Morning, all. Slept late for me. 5:00 AM. Never really did get my brain in gear this morning, so this won’t be much of a post. Well, I guess, it won’t be a post at all. Sorry. Thought I’d share a comment card that I got from one of my kiddos yesterday. Not a terrible thing to have someone share that she feels cared for. Not a terrible thing at all. Made my day.

Sorry for dropping the ball on my post this morning. Kept guzzling coffee but my muse never found me. Tomorrow, I will do better.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

They aren’t ready. And, that’s the plan. Today, my kids will take a Sentence Performance that asks them to identify and fix fragments, run-ons, and comma splices. In addition, and in continuation of our work with sentences, they will have to write simple, compound, and complex sentences with specified phrases. They are ready for the latter–we have been doing this all year, but they are not ready for the former…well, at least not in the traditional sense.

A traditional approach relies upon sufficient front loading with teaching and practice before assessments, a test-when-it-is-time approach. As such, the assessments that correspond with this approach generally emphasize an assessment of learning, an I-taught-it-did-the-kids-learn-it way of conducting business. Such learning is then generally recorded as a grade, where it remains static, and the teacher moves on to the next unit of study, and the process is repeated in a linear, there-is-only-forward progression.

A less-traditional approach, like the traditional,  relies upon a degree of front loading, but it breaks away from the traditional in its reliance on the retest/retake. This assessment-for-learning approach emphasizes a where-are-the-kids-not-proficient and how-will-I-respond way of conducting business. Such learning as this is also recorded as a score, but it generally anticipates that kids will need more and other similar opportunities to achieve proficiency, and so the scores in the grade book are not static, for they may change as the process invites a circular, keep-at-it progression.

A non-traditional approach has revealed itself to me this year, and while it is not, to my knowledge, tried-and-tested or data-driven, it is learner-driven. I believe that learning stems from the learner. And so, I have sought ways to capture and advance that learning. My recent methodology has been a shift to “learning by performing,” which I introduced in a post about using Performances at the end of last month. Essentially, the goal here is to use assessment as learning. It relies upon minimal front loading, getting the kids to the assessment, the performance as soon as possible, so I can give them feedback in preparation for the next performance, where they will have an opportunity to apply their new learning to a similar situation. This approach requires a retest. Scores are dynamic forms of communication. Like less-traditional, it is a circular progression but it gets kids in the game sooner, and there is more back loading as it seeks to be responsive to each learner.

One of my biggest aha’s, as my ideas about learning have evolved in the gradeless realm, is that I need to teach less. That is, I need to talk less. I need to prepare kids less in the front of things and respond more on the back of things. So, yesterday, putting that new knowledge to the test, I offered kids a resource and an organizer for notes on sentence errors. I encouraged, but did not require, them to create their own resources for today’s performance. I am staunch believer in letting kid use resources–a real world consideration–on assessments. So I either provide resources (I call them Sy Sources) or I give kids the opportunity to create their own (I call them My Sources). Yesterday, the kids had a My-Source opportunity. They had very little time, for they were registering for next year with the counselor, so they approached it in various ways. Some copied the notes word for word. Some wrote the notes in their own words. Some took pictures of the book’s pages with their phones, so they could do it later. Some read the pages but did not take notes. Some did nothing. What’s best? Who knows? I want the kids to make that determination, so they can find what works best for them. And with this approach they have some freedom to do that. Today they will perform, which I am pushing as a crucial first step in learning. First step. Many steps to follow. And while the kids are taking those steps through their learning, some will stumble, some will walk, some will run, but all will learn. At least, that’s the plan.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…have a Performance opportunity.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Once upon a classroom, I would have taken points away for such an egregious error. The directions were clear. I wrote them. I spoke them. But she did not read them. And she did not listen to them. There would have been no other conclusion to make. For, if she had read and listened, she would not have been so far off target with her response. And so, I could not have let go such a mistake.

