On a whim yesterday, I came up with an idea for kids to honor each other as we continue to build our new-semester communities. I had already planned on buying some candy bars from some of my choir kids who are raising money for their trip to Disneyland at the end of April. So, I bought five candy bars, and decided to give one away each period, but I attached a string. I would give the candy bar to the one who was selected by his/her/their peers as a champion of community.

I placed the paper in the image above on the classroom floor to generate some curiosity as kids entered the room.

After Smiles and Frowns, I asked the kids to nominate one of their peers for our first Community Champ award. They wrote the name and reason on a sticky note. I collected and tallied. And, at the end of the period, I announced the champion . Below are the nominations from third period. JT was our champion. I also handed the sticky-note nominations out to the kids who had been nominated, so they could read what their peers had to say about them. We will do this every Wednesday from here on. Kids can only win the title once, so each week we will have a brand new champ.

In the end, this is nothing too sophisticated or special. It is simply an intentional effort to add some novelty to our community-building experiences here in 211. The chocolate was a nice bonus for the champs, but the sweetest deal was kids’ honoring each other.

Today’s Trail

Bit of a cluster today. Sophomores are doing registration orientation this morning, so I will have a number of kids gone each period. As well, many of my kiddos will be gone for an FBLA competition all day. We will just go with the flow.

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns

…make progress with our Book Thief analysis. 

…end with a Sappy Sy Ryhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all. Short and sweet post this morning.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Time. Time was I read this to my high school kids (and my middle school kids before that). Did for years. They loved it. I loved it. It was a shared, valued experience. And then, I stopped.

It takes time to read a book aloud. And time is precious. It seems we have all the time in the world when we first venture down the path in September with months ahead on the horizon, but, in truth, we don’t, and as the days fill with work and as state testing looms large, time fades quickly and what once started off as a pleasant walk soon becomes a panicked march toward the end. And so, we have to make decisions about the time we have, and often, those decisions require us to bend to the will of external factors (state testing, etc.), forcing us to let otherwise less test-like things fall to the side. In Freak, I let an old friend fall to the side.

That was years ago, but recent events have reawakened my memory and longing for my old friend. First, World Read Aloud Day day caught my attention.

Unfortunately, I learned about it too late and was caught unprepared (won’t happen again), but it brought back fond memories, and I reminisced about Freak.

Second, just yesterday, a Twitter peep Scott Hazeu tagged me in a tweet that challenged me to tweet out my own great book recommendation, and of course, immediately, Freak the Mighty came to mind. So, I tweeted it out, which then gave me a chance to respond to another Twitter peep Marian Dingle, setting the stage for me to defend my old, abandoned friend.

“Read Aloud. Change the World!” urges the World Read Aloud Day promotion up above. Change the world. Can something so simple change the world? And how would one know? Not sure if there is empirical evidence for such things. That seems reserved for things found in a standardized world. But where one fails to find or follow the empirical emperor, there is always another measure to consider. One’s gut. I have no data to defend my decision to read aloud to my kids. I cannot say with certainty that it changes the world. But I can say it touches the world, it connects the world. When I read Freak to my kids, we connected. We laughed. We dreamed. We cried. We wondered. And though those things will not find a place in the standardized world, there is always a place for them in the humanized world. My gut knows that. My gut also knows that I miss my old friend. May well be I’ll have to pay a visit. Always been hard for me not to listen to my gut.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…finish and begin our analysis of The Book Thief.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

When we sit at the table, we have a chance to listen, we have a chance to speak. We engage in the power of story. With this in play, we open the door for understanding; we create a space for empathy. We create connections. We create an opportunity for community. I had a chance to sit at two tables last Friday. I had a chance to speak. I had a chance to listen. I had a chance to connect.

At the first table, there were no kids. They were either still sleeping or just getting up. Fridays are late-start days in our district, and so, for that first, without-kids hour, we collaborate. It began as a normal, grade-level collaboration opportunity, Jenna, Maddie, and I were talking Performance design when our first guest showed up. Anna, one of our assistant principals, a regular guest, joined us, and we set to work, reviewing and discussing next steps in our journey. But there were more guests to follow. Unexpectedly, our district superintendent and building principal also showed up. Our principal joined the grade 9 team, and our superintendent joined our grade 10 team. The big boss was at our table.

