Was up at 2:15 this morning to get my lovely wife to the airport. She’s already in the air. Coffee’s not providing much lift, so this plane is still on the ground. Gonna be a short post this morning, folks.

After my “monster morning” start yesterday, the kids quickly chased away my demons as we settled into a great day of learning. We were seeking to answer two questions with our work.

How can I get and keep my audience’s attention?

How can I use ethos, logos, and pathos to engage my audience?

Our first stop was to watch the speech below from Lewis and Clark High School student Ava Sharifi. She shared her voice with the staff and students during their MLK assembly back in 2016. We analyzed how she got and kept her audience’s attention as well as her use of ethos, logos, and pathos. The kids did a great job of digging into her message and delivery. My hope is that they carry what they learned from Ava into their work for sharing their own voices.

 

Today, they will begin that work as they seek to find ways to make a first impression and get–and keep–attention with their own words. In an effort to walk the walk, I am working along side them on my own “speech.” I have asked them to write five beginnings (hooks) to their speeches. Tomorrow they will share three of them with the class, so they can get some feedback and some practice with sharing their voices. Can’t wait to listen.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…seek our voices.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all. Sorry for the lame post. Gonna be a long day.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Maybe it’s that we are down to fifty-five days. Maybe it’s that standardized-testing season is right around the corner. Maybe it’s that we are starting a new project. Maybe it’s that I completely flubbed the lesson fourth period yesterday. Maybe it’s that I am putting too much pressure on myself by applying to the Humanities Washington Speakers Bureau. Maybe it’s that the “innovate weight” presses constantly. Maybe it’s that I am two chapters from finishing the haunting, beautiful book A Monster Calls. Maybe it’s that I have created this superhero persona when I am just a human who wears Superman shirts to hide his fear. Maybe. Maybe more. Probably more.

But, maybe it is the book. Maybe my own monsters call. Or maybe, more aptly, I am calling them. Conor O’Malley called the Monster.

You are the one who called me, Conor O’Malley, it said, looking at him seriously. You are the one with answers to these questions.

 

And while my own struggles are in no way comparable to Conor’s, (I am not ready for that truth), the book has seeped into my spirit, and I have called my own monsters forth, my own self forth.

Have I done enough with the time?

Have I done the right things with the time?

Are my kids learning?

Should I prep the kids for the SBA?

Will I sellout if I do?

What if my kids don’t pass?

What if my kids do pass?

Are my kids learning?

Is this new project too ambitious?

Am I kidding myself that kids can find their voices?

How do I give them freedom and direction?

Are my kids learning?

Am I expecting too much from my “regular” kids fourth period?

Am I supporting my regular kids fourth period?

How can I fix yesterday’s flub during fourth period?

Are my kids learning?

Should I be applying to Humanities WA Speakers Bureau?

Is it a vanity project?

Do I have anything to say?

Are my kids learning?

Am I an innovator?

Am I an “eduquack.”

Do I even know what better is?

Are my kids learning?

Am I ready for my Mom’s death?

How will I face that Monster?

Are my kids learning?

Why haven’t I been wearing Superman shirts lately.

Am I a fraud?

What am I afraid of?

Are my kids learning?

Are my kids learning. That’s my monster. He visits me every night, but unlike Conor’s, who always visited at 12:07, my monster cannot tell time. He does not care about time. He cares only for cracks, cracks to creep into, where he strangles certainty, taunts truth, and haunts hope. My cracks call. He answers. He always answers. But he never speaks. He makes me tell the tale. The tales are not easy. But I try to tell them anyway. This morning I have more cracks than I can manage. And I am afraid. But soon the sun will rise, and the cracks will close, and I will be among my kids, forgetting for a time that which haunts, and I will be made bold as I face another day and be okay–until the sun sets and I speak my stories into the dark yet again. For he will call. He always does.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

...begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…analyze a speech for ethos, pathos, and logos.

…begin answering the question, “How will I get my audience’s attention?”

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all. Thank you for letting me tell my tale this morning. It helped.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

 

 

“Sy, I got a beef with you.”

