Morning, all. Experienced some technical difficulty this morning, and I am getting to it late, so it will be short. Sorry.

Yesterday, for our Journey Journal entries, I asked the kids to identify a “truth” that they had discovered about school/learning so far this year. It was not limited to my class. Here are some of their truths.

• “I work for the teachers I like. I don’t work for the teachers I don’t.”
• “Teachers and students see things differently.”
• “I think the teachers here at CHS care about learning, but it seems parents and administrators only care about grades.”
• “Things we were never taught show up on tests.”
• “Like anything, we get out of it what we put into it.”
• “Teachers seem to forget that we have six classes a day, and we have lots of other things going on outside of school, too.”
• “It’s a lot of work.”
• “Learning isn’t about grades.”
• “School does not alone define me.”

As always, I appreciate my kids’ candor. I only got a limited sampling of responses because we ran out of time, but I am curious about the other truths that weren’t shared. And while “truth” is perhaps subjective, there is at least a ring of truth in the kids’ words. Kids know.

On a related note, I often tout Smiles and Frowns as the best part of my day, and as such, it was included in one of the truths I have discovered this year. Truth: kids already have voices they just need a chance to share them. That is why I do Smiles and Frowns. I told the kids, “Smiles and Frowns is the best decision I have ever made as a teacher.” It remains somewhat of a surprise to them that this is the first year I have done it. It’s become such a natural part of our culture; they just assume that I have always done it. But, till now, I only did it occasionally, and this year, I fully committed to doing it each day, no matter what. It’s a non-negotiable. And from where I stand, it will always remain a priority. One cool thing that’s begun to happen is that absent kids are texting in their Smiles and Frowns. Even when they are gone, they want to share their voices. And, as important, we want to hear them. And that’s the truth.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

...begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…read Night or work on Passion Papers.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

“I am going to introduce a book to you in a way that a book has never been introduced to you before. You don’t have to read it. You heard correctly, you do not have to read Night. I am not going to make you. I don’t want you to read it because you have to. I want you to read it because you choose to.”

Last week, I indicated that I would roll out Night like this to my classes. On Friday, I did. Of course, I went on to make an impassioned case for why they should read it, but I maintained that it was a choice, not a requirement. Part of my impassioned case included more of Elie’s words that I used to create a sense of responsibility among my youngsters to become witness, to carry memory.

There is a display on my front board with these words. I have asked the kids who finish Night to sign it as a pledge, a memory pledge, a pledge that they will carry memory, that they will not forget.

Their choices did not end there. I went on to present them with a during-reading guide called Night Notes (see below). I wanted to provide some direction for those who desired it, but I left it optional for those who just simply wanted to read, unencumbered by distraction. Here, too, like with their choice to read or not to read, it took a moment or two for them to weigh what I was selling and make an initial choice. Sabrina, bless her brave heart, was the first to stand and return the handout; others followed. In all, roughly half declined the notes, preferring to guide themselves. And I was sure to honor their choices by making them feel at ease with their choices. I thanked them; I praised them for making big-kid choices. I want them to commit, and that commitment transcends their complying with the “work” I put in front of them. I appreciate and value their honesty. And I hope they are beginning to appreciate and value mine.

Will all kids read the book? Nope. But I will trust with unwavering certainty that those who sign the pledge did. I know that this is an unconventional practice. I know it’s a risk to let a roomful of sixteen-year-olds make such big choices, but after years of fake reading and game playing, I was willing to take such a gamble. Of course risks can lead to reward. After third period was over on Friday, Amelia and Logan stayed after to share that they would read the book because they have a choice. With ten minutes left in fifth period, I told the kids the time was theirs. They sat in silence and started reading the book. Fifth period doesn’t do quiet, much less silence. Big kids indeed.

How will I assess learning? I will come from a place of assuming that all kids are reading the book, and I will design performances to that end, and for the kids who don’t, they will have to help me come up with alternatives for them to demonstrate proficiency with the focus standards. Yes, that’s work, but it’s real work, work that I am willing to do to get to a place of learning for all kids, despite the content choices I make. There’s always another way. But we have to be willing to find it. I am.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

...begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…choose to read Night or work on Passion Papers.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Morning, all. Sleepy Sy this morning, which means a shorter post. Sorry. Wanted to share some of our work with Elie’s speech from the past few days.