Currently in the Cheney School District, we are working on establishing professional learning communities (PLC’s). The work has just begun, and our Superintendent, Rob Roettger, is leading the charge as we make our way through this important but challenging transition. As a leader, he is present in the work. And so, though unexpected, we were not surprised to find him at our table. In fact, we were quite pleased. The push for PLC’s was welcomed by our grade 10 team. In many respects, we were already there, so this direction, this work was largely just a continuation of what we had already been doing: coming together around student work to drive our decisions about teaching and learning. With Rob at the table, we were eager to share our work. We are proud of what we’re doing. And while we did touch upon and highlight what matched up with our district mandates, the conversation wandered down a different path. We got to talk about grades.

It was our assistant principal Anna’s fault. She pointed out the path, urging us to share our select-and-support grading journey. And so we did. Well, I did. Those who know me best, know I like to talk. Professionally, no one perhaps knows me better than Jenna and Maddie, my  gradeless peeps. And while they did on occasion, get a word or two in, I ran with the ball while I had it in my hand. I have been wanting to have this conversation for two years, so I seized the opportunity. I think I even remembered to breathe, for during my run-of-the-mouth marathon, I did not pass out, and I only stopped because Maddie finally suggested maybe we take the mic away, and so, nearly forty minutes later, I stopped.

Of course, though it may have seemed, I did not talk the entire time. It was on some level a conversation. And at the end of that conversation, I would like to think that we had a chance to share our crazy journey, we had chance to make our case for why grading practices need to change. Of course, too, we offered that we have not arrived, that we have not found the answer, that we are simply chasing better, and it was a fulfilling moment for me when Rob said that he was stealing, “chasing better.” We spoke. He listened. We connected. Because…because we were at the table.

At the second table, there were kids. Many kids. And at that second table, we made our first formal efforts to create community with a new mix of members after the semester shuffle. Here are the things we discussed at our table during our first monthly Community Circle.

“Share a superstition.”

“How do you deal with stress?”

“I envy people who…”

“What is something that you could teach us?”

“What is the best/worst part about being a teenager?”

“What are you looking/not looking forward to as an adult?”

We had such a rich opportunity to share our stories on Friday. And while some of the kids still long for their semester-one families, many of them fell in comfortably with their new families on Friday. At the table. 

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns (our daily at-the-table talk).

…continue viewing The Book Thief.

…end with a Sappy Sy Ryhme.

Happy Monday, all. May you find yourself at your respective tables today.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

One student desk.  One teacher chair.  One brightly-lit hallway.  For five days this was my set-up.  A set-up that was new, different, and nontraditional to the random students and teachers that walked by each day.  But this was the set-up that not only worked best for us but was promised to our students before their grading conferences began.  A promise of privacy.  And it was through this privacy that I was able to have 127 experiences that I’ve never had in my nine years of teaching: an individualized conversation in which each student was able to select a letter grade, explain why he/she deserved that grade, and offer suggestions/recommendations to our grading policies for next semester.  

Now, I’ve posted term grades numerous times over the years.  And while I’ve made tweaks and changes to my grading system over the years, it’s always been a mere “going-through-the-motions” part of my job.  Yes, I believed in those tweaks and changes, but if someone had asked me, “Why did John get a C in your class?” I’m not sure what my answer would have been.  I’m not even confident I would have been able to give a “good” answer.  Sure, I could have talked about what he did and didn’t do throughout the semester, but that is really more about behavior rather than learning.  This semester, however, I knew what my answers would be.  Even after those 5 days, I am confident that I could communicate why a specific student received a specific grade.  Why?  How?  Because in room 220 it’s now about learning, growth, and progress.  These conferences provided me with the opportunity to understand more about each of my 127 students.  I know what they learned.  I know how they did.  I know how hard they worked.  I know the progress and growth they’ve made.  But I also learned how students feel about our grading policies.