“Well, good morning, Dev. What’s up?

I was meeting with my grade-level team in another classroom when Dev found me early yesterday morning.

“Well, it’s not with you personally,” he continued, “but have you seen my grade? I mean, I know it’s not my ‘grade’ but I can’t have an F, Sy.”

“Let’s go see what’s going on, Dev.” And we walked across the hall to my room.

Funny how, despite one’s efforts to get kids to see “grades” differently, there still remains vestiges of the Freak out from their traditional experiences when they see an F on the online grading screen. Thinking I had perhaps moved us past such moments with multiple explanations and reassurances to kids and parents about what the “grade” means on the screen, I was a bit disappointed but not surprised by Devin’s response to his “grade” on Skyward. Old realities cling. New realities struggle to take hold.

“Sy, you know I gotta have my bike. If I have an F, then I can’t ride my bike. And that’s not an option. I gotta ride my bike,” Dev persisted on the way to my classroom.

He’s right, I do know. He tells me and the rest of the class every day during Smiles and Frowns. Not a day goes by that he’s not sharing something about maintaining his many bikes or pulling off some gnarly new tricks at the skate park. I know. I also know because I, too,  need my bike. Bikes. That was our connecting point. Dev was new to my class at semester, and he was not quiet about wanting to transfer back into my colleague Jenna Tamura’s classroom. He liked her. He was comfortable with her. But he said he’d give me a chance. And so, for a few days, Dev took me and my class for a test ride. Somewhere along the way, he learned about my love for two-wheel wonders and apparently that sealed the deal, for he stayed. And I am glad. I am glad I passed Dev’s test.

Anyway, back to my room and Dev’s beef. In a matter of minutes, we settled his grievance. He was missing two performances, which I knew, for I had just updated the online grade book the night before. One, I was able to give to him, along with a fresh stack of resources, to take home. The other, I told him he could take during class later that day. And just like that, all was right in Dev’s world again. He would not lose his bike. He was not “failing.” But he did need to follow up; he did need to “find” me, so we could set things straight. And he did. He found me.

And that’s what I am now going to start telling my kids that an “F” means: Find me. It does not mean you are failing. It means you need to find me. It means that your grade needs attention. And until we connect, we can’t do much about it. But once we do, there are many things we can do. There’s always possibility. There’s always opportunity.

But these require connecting. And while I’d like to think that I am closely connected to all my kids at all times, it is simply not the truth. There are too many of them, and there is too little of me. And that, along with my adult ADHD and my not-so-impressive organizational skills, results in our losing touch every now and then along the trail. But I stay on the trail. Yes, I sometimes, explore that curious path that “bends into the undergrowth,” but I never stray from the trail. And in that, I try to be the beacon. I try to be he who brings some comfort and supplies some aid out here in the great expanse of my and my kids’ wandering. I try.

Yesterday, Dev found me. And so did many other kids. We emailed our learning reports home to parents. So, yesterday was a good day to be found. Yesterday was a good day to peddle possibility and offer opportunity. It’s what I do. It’s why I am out here. But I can’t do it all. The kids have to help. They have to Find me. For I get lost sometimes, too.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…move down the Be A Voice path.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

 

 

Everyone arrived safely. With 128 student drivers at the wheel, we safely and successfully navigated parallel structure last week. I gave them the keys and a rough map of their destination, and they did the rest. I simply sat beside and enjoyed the view.

Here are some of my observations from the passenger seat.

Leaders emerge. This does not always happen immediately, but with me out of the way, kids had to settle into the seat, and take the wheel. It was interesting to observe the group dynamics. It was fascinating to watch kids, who I’d thought would not, take the wheel.

Kids are creative. Though the few pictures I remembered to take, will not do the necessary justice, the kids came up with some creative ways to teach parallel structure. One had to be there to truly appreciate the clever ways kids taught material that they had just learned themselves. Wish I had an easy to share the videos I took.