Goals

1. Set the stage for Night. We approach it from an injustice standpoint.
2. Give kids the opportunity and tools (SOAPSTone) to dig deeply into non-fiction.
3. Provide a frame for the importance of words in analysis.
4. Create collaborative opportunities for kids.
5. Emphasize contribution and commitment to our learning community.
6. Provide opportunities for kids to discover relevance in Elie’s message.
7. Give kids a chance to share their voices.

Celebrations

1. Kids were honest. and I was honest about “words.” Of course, I want them to be diligent “word looker uppers.” Some are. Most aren’t, citing laziness. I told them that my hope is that they came to find value in knowing–really knowing words–from their experiences with me. I won’t make them do it. I want them to commit for themselves. But I did have an angle of influence. I asked them to contribute to our community by providing a definition or synonym for the seven key terms from the speech. They got behind that.
2. Kids found and shared their voices. They constantly amaze with their insights and wisdom.
3. Kids linked Elie’s words and world to their world, pointing to Time’s “Person of the Year,” as a contemporary example of the necessity of confronting injustice.

It has been a pleasure to live and learn with my fine young people. They surprise and amaze me every day. They give me hope. They give me hope that they may indeed come to own the notion that they can, that they must contribute to their world now and later. It is their world, and it is real. And they can make a difference.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…have time to read Night.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

It’s not a big book. It’s only a 116 pages. Some of my kids will read it in one night. Many will finish it long before its scheduled due date. It is a powerful book. It grabs hold and won’t let go. It first grabbed me in my political science class as required reading my freshman year in college. It has clung to me since. And now it is required reading in my class. And just as it took hold of me nearly thirty years ago, I hope the same for my kids as we seek to explore this dark chapter in human history through Elie’s eyes.

But, despite my hopes, despite my attempts to motivate and inspire kids, despite its relative short length, some will not read it. That’s reality. That’s truth. And the why’s behind the truth are different than one might think. Still, reconciling any such truth is not easy for an English teacher. Should I take it personally? Is it my job to be a cheerleader for books? If they don’t read it, is it my fault? If they don’t read it, am I a bad teacher? The list goes on. And for me the reality of kids’ not reading the texts I assign has been a career-long burden. And I am not alone. Other teachers speak and write of this. Yesterday, I came across Sarah Zerwin’s post  Procedural Display and Fake Reading: My Story of Coming to Teaching Literature. Kids fake read all the time, even–maybe especially–our honors and AP kids. The struggle for all is real.

So what does one do? For a time–too long a time–I would punish kids with a final test that would adversely affect their grades if they didn’t read. And while this got some to comply out of fear, for many all it did was invite more diligent digging into the worlds of Sparknotes and Cliff’s Notes. Or worse, it simply caused kids to shutdown, caused kids to hate reading even more. For time eternal, I have tried and will continue to try–today as a matter of course–to be a cheerleader, attempting to motivate and inspire kids to read. My latest trick is a “Memory Pledge” with Night. I ask kids to sign a pledge indicating that they will be witness by reading Elie’s memoir. It will work for some but not all.

This year, just yesterday, I encountered a new-to-me situation. “I hate required reading.” “I don’t like being told what to read.” Okay, the statements themselves are not entirely new–I’ve heard them before. But the speakers are new. They are both readers–avid readers. Neither was being disrespectful; each was being honest. And in their honesty I found both surprise and dilemma.

Surprise because I would not have expected it from either if I had been asked to select the kids who would likely not read the assigned text. Again, they are among my most avid readers. Obviously, I am still “learning” my kids. Like onions, they.

Dilemma because I face a philosophical crisis. I stand atop Mount Commitment. I preach all the time about my desire to create a culture absent of compliance. I want kids to do things because they want to, not because I made them. In the past I have called it the “true do.” Back in June, in my summer series, “Reflection’s Reality” I posted  The Dilemma of Do.   l talked about the many ways I have discovered that kids “do” things from my years in the classroom. And though I have been distancing myself from a culture of compliance for years, the last two years with Project 180 have fully severed that connection, and I now live in a culture of commitment–by my own hand. I have created my own monster. But he is not an unkind monster. I love him. I nourish him. I protect him. And if doing so, makes me guilty of malpractice, I then stand ready, shielding him from the clubs and pitchforks of the advancing mob. I have no choice. He is mine. I own him, monster or no.

So, today, when I roll out the red carpet for Night, I will address this with my kids. I will have an honest conversation with them. I will acknowledge the reality. I will be lead my best cheers. I will conjure compunction with my “Memory Pledge.” But I will also call my monster from the shadows. He will lurk no more. I will tell the kids that it is up to them as to whether they read Night. I will not make them. I will not penalize them. They have an opportunity. They have a choice. It is their learning. But with ownership comes responsibility. They, then, too, are creators. And they, too, will have to be stewards to their own creations, their own monsters.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…finish analyzing Elie’s speech.