We prefaced their input with statements such as, “Our grading policy is not going away.” and “We, as teachers, have already made additional changes for next semester.” but we still wanted to hear their thoughts.  After all, it’s all about them.  They are our customers.  Admittedly, I was a little nervous about what students would say.  I was pleasantly surprised.  My kids love what we’re doing.  Many said they didn’t have any suggestions or recommendation because of that.  Some, when I asked specifically what they like about their grading policies, were able to provide answers.  Below are some of the highlights:  

“I really like this grading system because it allows me to show I really have tried.  LA has always been difficult, but I never had my work acknowledged.”

 

“I like the fact that it has to do with how much I have improved and not how well I did on each assignment.”

 

“I love your grading system, and I like getting to choose the grade that best fits me!”

 

“I just want to say you have made my LA class feeling go way up so just keep doing what you are doing.”

Customer reviews are powerful.  So powerful that they are talking to their other teachers about our grading policies.  So powerful that some of those teachers have expressed interest in learning more about what we’re doing.  So powerful that I am beyond excited to journey through the next 88 days with my 132 students.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Made a promise. Will keep a promise. I promised my kids that we would hold Community Circle on the first Friday of each month, so today, we will do just that. In truth, it’s a pretty easy promise to keep, for I value it as much as my kids. It, like Smiles and Frowns, is, I believe, among some of the best decisions I have made this year. It is my commitment to community, to culture, to relationships–to kids, not content. Don’t get me wrong. Content is important. It is what I teach. But it is not more important. Kids are more important. They are why I teach. It is they who drive me forth, chasing better. I am not driven by the curriculum. I am not driven by external data. I am not driven by my yearly evaluations. These seek my compliance. I am driven by my kids. They seek my commitment. And so, I give it. I live it.

And, to that end, I have found a better “better” with my “My-Room Standards.” They are my standards. They are the standards that I have set for myself. They reflect, above all, how I want the kids in my room to feel. And it is from here that I make decisions not only about kids but also content. Both. But it starts first with what matters most: my kids. Content follows, but it is still from here that it is considered. These are the standards to which I am committed. I will comply with the state standards, but they make poor acquaintances for they come and go with the wind. Kids come and go, too, but they never really leave. We are bound by our shared experience. And in that I find a great responsibility, a noble commitment. Kids will, by and large, forget what I have taught them. But they will never forget how I made them feel. And I alone am in charge of that. I alone decide how my kids feel in my room, my world. It is to that I am committed. It is by that I am driven.

Recently, at the start of the new semester, I made public that which drives me. They have always floated around in my head, but I decided to make them public, to make them a promise. These are my promises to my kids. These are my promises to myself. Today, I am seeking to satisfy three of my self-standards. Today, I will use Community Circle to make good on my promise that in my room, kids will feel connected, valued, and respected. No text-evidence today. No themes. No parallel structure. No rhetorical appeals. Just people talking to each other, listening to each other, and learning about each other, so we can feel connected, valued, and respected. Just that. Nothing more. A simple promise.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…speak, listen, and learn through Community Circle.

..end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Set a record. Oh, nothing that’s gonna win me any awards or anything, but it’s a record I am proud of nonetheless. Of my 112 honors students last semester, 100 finished Night. I am pleased, even proud. But I am more proud that they chose to read it. As I shared in a post back in December Big Kids, Big Choices , I presented the novel as a choice, speaking to the importance that choice plays in commitment, speaking, too, of my having no interest in compliance. And that is how I went on to conduct business. There was no carrot. There was no stick. Kids chose to read it. And the work we did from there honored that choice. And, importantly, it did not dishonor or shame those who chose not to read it. I just found them some alternatives. Of course, I would have loved to have achieved 100% completion, but I didn’t. However, the 90% I did manage, far exceeds anything that I ever accomplished back in the days of “read-the-book-or-else.” I far prefer my “read-the-book-to-grow” approach. Choice. Commitment. Truth. I am proud of my kids’ commitment. Their commitment. All I did was give them a choice.

That path is now behind us; however, as we continue to explore and examine the Holocaust, we will no doubt draw from Elie’s story as we seek truths about the human experience from this dark chapter in our history. Today, we venture down a new path, with a different medium. Today, we will begin viewing The Book Thief. Well, we actually started down this path two days ago, reading the final chapter from the book version of The Book Thief, setting the stage not only for the movie, but also for exploring the larger question of using movies in the ELA classroom, a question that is often debated in and out of the schoolhouse. Yesterday, I gave my kids a chance to chime in. Here’s how I did it.