Directions matter. In some instances, they could mean the difference between life and death. If the plane lands in water, one may well need to use her seat cushion as a floating device. And in many instances, they could mean the difference between getting the job or getting into college or not. If the application calls for three letters of recommendation, then one will not succeed with only one. Real situations. Real consequences. And it is such considerations of reality that led me to punish such errors in the past. If I did not, then she would never learn to follow directions. In the real world, there is no room for such errors.

I am in a different classroom now. I no longer take points away when kids make such mistakes, and trust me they do; that has not changed, probably never will. On a recent Performance, I had two young ladies misunderstand the directions. I wrote them clearly. I believe I spoke them clearly, for one-hundred-ten other students followed them, but for some reason these two did not. Instead of summarizing a selected scene, they summarized the entire movie, which then impacted their scene analyses, and so I could not assess their work, and consequently, they will have to redo the Performance. That simple. No need for additional punishment. I am not assessing their ability to follow directions. I am assessing their ability to summarize and analyze a selected scene from a movie.

They made a mistake. It was an understandable mistake that could have been avoided by carefully following directions. They completed the Performance as did all the other kids; they just did it incorrectly. In truth, they did more than their peers, for it takes more time and thought to summarize an entire movie than just a scene. Unfortunately, their additional work was for naught, and they will have to redo, so I can assess them on the specified targets. And I think that’s a reasonable consequence for their mistakes. I do not need to attach an additional punishment for their error. I wrote both a quick note at the top of their performances pointing out their mistakes, telling them they would have to do a retake.

Yes, it will take more time for them and me. Mistakes often exact a cost of time, and in that I think there is a lesson. My time? Well, if mistakes are necessary to learning, then my time will be well spent, for the girls are learning. But what about the inconvenience? What about it? If a kid’s learning necessitates a little inconvenience, then I will endure it. My responses to kids’ mistakes should not be governed by my inconvenience. I cannot talk the talk about valuing mistakes as part of learning, and then complain about or punish the kids because their learning inconveniences me.

She made a mistake. I am glad she did. Hope it’s not her last.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…well, I am not sure. The kids are registering for next year in my class today. I think it will take all period, so we will see. I just hope we have time for Smiles and Frowns at the end. All the other stuff can wait till tomorrow.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Heavy heart this morning. Hard to process another school shooting. Harder to process how my kids are processing yesterday’s tragedy. We ended up having a snow day (happened after my post), so I have not been among them; I have not had a chance to check in with them. But I will check in. I always do. It’s the most important thing I do. We always check in with Smiles and Frowns. And while I hope my kids can find and share some Smiles today, I suspect the Frowns will weigh more heavily. We generally devote 5 minutes to this activity, but today, the kids will determine the time. If they want to talk, we’ll talk. If they want to distract themselves in our work, then we will work. It’s up to them. It’s about them. So I do for them. Whatever they need. 

Sorry for the short post this morning, all. Heart’s not in it. We are out on a four-day weekend after today, so no posts till next Tuesday. To all my teacher peeps:

Thank you for being there for your kids today. Thank you for being there for them everyday. I am so sorry that you have to carry a heavy heart today. You are in my thoughts.

Today’s Trail

Whatever they need.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

What would we find? What would we learn? If we stepped into our students’ shadows for a single day, how would that change the way we see the world? How would it change the way we teach the world? I suspect it would change it in ways beyond our current capacity of comprehension, for we would be stepping away from our narrow views of learning and learners, both on which we believe we have shed and shone sufficient light, claiming to know the right and the way, but what if that light is merely exposing that which we have sought, that which we have named? What if the “right and the way” lies beyond the light? What if it exists not in the lights we shine, but in the shadows they cast? And what if we stepped into the shadows? What would we find? What would we learn?