Kids are conditioned. Of course, not all found creative inspiration. Some, to be frank, bored the socks off us with definitions and examples. Oh, they were not bad, but they paled in comparison to some of the engaging ways others approached the task. But I blame not the kids. They are accustomed to and conditioned for such things. Makes me think of how many such lessons they have had to sit through over the years. Guess there is some truth to “we teach how we were taught.”

Teaching is learning. It is certainly not a new idea. I think Seneca gets credit for it from umpteen years ago, but there was and is truth to the notion that if you want to learn something, teach it. Still true today. So, I let the kids teach so they could learn, and though I am not through the entire stack and though we will take our future learning further, most have demonstrated learning on their performances. They are successfully identifying correct use of parallel structure as well as revising sentences with awkward, not-parallel structures. They taught it. They learned it.

Learning is messy and time-consuming. If one had observed (by the way, you’re always welcome, except you Mom) my class last week, they would have found themselves in the middle of a noisy, messy affair that lacked conventional structure. I had purposefully faded into the background, relegated to a glorified timekeeper, occasionally reminding kids how much time remained. I had to “disappear” a bit. I can’t give them the keys and the wheel and ask them to drive if it’s not real. So I let them get messy and noisy. Did I want to take control? Of course. That habit will die hard. And I will likely never fully give it up, but in these designated “Teach-Me” moments, I will let it go. I will let them go. It’s the whole point.

Of course my experiments with “Teach Me” have not resulted in perfection, but it has given me more to learn from and tweak with, as I chase better ways to help kids learn. So, I will take what I learned and try to do better. Always better.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns

…email learning reports

…begin selecting topics for Be a Voice Performances.

…reflect in Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all. For any curious about the “except Mom” comment above. My mom is always trying to get into my classrooms. Moms.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Six years ago I had an opportunity.  An opportunity that was unexpected. An opportunity to share.  An opportunity to be honest. Monte Syrie, my colleague and friend, started teaching a Classroom Management class at Eastern Washington University.  Because this is one of the first classes prospective teachers take, he thought it would be beneficial for them to hear from current teachers other than himself.  From that thought came the teacher panel. An opportunity for teachers to share their answer to the question, “What do you wish you would have known when you were in their shoes?”.  And now, having never missed one, I’m 17 teacher panels in and each quarter I struggle a tad bit to pick the one piece of advice to share. I usually share one of these, my top 3 answers.  

I wish someone had told me that relationships are important.  In one of my early education classes there was a brief mention that you needed to have a good rapport with your students, but beyond that there was no further discussion.  I quickly learned, in my early years of teaching, that if kids feel like you care, they will trust you. And if they trust you, they will do pretty much anything for you. How do I do it?  I greet each of my students, each of my classes, each day at the door. Sometimes it’s with a simple, “Hello”. Sometimes it’s, “How are you?”. And it doesn’t end there. This year I’ve started beginning the period each day with smiles and frowns, something good and/or bad that is going on in their lives.  And I share with each of my class periods as well because our relationship is not a one way street. If I’m asking them to open up and share something personal, I have to be willing to do the same. Yes, it takes time, but I believe it’s important because they are important.

I wish someone had told me that each kid deserves a fresh start.  It is true that as human beings it’s natural for us to judge people.  That said, it is unfair for a judgement to be held against a kid. Why?  Well, the reality is they are not perfect. Humans are not perfect. To me it doesn’t matter what a kid said and/or did the day, week, or semester before.  I don’t care who their brother, sister, or parent is. Every student has a fresh start every single time they walk through my door. If I’m honest, it’s not always easy.  There are kids who push your buttons almost every day making it a struggle to start new with them. Granted there are “exceptions to the rule” and “extreme behaviors”. There always is.  But I know that my students value and appreciate the fresh start that they always have with me. I have realized if I don’t give them that, then they will shut down and I won’t get much out of them academically or otherwise.