I presented three claims.

Books are better than movies.

We should not fictionalize the Holocaust.

We should not use movies to teach content in language arts.

I then asked the kids to affirm, negate, or qualify my claims (I used this opportunity to introduce our work with argument this semester, too). This, then, created the platform for our discussion. It took nearly all period, though that was not the plan. I figured it would take us about twenty minutes, and we would get the movie underway, but it turned into an honest, open, thoughtful, wide-ranging discussion about books, movies, kids, adults, society, technology, and learning. The best part? I listened. Oh, I helped move the discussion along, but the kids took the reins, speaking their truths, sharing their wisdom. Our discussion concluded with my asking them to step into my shoes, to become English teachers for a moment and consider the implications that our discussion had on our “shared” position. The kids picked up on what I hoped they would, that my deciding to use movies to teach content was no lightly-made decision. And it’s not. It is something that I wrestle with constantly. But in that “wrestling,” I have found some relief from including the kids in the conversation. Kids. They really are pretty smart. We need to give them more credit.

And with that we will set to work today with the movie. Work. We are not watching the movie to be entertained. We are watching the movie to learn. Like any vehicle, movies, with the right driver behind the wheel, can move kids down a path of learning. Here is the viewing guide we will use with the movie.

Of course, in an ideal world, I would only use books to drive my kids’ learning. But we live not in an ideal place. There are many realities that disrupt our ideals. And I am still wrestling with that. Still trying to find better. Better. Always better.

My Room Update

As many know, I have begun pushing a movement on Twitter, #myroom. With it, I am trying to encourage and challenge my fellow educators to maximize their in-the-room power, considering first and above all how they want kids to feel in their rooms, their worlds. Recently, along with my #myroom poster, I created #myroom comment cards for my kids as a way for them to let me know how I am doing, how they feel. Got my first two back yesterday. Wanted to share.

This one from Isabella warms my heart, for it lets me know that she knows. Means everything to me.

This one from Violet reminds me of how I need to adapt if I am going to create a space where all kids feel connected. Words matter. Pronouns matter. I will get better at this. All kids.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…begin viewing The Book Thief.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Yesterday, I posted Part One . Today, I will pick up where I left off, sharing the changes that we have made to our grading approach at the mid-year point.

Performance as Practice

Hear me out. First, our “completion” approach last semester was folly. Our intentions were good, and we do think there is some value in “doing to learn,” but since there was rarely, if ever, any feedback with the practice (simply a not-enough-time issue), it played only a minor role in our kids’ growth. Second, it still perpetuated a bit of a carrot/stick stigma that we have been seeking to avoid. Because it was entered into Skyward and because it showed up as not done and/or it lowered the “approximate grade” if incomplete, it seemed to take us back to the compliance-based days of old, not the commitment-based days we were seeking to create in our classrooms. So, we sought change; we sought our next better.

Convinced that our best learning opportunities were coming from our Performances, we began to wonder and think aloud about how the implications of that truth could impact our approach moving forward. With reporting practice completion now off the table and recognizing the impact of Performances on learning, we knew we would have to find a way to get more Performances in front of our kids, but we also knew that it would have to be different from our previous approach.

Last semester our basic approach involved our putting practice in front of the kids to prepare them for Performances. It made sense. In life, we practice to prepare. Beyond the real-world logic of it, we were also trying to be mindful of our kids’ potential performance anxiety. No coach throws her players into a game, expecting them to perform without sufficient practice. So we planned out our practice, doing our best to ensure that kids had enough practice before we asked them to perform. Again, we believe our intentions here were good, but because we did not provide sufficient, if any, feedback (time issue), good intentions were not creating the results we were hoping for, and in the meantime, Skyward was filling up with lots of numbers, but those numbers meant little, and they were resulting in misleading representations of grades. Something had to change. And it started with my “What if…”

“What if we approached it from a performance-as-practice angle?” I proposed to my gradeless colleagues.

“What do you mean?” they asked?