I don’t know, but the idea of the discovery is fascinating to me. Yesterday, I came across the article Shadowing a Student: Reinventing the School Experience in the Twitterverse, and it caught my attention, and it hasn’t let go. The article is a quick and worthwhile read. Apparently there is a global “Shadow a Student Challenge” right around the corner (see below). I am going to try to find a way to make this happen for myself, even if I have to take a personal day. But bigger, I want to find a way to make it happen on a grander scale. I think it should be something that all educators (teachers, principals, superintendents) do. More, I think it should be something we are required to do once a year.

The global Shadow a Student Challenge (designed by School Retool, IDEO, and Stanford’s d.school) can be particularly helpful and enlightening as it provides methods (including a free toolkit) and a network. The Shadow a Student Challenge is a journey that starts with seeing school through a student’s eyes, identifying opportunities to improve the school experience for students, and then taking action to create change. The Shadow a Student website provides resources that help to ensure that the shadowing experience will be meaningful, including email templates and permission slips. There are tips for creating learning goals for the shadow day, choosing a student, and coordinating with the student, parents, and staff.

The challenge is open to all school leaders – at any school, anywhere in the world. In 2016, 1765 education leaders signed up from 15 countries. In 2017, 2098 education leaders signed up from 67 countries. At my school, we have modified the challenge by asking classroom teachers to shadow a student for two lessons, including contact before school and during recess and lunch, and then coming together to reflect, debrief and plan next steps.

There is an open invitation to join the 2018 challenge, which will run from February 19th to March 2nd. Spread the word to your networks, and remember to share about your experience on Twitter and Instagram with #shadowastudent!

In my district, we are working on a number of initiatives to improve our kids’ learning experiences, and in that work we are shedding light, but that, too, means we are creating shadows. What if we found not only the courage but the means to step into those shadows? In education, we talk a lot about the necessity of keeping students at the center of our decision making, and while I think we make concerted efforts in that regard, I think that our efforts fall short because we never really put them at the center. This it seems is a way to truly make that happen. I am going to email this post to all the administrators in my district. I am going to challenge them to consider the possibilities that this opportunity could have on our work. Unconventional? Yes. Many logistics? Too many. Possibility of a profound impact on the lives of our kids? Beyond measure. Difficult? Absolutely. But that’s why we should do it. We can stay in the light where we find comfort and familiarity, or we can step into the shadows where we may find what truly matters. Never know if we never try. Let’s, together, find what’s hiding in their shadows.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…Finish Life is Beautiful and share what we found through our lenses.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

There’s a stranger in my room today. She does not know me, and I do not know her. She does not know my kids, and they do not know her. She is there. Has to be. Gotta have someone in the room in my absence. So, she is there. But she is not a part. Nothing against her. She seems a nice lady. But she is a stranger in our world, and to her, I imagine, our world will seem strange, too. If she did not have to be there, I would ask her not to be there. The kids do not need her. Half the time, I don’t think they need me. And though it is against the rules, I believe, I trust that my kids would do just fine without a sub today. I believe, I trust that learning would happen, that chaos would not ensue. I believe, I trust that they could more readily steer the ship without her. I believe. I trust.

Recently, Aussie teacher extraordinaire and friend Down Under Abe Moore shared a post about the necessity of trust in the classroom, emphasizing the power that comes from our trusting the kids (Trust).

“Trust is a powerful but underutilized tool in schools. In my experience, showing genuine trust in students is almost always rewarded. Maybe not immediately, but wait long enough, trust long enough, it will happen. I used to tell students to “trust me”, that I knew what was best for them and their learning. But I had it backwards, I needed to trust them, I needed to let go of the controls and let them fly for a while. I am a helicopter teacher no longer.”

As Abe sagely suggests, I am letting my kids fly today. They are not alone; there is an adult in the room–to keep them tethered, lest they fly too close to the sun, but I trust, I believe that the tether is unnecessary. They are able flyers. And they will live into the trust that I have placed in them. And the sun cannot melt that which shines brighter.

Of course, to trust, we have to let go. So, yesterday, as I was sharing that I would be absent today, I floated the question about having Smiles and Frowns in my absence. One might have thought that I suggested they not breathe while I was gone.