…begin reading (or not reading) Night.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

“We’re done. No more. No more Smiles. No more Frowns. Today was our last. We’re done wasting time with things outside the curriculum. I have a job to do. I have content to teach. We have already wasted 300 minutes this year. Starting tomorrow, we will be done with Smiles and Frowns. The end of the semester is fast approaching and the state test is around the corner. We have more important things to do. Sorry.”

“We don’t get a say? pushed Isabella, her peers’ heads nodding in unison as they muttered their agreement.

I paused, measured their eyes. “Fine. I’ll give you a voice. Probably won’t matter, but I’ll give you a shot. Get out your Journey Journals and make an argument for why we should keep Smiles and Frowns.”

Purposeful pens make a certain sound. And as the kids set to work in their journals, music arose from their instruments as they emphatically–aggressively–etched their dissent, pressing their pens deeply into the paper.

“Okay, what ya got?” I sighed with bored indifference.

Shelby, stabbing her finger into her page, “On November 17th, turning back to the entry in her journal, I told you I was thankful for you because you listen to us, because you care. I almost cried when I read it out loud, and now you’re taking it away?”

Ainsley, pen raised above her head, “I will throw this Sharpie at you.”

Jacob, leaning into his desk, “This is my outlet. I get so worked up in my day, and it’s a great way for me to let off steam. I need this.”

Kaiden, looking around the room, “I don’t usually talk to these people, much less get to know them, but Smiles and Frowns has changed that.”

Isabella, eyes pierced, teeth clenched, “This is our time for a voice. Where else do we get to talk about things that matter to us? What about when we were all upset about our access time being taken away from us, and we shared our frustrations? You can’t do this. I am so pissed right now.”

Annika, calmly, “It’s such a refreshing way to start the period, especially here during 6th.”

Many students at once, “We are a community.”

Bethany, desperately bargaining, “What if we…,” going on to present a list of options for doing it differently, instead of taking it away.

Me, smiling, “What if we keep doing it just as we have?”

Isabella, head cocked mouth open, “Wait. What? You were joking? You lied to us? Now I am really pissed.”

Me, sitting up and leaning towards the kids, looking at each, “Okay, I’m sorry that I misled you. I just wanted to see if you cared about Smiles and Frowns as much as I do. Obviously, you do, and that pleases me greatly. Smiles and Frowns is here to stay. I will never take it away. Promise.”

Feeling a little mischievous yesterday, at the end of the period I told the kids during 5th and 6th that we were no longer going to do Smiles and Frowns. As you can see from our interactions above, it elicited strong responses from the kids. I did not relish misleading them, but I wanted to see if it mattered to them–really mattered. It does. And so now, it matters even more to me. Yes, it has cost me roughly 300 minutes of instructional time, but it is perhaps the most valuable time I have spent this year. I made a promise to myself and to my kids that we would start each day with them, using Smiles and Frowns. At the beginning of our journey, the kids, I believe, were indifferent about Smiles and Frowns because it was so out of the norm for them. But at this point in our shared journey, they have moved far beyond indifference. They have come to own it. It is theirs. It is mine. It is ours.

Note: Isabella and I are fine. Yes, she was pissed, but she forgave me. It was only a little lie.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns. (Forever and Always)

…take a short sentence performance.

…complete a SOAPSTone analysis of Elie Wiesel’s speech as a class (didn’t get to it last week).

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Passion is an oft loosely used word. And recently, though my intentions were sound, I used it to invoke inspiration only to discover that I created confusion. Part of the problem, as my regular readers are aware, is that I have a flair for alliteration, so when I first presented the opportunity to my kids, I quickly fell in love with the title “Passion Paper.” It was alliterative and it contained the word passion; where could that possibly go wrong? Turns out, it didn’t take long to go wrong. In fact, a number of my kids never got out of the starting blocks. They were stalled. Paralyzed. And “passion” was the problem.

“Sy, I don’t know what to write about.”

“Well, it’s easy just pick a passion. Go back to your desk. Set your timer for two minutes and list the things that you are passionate about.”