“Well, here is what we know…”

• We know we that our practice approach is not producing the results we are looking for, and reporting completion is skewing our kids’ learning stories.
• We know that there is value in our Performances. This is where the learning is happening.
• We know that we want there to be more Performances this next semester.
• We know that those Performances create a valuable feedback loop.
• We know that our Performances write and provide the details of each student’s learning story in our classrooms. We just listened to and learned from those stories in our grading conferences.
• We know that our approach consistently puts kids in front of similar Performances, allowing them to apply what they have learned from our feedback.
• We know that our kids’ performance anxiety is being addressed through our retake and correction policies.
• We know that practice is necessary, but we also know that we need to find a better way to use it.

“So, then, what if…”

• we present our approach to our kids as, “In our classes, you will learn by performing. We will use Performances as the means to learn. You will perform. You will get feedback. You will perform. Repeat. In our classes, we DO; we REFLECT; we DO BETTER”?
• we commit to one Performance per week, maybe even have a designated Performance day?
• we continue to acknowledge and address anxiety by even more earnestly encouraging retakes?
• we, instead of front loading practice,  just jump straight to Performances? Of course, we will make sure kids know how to take the Performances, and there will still be some introductory activities, guidance, and practice, but let’s consider practice on the back end. What I mean is, what if we created a system where kids made choices about practice, based on feedback? What if we had a system in place where a kid could access specific types of practice that target where he needs help based on what he has learned from his Performance?
• we basically did away with the notion of summative assessments? I mean, we already have on some level, but if we just simply framed everything around the notion that all Performances are formative. And they are, aren’t they? And what’s cool, and what can and will exist is our belief that learning happens at a different pace for each kid and learning never ends. We can create that for our kids. The only thing in our way is time, but we know we can monkey with that a bit, too–as we have. Nothing is final. Learning does not end.

What if? Many what if’s to discover and discuss as our journey conversations continue. We have not found the way, but we are ever chasing to better our way. Of course, it is entirely possible that I will be calling this a folly in some future post, but for now it is how we will seek to optimize learning in our classrooms.

For now, A “2” will still be a “D” in Skyward (going back to yesterday’s post). We have already had that conversation with our kids, explaining that our marks are communication, not grades. And we will continue to have that conversation, asking them to let go of the past, to embrace their present, and to trust that we are doing our best to do better for their futures. One better at a time.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…wrap up our conversation about fictionalizing the Holocaust and using movies to teach content in the ELA classroom.

…begin viewing The Book Thief.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

...end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all. Sorry for the long post.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

“But it’s a ‘D.’ On Skyward, it’s a ‘D.'”

During our recent grading conferences, I gave kids a chance to offer recommendations/suggestions to our grading approach. Most shared that they liked it just the way it was. Many made no suggestions. Some suggested that we change the 3, 2, 1 scale because on Skyward, our online grade book, a 2 registers as a D. Some even went on to offer alternatives ranging from 5-point to 10-point scales. In fact, a few offered rather detailed plans with corresponding rationales. I was impressed, and I listened, but I respectfully declined their offers, thanking them for their input. Here’s why.

To be fair, they are not wrong. It does show up as a D on Skyward. I, too, find this bothersome and unfortunate. If a parent is not adequately familiar with our approach, then this could be problematic, especially if their child is unable to sufficiently explain the approach. Of course, this is not necessarily the result of our not trying on our end to be communicative with parents about our approach, but we do acknowledge that what we send home does not always get home, so when the situation arises, our hope would be that a parent contact us, so we have an opportunity to explain. Still, one’s knowledge of our approach does not change the bump in the road that Skyward is. It’s a problem. Can’t deny that, for it is neither readily nor conveniently adaptable to our approach. So, we have had to make do as best we can. And that making do, if you will, is about educating parents and students to think differently about grades. No, small task.

My gradeless colleagues, Jenna Tamura and Madeline Alderete, and I have been in and out and around this issue. We know the glitches that exist and persist as we bring our approach and Skyward together. And we have tried to make it work as best we can, but we concede that it will never be a perfect marriage, so we just keep tweaking, trying to honor not only our approach but also our kids and parents.

With this in mind, here are some tweaks that we have made to our approach for second semester.

