning.” I entered my career learning. I live my career learning. I will leave my career learning. I am learning. I am experiencing.

Experiencing.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe the question is “What are you experiencing?” Semantics? Maybe. But there may be more to it, too.

Ever wonder why we have to “reteach” things? Things that kids “learned” the year before. Things they learned earlier in the same year? Maybe they didn’t learn it as an end. Maybe they learned it as a step. Maybe all we’re doing is adding to kids’ experiences as they make their ways through our classrooms. They enter our rooms somewhere along their learning; they dwell with us in their learning; and they leave us in their learning. Their learning. 

In the end, I don’t know. My learning suggests that there is no simple answer to “what are you learning?” And I certainly have not found that it resides in the rote routine of a target. That is not to say that targets are bad, but it is to say that they are not enough. In my room they are not enough to drive me or my students deeper into the realm of our experience, making sense of ourselves, making sense of our worlds.

And so, one will not find a learning target in my room. But if one looks, if one stays, they may find learning in the daily experiences that I create for my kids as we make our ways to our own mounts on the horizon where we will some day declare, “I am learning.”

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…say our Mindset Mantra.

…finish our viewing of the Holocaust documentary.

…discuss discovered themes and share six-word sentiments.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all.

Gotta find my wind. Some days this old clock runs a bit slow, and today…well, I may need an extra turn or two to stay in motion.

This has been my first week back to teaching at the university: Monday and Tuesday nights from 5:00 – 8:00. I find it as exhilarating as teaching my high school kids, but exhilaration eventually leads to exhaustion, and that’s where I am this morning. But only for a moment or two as I wind up for my day with my kiddos. So glad I have them to keep me wound, like 142 portable chargers.

Okay, starting to mix metaphors so it’s time to get to the point. No post today. Sorry. Back at full steam tomorrow (oops, another one). Ya know, when I get find my sea legs (I’ll stop).

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will,

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…say our Mindset Mantra.

…engage in a Table Talk activity in which the kids discover and discuss significant world events that shaped the human experience between 1930 and 1950.

…view a documentary about the Holocaust.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

This is only a test. This is only a test. This is only a test.

There is no emergency. There is no cause for alarm.

Wish it were that simple. But, despite the fact that I don’t even call them tests, despite the fact that I try–and try again–to put their minds at ease. Tests equal stress.

We took our first performance yesterday, and while I am only a class and a half into scoring them, I have learned–to no surprise–that we have work to do. Identifying, stating, and supporting themes is no easy task. It takes practice; it takes support; it takes time. I know this. But my kids haven’t really internalized this notion, for they have come to believe–for that’s how they’ve been conditioned–that the test tells all. It knows all. It means all. But it doesn’t. Not really. It’s simply a snapshot, a peek into where kids are in the moment. At least in my class. But I suppose I put the least in least, for in most of their classes, it does tell, know, and mean all. Seems, then, I am fighting a losing battle. Hard to instill in kids a different view when they’ve only had one window to look through over the entirety of their experience. Still, it’s a fight I am willing to shoulder, as I seek to change my kiddos’ mindsets about the role that assessment plays in their learning.

But that is not going to happen over night. It’ll take time, and it’ll take some urging to get them to think about their experiences differently. So, I try–big and small–to turn their heads to other windows.

Here are a few “windows” that I presented yesterday before the performance.

And, at the end, I tried again before I asked them to reflect on the experience in their Journey Journals.

Performances in hand.

“This is just a pile of papers. They will go away. They are not you. You can view them as a grade, or you can view them as an opportunity to learn and grow. I wish the latter on you. That is what I want for you. That is what I want from you. It’s just a test, folks. Just a test.”

And then we ended our day with a Sappy Sy.

Windows, not doors. And though some kids will be disappointed, maybe even hurt–old wounds resurface–by their results, I hope eventually they come to see what I am about.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail…

…we will begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…say our Mindset Mantra.

…enjoy our Personal Reading day.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all. Glad you are here. Thank you.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.