“Not an option, Sy. We have to have Smiles and Frowns.”

“What? How could we start without Smiles and Frowns.”

“No. We ARE having Smiles and Frowns tomorrow. Period.”

“Okay,” I replied. “But somebody will have to…”

“Sy, we got this.”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose you do,” I smiled. And I left it at that. In my sub notes I simply put that the kids would lead the first five minutes with Smiles and Frowns. I trust, I believe they will. They “got this.”

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…proudly begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…continue “reading” the movie Life is Beautiful (Italian with English subtitles)

…sadly, not end with a Sappy Sy Ryhme (unless, the kids “got that” too)

Happy Tuesday, all. Wonder what my sub will think today?

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Cannot believe we moved into triple digits today. 100 days. In August, 180 seemed so many. But now, in February, it seems so little. Time is indeed illusory, a tease, a mirage, a ghost. And in such times as this, it confounds, for one worries about his use of the fleeting moment he has been given with this year’s charges. Has he done enough, covered enough? And he is beset by haunts from his past lives and classrooms where such a thing as “coverage of content” sang its siren song, luring him away from his course, teasing and taunting, exploiting and empowering the doubt atop his left shoulder. Time was he would succumb to such sound, such noise, giving into doubt, forsaking conviction. But that time has passed. Oh, the noise still threatens, but he has secured himself to the mast of his mission, facing the noise from without with his voice from within, and he is resolute in his quest to follow his horizon, secure in his knowledge that he is singing a better song; the song of his students. They are the star he follows in the vastness of of his sea to find a better place for those with whom he has set sail. That is his song. That is my song. And as each day passes, I try out different tunes, looking for harmony in a sea cast with doubt and discord out here in the expanse of the unexplored.

Today, my tune finds company in my gradeless, grade-ten peeps. Today, we offer a chorus to our students as we seek to help them sing their own songs about their learning. Below is a draft of a message template that kids will send home as part of their learning stories each week to their parents via email. A bit of tweaking and revising will occur as we seek harmony, but this is the gist of what our message will be.

All year, 100 days so far, I have asked kids to learn a new tune. It is not an easy tune, for it is unfamiliar, but with each passing day their voices become more resonant. Yes, I worry from time to time as the days pass if I should not bring back some of the familiar tunes of the past, but then I see and hear my kids’ earnest attempts to sing, no longer caged birds, free and unfettered, and I am mesmerized, held captive by the promise of their voices, their beautiful voices. And I see my horizon.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…view Life is Beautiful, seeking more truths about the human experience.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Today is our first “Do” of the new semester. The kids will do their first performance today. For two weeks now, we have been warming up to and practicing our new “Chasing-Better Chant.” We have been talking the Do-Reflect-Do Better game (the kids and I say this every day), but today we will walk the game. Today, we will do, so we can reflect and then do better.

As I recently explained in two posts about our changes this semester (Business, Pt. 1 and Business, Pt. 2), we are taking a “learning-by-performing” approach this term. We learned, and we believe, that our kids’ best learning came from their performance opportunities last semester. It was the space and place where we gave them feedback; it is the space and place where they grew, so we are providing a steady diet this semester. Our goal is to put a performance on the table each week, an assessment (we call them performances) that asks them to take aim at one or more of our focus standards. From that aim and subsequent “shot,” we judge our kids’ performances: 3=hit the target, 2=near miss, 1=far miss. For our 2’s and 1’s we then give the necessary feedback for them to take better aim next time. I know some look at this metaphor with disfavor for its violent undertones, but our goal here is not to create such a “graphic” space; it is simply an approach that makes sense to us and our kids. Sorry if it offends.

So, today, I will put the first performance in front of my kids. We talked about it yesterday. In fact, I handed it to them. You let the kids see the assessment before they took it? Of course, I did. Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t I want them to know what they are being asked to do? There needs to be no mystery in it. There needs to be no secret for them to uncover, no “gotcha” to get them. That is not how I conduct business. It is not how I develop trust among my kids. I want them to feel supported, so I can challenge them. If I am telling kids that their learning will be judged solely on their performances, then I have to create an experience where they not only trust me  but also themselves to make  and learn from mistakes. And I believe that begins with my being transparent. So, I am.