We will no longer report practice on Skyward. We made this change for a couple of reasons. First, some background. Going back to earlier in the year, we discovered that if we did not enter a “counted” score, then our grade book would not show up on the student or family end. So, we decided, for better or worse, to go ahead and enter both practice and performance as “count” scores (both 3-point scales). This was not ideal, but it would give parents a sense, albeit only an approximate sense, of progress. And though it never really created too many issues with parents, we were worried that it might create false positives–or negatives, especially with the addition of practice scores.

For instance, a kid who had only done marginally well on performances but had diligently completed all practice, might have a percentage that communicated a “higher grade” than what the performances (the only evidence kids could use to support their selected grades in the end) reflected. Conversely, a kid who had scored 3’s on all performances but did not complete all practice, may have a percentage that communicated a “lower grade” than what the performances reflected. And in the end, it is–and was–about the performances. Practice did not come into play during our grading conferences. So, with that in mind, we have decided to no longer include practice in Skyward. But there is more to it than Skyward.

Practice is important. Our approach to learning relies on it. In the end we are asking kids to perform, and to support that, we have to give them practice. But we have decided to approach practice differently. As we reflected on the learning from semester one, we came to recognize that the most powerful learning moments for our kids came from their performances. It was here that they were growing, and it’s no wonder, for it was here that they were getting the necessary nutrients to grow. They were getting feedback. Even more, they were given, through additional required and redo performances, the opportunity to apply what they had learned from the feedback. And as we made our way through our grading conferences it became apparent as kids pointed to their evidence that the performances were key to kids’ growth. So, I had a thought. Performance as practice…

To be continued… Tomorrow, in Part 2, I will explain. But I’m out of time this morning. Sorry.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…continue our Holocaust/Injustice unit. We are going to watch the Book Thief. We are going to explore among other questions whether it’s an appropriate representation of the Holocaust and if movies have a place in the ELA classroom. 

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all. Sorry for the uninspiring, incomplete post this morning. I guess that’s what happens when one sits down with no idea of what he’s going to write about.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Hate endings. Love beginnings. As a sentimental and sappy soul, I need both. Maybe that’s why I love teaching so much, for it is full of goodbyes and hellos. And though I am sad that semester one has come to an end, I am eager to dive into semester two, excited to begin this next leg of our journey.

In the space between, I have spent some time reflecting, seeking my next better. And though my head is still buzzing with too many ideas, here are some glimpses into a few of my next “do better’s.”

A Better Mantra

Last semester, our daily mantra was our Mindset Mantra.

This semester, needing not only to mix it up a bit but also to change our focus, I have come up with our “Chasing-Better Chant.” I have been looking for a way to make “Do. Reflect. Do Better.” a more intentional focus in 211. It serves as the foundation for my learning, and I want it to be the same foundational element in my students’ learning. So, we will chant this each day, three successive times, each time getting faster. Yes, the kids will perhaps find it awkward at first, but they found the Mindset Mantra the same in the beginning, too. And it became a powerful, daily part of experience together. Of course, it will go beyond the chant. It will also become our approach for reflection. What did you DO? REFLECT on what you learned. How will you DO BETTER next time?

Better Standards

Well, a different type of standard, anyway. We have our Focus Standards, our learning standards. And they will continue to be at the center of our work, our learning. But there is another set of standards that may be just as important. Until now they have lived in my head, quiet, private guides to how I interact with my kids, but I am now going to make them public, for I believe that when things are public, there is a degree of accountability. By making them public (posting them around the room) and asking my kids to hold me accountable, I believe I am setting the stage for attending to the standards that will not only make me a better teacher but also create a better experience for my kids.

I also created feedback cards for the kids. I want them to let me know how I am doing. I especially want to know if I am not delivering on my offer. I really do want them to feel this way. And the only way I will know is if they tell me.

A Better Approach to Discovering the Power of Voice

It is not always easy to find ways to make things relevant or meaningful for kids. I have succeeded. I have failed. And though I will no doubt continue to do both as I learn, here is a possible “better” for helping my kids find the power of their own voices. As I shared recently, here is one of my sincere hopes that I shared with my kids in my letter to them at the beginning of the year.

I hope you discover the unique power of your voice. Language is power, a power available to all. It is not reserved for a select few. You have language, which means you have power. I will help you find your way, but it begins with your believing that you have power. I so hope you make this important discovery this year.