Several similar conversations and prescriptions later, I discovered that I had misdiagnosed the problem. “Passion” was the problem. The kids thought it had to be something that burned brightly within, and so they were having a hard time finding their fires. And I mistook this for laziness and lack of imagination, but really I created the problem by presenting what actually turned out to be a rather prohibitive term. So, yesterday, I took another stab at it, and attempted to explain it better by offering that, here, “passion” simply meant something that they wanted to do, something in which they would find value, something from which they would find joy. Further, I offered a list of is’s and is not’s.

I did (poorly). I reflected (with help from the kids). And I did better (at least for now, for there is always a “better” better). I am not going to change the name. I do love alliteration. And the idea of passion does resonate with me. I am just going to do a better job of explaining it in the future, for this paper, this project, exemplifies the freedom to learn that I desire for my kids. I want them to have an opportunity to explore and grow as writers under their own power. I want them to discover value. I want them to experience joy.

I want them to come to me as Abby did yesterday.

“So last year, I started writing a short story called, “Breathe, and…”

“Yes, I interrupted.”

“I just really don’t like my first topic, and…”

“Yes, I interrupted again. Change it.”

“It’s just that I really liked…”

“That’s passion. That’s what I want for you, Ab. Go for it. I want you to chase what you want, not what you think I want. It’s your passion; it’s your paper.”

“So, I can change it?”

“Yes!”

Of course, the problem here goes beyond the word “passion.” Part of the problem is the kids’ still adjusting to the freedoms I have provided. They are not accustomed to holding the keys. But as we continue our journey, I hope they come to trust and embrace their ownership. In the meantime, I will be patient. In the meantime, I will continue to provide opportunities that create commitment, not opportunities that force compliance. Truly, I want kids to do because they choose, not because they have to.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…continue pursuing passion with our passion papers.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I wish I could say it’s organized.  I wish I could say it’s neat and tidy. I wish I could say it’s well-in-hand. But I can’t. It’s a mess. It’s a juggling act. On a unicycle. And I am terribly uncoordinated. But somehow. It’s working. Sixty days in, a third of the year, it’s working. And while I’d like to claim it’s the product of proper planning, it’s more likely luck than skill.  Either way, there is some emerging evidence that suggests that Project 180 is making a difference: for kids. And for me, that’s the only difference that matters.

Grades off the table, feedback on the menu, relationships as the centerpiece, Project 180 seems to be creating experiences apart from the norm, away from convention. And that is my goal. I want learning to be an experience, not a transaction. And it is in that experience that I want kids to learn themselves first, so they may better learn the world hereafter.

Recently–finally–I finished reading and scoring the kids’ narrative essays, and beyond learning a great deal about their lives, past and present, I learned, too, about how they are beginning to feel as writers. And “writers” is a key term here. I want my kids to view themselves as writers, not as “completers” of writing tasks. From saying, “We are writers,” each day in our Mindset Mantra to reflecting on our growth, I try to set the stage for kids to discover their roles as writers in room 211. Here are Abby’s and Shalla’s reflections.

Granted, this is a narrative essay, which creates more freedom, but even so, as our first major writing experience of the year, I feel like the kids were able to just be writers. Yes, they were still held to standards, and no, not all met those standards, but each had an opportunity to explore and grow as writer.

Additionally, I also recently asked kids to write letters to their parents for conferences, sharing their experiences in my class. Intentionally, I asked kids not to discuss grades but rather their day-in and day-out experiences in 211. Of course, though I was not the target audience, I was a reader, and in my reading, I learned a lot about how they are feeling about their experiences with me thus far. Here are some of the things I took away.

1. Smiles and Frowns was the most-mentioned activity. The kids value it, recognizing that it’s an important piece to building community.
2. Most indicated that they felt minimal stress in my class even though they felt challenged. This resonated a great deal with me. One, it is a primary goal for me to make this a stress-less class, BUT two, it is also a goal to present this as a high-expectations with high-support class. Stressed brains can’t learn.
3. A vast majority mentioned our monthly Community Circle activity as a highlight. Community matters.
4. Most, if not all, mentioned my flexibility with deadlines, retakes, and redo’s.
5. Many felt like they were actually learning stuff and not just covering stuff. We do not set a fast pace in 211, and we hover around standards for lengths of time. Learning takes time.

This is a small sampling of the things that stood out in their letters to their parents. And what I appreciated is that as parents read the letters at conferences there were lots of head nods and “She-talks-about-this-at-home” comments. Here is Shalla’s letter to her parents. The “sweet summer day” comment is a little much, but I had asked the kids to work in a “trick of the trade.” Shalla included a simile.