Of course, it also requires an approach that allows them to re-engage the learning experience. So, we create similar experiences around the same standard(s), enabling kids to apply what they have learned from their missteps. But we also, allow multiple retakes, as many as requested by the kid. If a kid wants to prove his learning, we will not stand in the way. If there is a will, there is way in our classrooms. Always a way.

After the kids do today. I will score their performances and give them feedback. They will then reflect and have an opportunity to do better. That’s our growth mindset.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns (even on performance days).

…perform. 

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Somewhere there’s a line. It divides. It defines. It draws. It repels. It compels. It impedes. It is there. But I cannot find the line.

Somewhere there’s a line. “Sy, I have a drive today, so I am not gonna be in class,” reported Kat yesterday before school, letting me know that she would be missing class due to her scheduled drive for Driver’s Ed. I chided in response, “Taking advantage of my flexibility, eh?” “No, no…I just. I can’t miss any of my other classes,” she stammered. Can’t. Seems like a line. Maybe I need that line.

I teach sophomores, sixteens, which means, driver’s license. Gone are the old days when kids took Driver’s Ed as a class in school, paying fifty bucks, driving before and after. Now they take the class after school, paying nearly five-hundred dollars, driving during school. It’s a pain. It’s a struggle. It’s a reality. Oh, I can refuse to let kids drive. They have to get my “permission” to miss class. And if I do not excuse it, and they do it anyway, then I can choose the consequences for their absence. Just so happens– guess–that my consequences pale in comparison to my colleagues, so kids miss my class. “Sorry, Sy. Do you want me to schedule my upcoming drives during another class?” “No. I just want you to do what’s best for you. Of course, I want you here. But I don’t want you stressin’ either. Do what you gotta do, kiddo.” Do what’s best for you. If there’s a “can’t,” there must be a line. But I cannot find the line.

Somewhere there’s a line. “Sy, I missed my math test yesterday. And I have to take it today. Any chance…” Have to. Seems like a line. Maybe I need that line.

Annika was out sick the day before. She is a rock-star student whose status brings a great deal of self-induced stress. So, when she came to me yesterday, I knew she was stressing, and before she even finished her request I said, “Yes.” She would no doubt make up what she missed in my class; she was facing a “have-to” in another class, so I granted her request. Apparently, *math tests can only be taken in one sitting. One cannot start during lunch and finish after school. Apparently, one cannot take the test during her math class because she will miss that day’s section and fall farther behind. Apparently, math tests must be completed by all kids as quickly as possible because knowledge of the problems is out there. If there’s a “have-to,” there must be a line. But I cannot find the line.

Somewhere there’s a line. “Sy, can I go to the bathroom?” “Sy, can I eat in here?” “Sy, can I drink in here.” “Sy, can I call my mom?” Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes. People have to pee. People have to eat. People have to drink. And people even have to call mom. Apparently, for some, the answers are no, no, no, and no. No. Seems like a line. Maybe I need that line.

But when I look out on my class, I see people. People. As a person, I understand people’s needs. I go to the bathroom during class (I have a fellow teacher cover). I eat during class. I drink during class. Sometimes, I even call my mom during class. If I can say yes, why would I say no? But if there’s a “no,” there must be a line. But I cannot find that line.

Somewhere there’s a line. “To get credit for this course, you have to complete all performances with an honest effort.” This is what I share with kids when explaining my grading approach. It is not a high hurdle, and for the vast majority of my kids, earning credit for the course is not difficult. But in every situation, despite the line, even the ones we set and can see, there are exceptions. A self-set have-to. I have that line. Maybe I need to follow that line.