I wish someone had told me that you need an outlet.  It is easy to fall into the “school trap”.  The trap where you feel like you have to get to school early, stay late, and take mountains of work home each night.  And this trap has a serious side effect. . .you forget to take care of yourself. For me I have to take the time to workout on a regular basis.  When I don’t, when grading, meetings, etc., get in the way, I can feel the difference physically, mentally, and with my attitude. And that difference affects how I am in my classroom and how I am with my students.  They can tell when I’m not myself. The minute I get back into the workout groove I feel like myself again. Yes, I love my job. It’s not just what I do. It’s who I am. But, it’s only a small part of my life, so I have to make time for the other parts of my life.  

Even though I’ve been doing these things for a number of years, this year I’ve realized that they are vitally important in making our select-and-support grading approach successful in my classroom.  There’s no way kids would have been open to this drastic change if I wasn’t myself, if they didn’t trust me, and if they didn’t think I cared about them.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Morning, all. Slept in a bit. Promised yesterday that I would provide more details about Performance Learning, but I am going to put that off for another day or two. Will probably write about it tomorrow.

Are We There Yet?

Nope. Not yet. As with a lot of things, our Teach Me activity took more time than I thought it might, and given the kids’ effort and enthusiasm for the activity, it was not only necessary but also easy to grant them additional time. And consequently, the car never made it out of the parking lot. So, instead of teaching me parallel structure yesterday, the kids will teach me today, right before they take their performance. It actually works out for the better because a number of kids were out, presenting at the “Club Fair” for the visiting incoming freshmen. So, now, they will get some instruction, too, right before the performance. In other classrooms, being “forced” to take a test without adequate preparation may cause a lot of stress, but in my room, kids know that it is simply part of the learning process. It is a necessary D0, so they can REFLECT and then DO BETTER. Yesterday’s absentees didn’t bat an eye when I told them that we’d have a performance today. They just shrugged an okay.

So, today, I will be back in the passenger seat as the kids drive the car. I am excited to learn from them today. If yesterday’s enthusiasm is any indication of what they are going to deliver today, I am in for quite a ride. In real life, I rarely sit in the passenger seat, but when I do, I always marvel at how much more I take in. Today, I am going to soak up this experience, letting my kids take me where they may. I will share some highlights from our road trip. But for now, I am just gonna buckle up and enjoy the ride.

Here’s yesterday’s My-room Message and Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…complete our Teach Me activity.

…take our performance.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Today, I will be the student. Tomorrow the kids will demonstrate their learning. But I am not going to teach them. They are going to teach me parallel structure.

Understanding Parallel Structure

Parallel structure (also called parallelism) is the repetition of a chosen grammatical form within a sentence. By making each compared item or idea in your sentence follow the same grammatical pattern, you create a parallel construction.

Performance Targets

• I can identify and fix errors in parallel structure.
• I can use parallel structure in my own writing.

No stranger to experimentation and risk-taking, I am going to flip things upside down (the basic premise behind Project 180) today, and introduce parallel structure by having the kids teach me. Then, tomorrow, I will assess them on parallel structure in a sentence performance. Yes, that’s correct. The kids are going to teach me, and I am going to “test” them. But, remember, I don’t use the “T” word, I use performance instead.

In what I have come to call Performance Learning, I spend minimal time introducing content, so we can get to the Performances. By traditional standards, the kids are not “ready” for the test. I have just barely introduced the content. So, why would I put a test, a performance in front of them? Because I use assessment AS learning. I know and the kids know (now, anyway, it’s taken some getting used to) that performances are simply learning opportunities, chances to demonstrate where they are with the skills and content, which then serves as an opportunity for feedback, information on what they need to do differently next time to do better. The score will go in the grade book, but it is barely etched in pencil, for it is expected to change. That’s the whole premise. The kids DO. They REFLECT on their performance feedback, and they seek to DO BETTER the next time. And though a lot of thinking and tweaking remain as I chase better with Performance Learning, I am pleased with the type of learning opportunities it’s creating in my classroom. Tomorrow I will go into greater detail by sharing the basic tenets of the approach.