On a long bike ride yesterday (some of my very best thinking time), I discovered an idea. For our work with argument and persuasion, I came up with “Project Be A Voice.” I will share more specifics about this in the days and weeks to come, but for now I simply wanted to come up with a poster to create some anticipation and maybe generate some enthusiasm among the kids. The poster below is on my door and on my front board. I want my kids to be voices. In truth, I believe they already are. Now they just have to believe it.

Lots a betters around the bend. So excited to get moving with my kiddos. It’s a perfect time to chase better, to do better.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…discuss my new “betters”

…reflect on Passion Paper experience as our first chance to apply our Do-Reflect-Do Better approach to learning.

…make some individual decisions about this semester’s Passion Paper

…do our Chant.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all. Note on *Day 90. I did not realize that our conference days back in November counted as 2 of our 180 school days, so my count was off. Will happen again in March.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Seems I wasn’t the only one with a Final Act  in mind yesterday. It was on Juliane’s (pronounced Julie–en) mind, too. It seems a lot was on his mind. It seems a lot has been on his mind. Yesterday, he shared some of that “lot” with us, and I’m not sure we who were there will ever not carry his words with us.

He’s a quiet kid. He’s a studious kid. He’s a kind kid. He’s a funny kid. He’s a bright kid. The list goes on.

And he is not a big kid. His stature is small–quite. That mixed with his quiet demeanor makes at him at times blend into the background and go unnoticed. But there are times when he peaks out above his glasses and makes known his presence by the brilliance of his words, and he is small no more. Yesterday, was one of those days. Yesterday, Juliane was too big for the background. Yesterday, Juliane was a giant.

When I posted his promotional poster on the front board, reading quietly his title and “teaser,” I suspected he may have something special in store, for I had felt the weight of his words before. And as I looked at the boy he had drawn on his poster I was struck by the likeness it bore to the young man I had gotten to know over the past weeks. Secured with tape, it faded into the background of the more conspicuous, colorful posters of his peers. And the quiet boy in the poster, like the quiet boy in the room settled into his quiet place.

“Sy, can I go last?”

Not thinking much of his request at the time, I asked the rest of the writers in the room if they were okay with it. They were. I consented. Juliane nodded. And we moved on, moving through many fantastic pieces of writing. And though all were great in their own right, none were quite as powerful, quite as stunning as Juliane’s. His turn at last, he took a deep breath, exhaled deliberately, and the small quiet boy became a giant. He grabbed us. And he did not let go.

Juliane is writing a journal. He shared entry fifteen with us yesterday. It is an entry full of light and darkness. It is at once disturbing and inspiring. It is a testament to the wisdom, the fear, the hope of youth. It is the voice of a little boy in a big world, lost and found, and yesterday that little voice reminded us all of our humanity, of our responsibility to each other. We sat in stunned silence, many near tears as Juliane transformed once more from giant to quiet, little boy in his quiet place. But he will no longer be able to hide, to fade into the background. He found the stage. He shared his voice. And we will never be able to unhear his words.

Of course, at this point, as the English teacher, I feel compelled to acknowledge the writing. No, there are no paragraphs. Yes, there are errors. Yes, there are some awkward constructions. And no, not all his transitions were smooth. And yes, he should have proofread more carefully. And if I were to place it on the scoring scale, the score would reflect these concerns, but that score would fail to weigh the impact of his words, the power of his voice. The point of the Passion Paper is not the writing. As I have said in earlier posts, I did not design this opportunity to judge the writing. I designed it to elevate the young writers in the room. And though I had not conceived of the Passion Paper when I wrote my kids the letter below in August, I think it was on my mind.

I hope you discover the unique power of your voice. Language is power, a power available to all. It is not reserved for a select few. You have language, which means you have power. I will help you find your way, but it begins with your believing that you have power. I so hope you make this important discovery this year.

I will not set Juliane’s writing on a scale. I do not have to. I cannot deny the weight his words already carry. I cannot deny the unique power of his voice. He has found it. He has shared it. And I, and his peers–and now, maybe even you–are better for it. So proud of this young man, this giant.

Today, we will finish publishing our Passion Papers. So glad I have a front row seat to the awesome show it’s been. Excited to find more giants today.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…publish Passion Papers.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all. No school tomorrow. Mid-winter break day, so I won’t post.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.