Remember Jack? A month ago today I shared a letter I wrote to him, seeking to understand him and compel him to cross the line, the “have-to” I impose in my classroom (Dear Jack). In the letter I mention a line, “…it’s not too late for us to get across that line.”  At the time, I had not this particular post in mind about lines, but now a month later it haunts. We did not cross that line. Jack did not “complete all performances with an honest effort.” But he did write me back, and I had intended to share his response with you, but it was deeply personal, so I chose to keep it between Jack and me. So, then, what happened? Well, apparently I cannot even find my own lines, for I passed Jack. He got credit for the course. His letter affected my gut. And when one lacks lines, he finds his gut, he trusts his gut. On this one, I went with my gut. Jack did not cross the line. But perhaps I did. I gave credit where credit wasn’t earned, and though such a transgression may well land me in teacher hell, it’s too late now. There was a “have-to,” so there must have been a line. But, even then, I could not find the line.

Somewhere there’s a line. It divides. It defines. It draws. It repels. It compels. It impedes. It is there. But I cannot find the line.

For I am more lost than found. And as I move ever-deeper into creating a student-centered world, my identity fades in and out. And the lines that once existed blur as I seek to find myself through my kids. And that, I think, has become my new have-to, my new line. I become re-imagined, re-cast with each attempt to discover my next “better.” And that lies down a different path, that follows a new line.

Somewhere there is a line. But it is not here among tradition or convention. It is out there. And I will not find it. Never. But I will seek it. Ever. And maybe that’s the best line of all.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns. 

…Finish up our Book Thief analysis and prepare for tomorrow’s performance.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme

Happy Thursday, all. Sorry for the odd post this morning. Trying to find myself a bit. *No offense intended to my math peeps with the example up above. I know there are a great many of you who do more than cover and test content. I hope no one took it the wrong way.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.  

We did it. We made it through the first semester of our new grading approach. One thing that I am guilty of is always waiting for a new start, just like the kids. So, even though I enjoyed the semester, I really couldn’t wait for it to end. When I started off the semester I was so hesitant on how this new way of grading was going to be for our students, toward the middle I started feeling more confident, and now that the first semester is done I know that this was the best decision I could’ve made this school year. I was ready for first semester to end only because I believe change helps us to continue to grow.

Our end of semester grading conferences were set up in a way that seemed pretty simple and to the point, but I almost immediately found out that the results were anything but simple. Each conference forced kids to take the lead and talk about what they have done in class and show how they have grown. Each and every conference was different. Each and every conversation was so important for the kids to speak and important for me to listen to.

By the end of the first day of conferences I came to the realization that I am part of something much bigger than I expected. I knew what we had begun last spring was going to be different than what I had previously done grading wise, but seeing how kids were truly able to articulate where they were at with the standards we put in front of them and how their evidence from their portfolios showed that had floored me. I felt like it was too good to be true, but the next conference day came and kids were continuing to show me that they are able to talk about their own learning in a way I never expected.

In addition to their being able to do this, we also gave them an opportunity to tell us about any suggestions that they had for our grading policy in the end that we could take into consideration. In about ninety percent of my conferences the kids ended with telling me how they were so unsure about it in the beginning, but they are now understanding so to leave it the way it is. The other ten percent of kids who had suggestions brought up very thought out recommendations that in truth we had already started considering for the next semester which just validated more that continuing to reflect and change is a good thing and having the kids help us do so is even better.

So, as one semester has ended and a new semester has begun I’m feeling energized about the changes we have made and the work we are continuing. So energized that I have decided to take on a challenge myself in taking this grading approach with all of my classes next year, not just the sophomore class. We have made changes going into second semester just as I imagine we will continue to do from week to week, semester to semester, and year to year.

Grading this way has changed how I look at every lesson, every performance, every set of notes that I put in front of my students. The work to make change is sometimes time-consuming, hard, and out of our comfort zone, but as only a third year teacher, I feel as though the change I have made this year has been for kids and makes their learning the center of my classroom. I’m so excited to continue my work with helping kids have a voice and see possibilities in their learning. Change is good.