For the moment, I am pleased with our progress, but I will not rest here long. The wheel will turn, and we will be upside down again until we right ourselves, 180 degrees at a time, rotating from one “do” to our next “do better.” That is the 180 experience, a messy, tossed-about ride as we move through our days, as we live through our experiences, doing, reflecting, and doing better. I am lucky to have such a fantastic group of companions.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…continue working on our Passion Papers.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Kids are smarter than we believe.

Kids’ worlds are real enough, really.

Kids can if we let them.

Kids trust if we trust back.

Kids’ limits shouldn’t be our limits.

Kids know if we’re faking it.

Kids are wiser than their age. 

Remember, it’s their learning, not ours.

These are my six-word, so-what statements about kids, which were inspired by our messy learning around injustice over the past two days in 211.

Yesterday, on a whim, I went off script and rewrote a scene. Actually, off-script is really not a whim for me, it’s the norm. Staying on script would be more a whim than off. Anyway, at the last minute, I came up with an idea for wrapping up our Table Talks on injustice. I asked the kids to culminate their thinking into six-word, so-what sentences about injustice. I wanted them to make a final emphatic statement to publish for the class. And though that may sound easy, it actually ended up being a greater challenge than one might believe. But the kids were undaunted.

I’m so proud of my kids.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

...begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…clear the clutter from the trail. We have these days on occasion, so we can pause and gain control of all that we have going on.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Ryhme.

Happy Friday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do better. 

Each week I seek to make myself unnecessary. I intentionally take myself off the stage, so the students may star. And that is not easy. I like the stage; I like the spotlight. So, giving it up has been difficult; however, doing so has led me to one of my most important and humbling discoveries in my recent efforts to do better. I am not a star. And the “show” has suffered for it. Rotten Tomatoes’ ratings have been unkind, but not out of line. To be sure, the lead has been miscast for years. And I’ve no one to blame but myself. Vanity and ignorance are poor guides for making such important decisions. So, to make up for my misguided notions of the past, I am pointing the spotlight on those who should have been center stage all along.

Here is my general approach to that end…

1. …provide a script that outlines the learning opportunity.
2. …make collaboration and discussion a priority.
3. …provide choice.
4. …create independent and group responsibilities.
5. …make no mention of grades.
6. …relegate myself to a minor supporting character.

This week it took the form of something I am calling “Table Talk.” We are beginning our Holocaust/Injustice Unit, and I wanted to get the kids talking and thinking about injustice. Here is the “script” that I provided.

Here is what it looked like.

My biggest regret is that I cannot share what it sounded like, but if one had been present, one would have heard kids digging deeply into profound discussions about justice. And I? Well, I just sat back and enjoyed the show. Next time, I am bringing popcorn. As for the Tomatometer? Certified Fresh. 100%. Nothing rotten here. Just magic.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…finish our “Table Talk.”

…read and do a SOAPSTone analysis of Elie Wiesel’s Nobel acceptance speech for Night.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better…and avoid rotten tomatoes.

Month two is over in our journey. The speed at which time has gone is unreal. After I had made the jump into the journey last month, October has seemed to feel a lot less overwhelming. The students are still asking plenty of questions about their work in class, but the grading seems to be coming more clear to them.

During the last Learning Log day, our principal and superintendent were doing walk-throughs in the high school and decided to join in on my class at the beginning of second period. Since I am naturally a nervous person about being observed as a new teacher, I was extra nervous when they walked in. At the beginning we did our Smiles and Frowns as we normally do and then I proceeded to hand out the Learning Logs. I explained the changes that Syrie, Ms. T, and I had worked so hard at for their new and improved Learning Log.

The kids started working and I started walking around to help the kids who needed it. I could see our visitors out of the corner of my eye also walking around, asking the kids questions about their work. Their second stop was with Kinsey. I was helping with another student in the same group as Kinsey and paused to listen as they asked her what she was putting on her Learning Log.  Kinsey looked up and asked them “Well, do you know about the LA 10 grading policies?”

Our visitors answered her back that they were aware of them, but they didn’t know a great deal about them. Kinsey then took the initiative to not only tell them all about the grading policies, but show them her growth in the class by letting them look at how many times she has retaken performances to reach proficiency. They left the class and Kinsey completed her assignment.

I sighed with relief. Not because the principal and superintendent were gone, or that Kinsey made me look “good”, but because she understood. I’ve watched Kinsey over the past couple of months grow as a learner, and to hear her articulate her learning to others made the hard work that we have put in worth it. I hope that by the end of our year long journey many other students will be able to do the same thing.