Today, I will learn. In five teams of six, the kids will teach me (and the rest of the class, a collateral benefit) parallel structure. Here is what I will be looking for in their lessons. I will challenge them to…

• establish basic idea of parallel structure through definition and example.
• provide a visual, analogous representation.
• provide a way to check my understanding.
• answer clarifying questions.
• provide a mnemonic to help me remember a key idea(s).
• be creative.
• be enthusiastic.
• participate.

Gonna be messy. Can’t wait.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…teach to learn parallel structure.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

 

 

 

 

“Love that.”

For the past two days I have had the privilege to partner with parents as we connected, discussing that which matters most: our kids. Okay, not our kids, technically. But when one comes to call them his kids day after day, he begins to consider them as such and care for them as much. Can’t help it. One of my many weaknesses. Kids.

In the partnering that conferences created, I had many great conversations with parents about teaching, learning, parenting, grading, “teenaging,” “humaning,” and many other “-ings.” We laughed, we wondered, one cried, we clarified, and we…connected. We connected. One such connection was with a school board member whose daughter I am blessed to have in my room each day. She is the one who voiced, “Love that,” at the top of the page. We were discussing my retake/redo policies in conjunction with the stress that our children experience, and she appreciated that I could grant some grace for kids who, as she reminded me, “carry too much.” Of course, I didn’t really need reminding. I see it, live it, and fight it every day. But I was heartened to hear a board member speak this truth. I was also pleased to share that there are things we can do to support kids, to lessen their loads. And, of course, I was happy to plant that seed with she who takes part in creating policy in our district. No, she and the board will not likely push for district-wide retakes, but she might help influence some change in that direction. Any change in that direction.

Another connection linked me to Jack’s dad. Remember, Jack? He is the one who indicated in his email home that he did not feel his performance scores were fair. Jack and I–as I vowed would happen–had already cleared things up, but I was happy to achieve even greater clarity with his parents. And what began as a disappointment, ended in a triumph because we connected. We connected. 

Some of my favorite connections were, “We just wanted to meet you and thank you.” Of course, we still sat down and discussed progress, but our initial connection was around the mutual joy shared by their child and me. Joy. Not sure there is another word for it. Feels like joy to me, and I want to believe that it feels like joy to them, too.

And though the connections are joyful and powerful, they are fleeting, for time separates, and it’s already threatening to diminish the connections we have made. And that saddens me. We only have sixty days left. Sixty days to continue our journey, to strengthen our connections. But it will end. It always does. It will end, and they will leave. Some will stay connected. Others will fade into the horizon. And what was will no longer be. It’s a hard truth we teachers learn. But after twenty-two years, I have learned it is the way of things. But I fight it anyway. It’s the windmill that I tilt at. And for the next sixty days I will arm myself by deepening my connections with kids so they won’t forget so quickly when we make our inevitable part at the end of the path, where I will take one last, pathetic pass at the windmill.

Today’s Trail

…we will begin and reconnect with Smiles and Frowns.

…introduce parallel structure.

…continue and complete our Table Talk from last week.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Even though I did not have my high school kids yesterday, I was fortunate enough to be with my college kids. As some know, beyond teaching high school English, I also am an adjunct professor at Eastern Washington University where I have taught classroom management in the education department for the past six years. Last night I wrapped up winter quarter with my college kiddos.

I begin each quarter with sharing what I hope they get out of the course, and I end each quarter with what I hope they got out of the course, asking for their feedback. It’s my way of holding myself accountable. Here are two responses.

I really love working with these young aspiring educators. I am grateful to have an opportunity to learn with and from them. They give me hope.

No kiddos again today. Conferences, the few I had, went really well. Hoping to see more parents today.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

No kids today. This year our district made four of our school days conference days. Teachers are available for conferences and kids get to stay home. So, for the next two days I will be alone in my room, waiting for parents to show up. And while I appreciate the opportunity to meet with parents, so few will show up, and as such, I would rather have my kids in class. But that is always the case. Even so, I am glad my kids get a few days off and get a chance to adjust to daylight savings. And I will get a chance to get less behind. Never ahead. Teachers are never ahead. The year just eventually ends, and we run out of time.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.