How am I doing?

Gonna check in with the kids today. Gonna ask them how they feel as a way to learn how I am doing.

It starts at the door.

This is my door. It’s a daily commitment to my kids as they enter my room, where I believe I am responsible for each day’s experience, which in turn inevitably impacts how they feel, and I believe how they feel is what they will remember, so I focus on how they feel, and in my room, this is how I want them to feel. And today, I will ask them to let me know with this card.

Others have latched onto this idea as well. Teacher 2 Teacher just recently re-posted this in the Twitterverse.

And last week, a connection on Twitter from Kansas let me know that he’s begun using the idea with his kids.

How am I doing? When I lend an ear, they let me know. My ear is theirs.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Well, fourth cup of coffee and still not finding my muse this morning. So, I am going to wish everyone a happy Friday and an even happier weekend.

Sorry, all. Cup’s empty today.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

You are going to get a 1. Promise. You were never not going to. We just have some work to do before we get there. So, let’s linger in your learning for awhile.

I have three numerical indicators in my room. 1, .7, 0.

1 is done. The student has completed the feedback/response process with me as we have worked towards meeting the success criteria for the Learning Check. Not all kids arrive here at the same time or along the same path.

.7 is an invitation. The feedback/response process has begun. I have offered feedback for the student to respond to as we work towards meeting the established criteria for the Learning Check.

0 is “Please submit.” The feedback/response process cannot begin until they commit.

Commit. Please submit. Please commit. That’s what I mean. That’s what I meant. Commitment. Commitmeant.

I will stop asking my kids to complete and submit.

Submit: accept or yield to a superior force or to the authority or will of another person.

Ick.

I will start asking my kids to complete and commit.

Commit: be dedicated to (something).

This is what I mean. What I meant. This is Commitmeant.

Whoa. Did not expect to find this this morning. In fact, I had no idea what to write about. Almost didn’t.

Hmmm. Lots to reflect on now. Sorry I got distracted. Out of time.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I recently wrote about “Why Work” (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/working-with-why-project-180-day-136/). I presented an informal, developing plan for engaging kids about their missing work by asking them why. And while I do care about the missing work, I care more about connecting with kids, communicating with kids. And really it’s the latter that has begun to take shape on this second week into the final quarter of the year. We are having conversations.

Yesterday, I had an important conversation with Sally (name changed).

She feels embarrassed, even with a no-stakes, what-I-hoped-was-a-safe-space tASK with our Super Sentence community work. Basically, we do a super sentence each week that begins with a kernel sentence and the kids add to their sentences on a “community” Google Doc. My goal here was for them to see peer models as they constructed sentences together, so they could see and follow what others were doing if they weren’t quite sure how to do the day’s tASK themselves. I thought it was going swimmingly. So, when I asked Sally about her not doing the work yesterday, I was not expecting her response. If anything, I was expecting the normal, “I just forgot, etc.” reason. I would not have guessed what she shared.

I was crushed. I immediately responded, apologizing earnestly. And this began an afternoon-long conversation via Google Classroom “private comments” to set things right and to come up with a plan that was comfortable for her.

Of course, I could not have asked. I could have left it undone as I have so many times before. And as I think back to those so many times where the blank spaces (zeros) filled the air, I am struck by what was really missing. A conversation. A seeking to understand. I assumed too much. And I knew too little.

And I am hoping to change that with “why.” I hoping to kNOw more.

Much more to explore and say here, but I am out of time this morning.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Dang. Got nothin’ this morning. Well, that’s not entirely true. I just don’t have anything that’s not going to take more time than I have left this morning. So, I will just share the t-shirt and idea that I revealed this past weekend at the CodeBreaker Summit.

A few months back, as I was working through chapter one of my book, I came up with the idea of “breaking better” as a way to help capture the “braving better” and “daring different” parts of the Project 180 Journey. So, that’s is how I pitched the idea to folks this weekend. My son Finn made the shirt for me. May be the first of many ideas for “Better” gear.

But I gotta finish the book first.

Happy Tuesday, all. Sorry for the lame post this morning. I will do better tomorrow.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Experiencing a bit of an adrenaline hangover this morning. Already on a high from the audience side of the CodeBreaker Power Summit this past weekend (so many passionate and brilliant speakers), I got a super shot of adrenaline yesterday afternoon when it was my turn to share some of the Project 180 story. And then, I crashed. Still a bit “crashed” this morning as I reflect on the experience from both sides of the screen.

And though there were many practical takeaways, there were more inspirational gifts as speaker after speaker shared their authentic journeys. It was an honor to have a moment among them to share the serious and the not-so-serious side of Project 180.

It was a fruitful weekend. And though Dr. Brandon Beck gifted me this screenshot of my presentation, he gave me a greater gift in the form of two questions that are still looping through my reflection cycle. Here they are (paraphrased).

What was school for you?

When does your important story show up?

Thank you, Brandon.

Happy Monday, all. Find your fruit!

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Time. A lot of time. I spend a lot of time “learning” my kids. Smiles and Frowns alone easily accounts for more than 1,000 minutes a year. Sadly, some see this as a waste of instructional time, time that could be spent teaching. I see it differently. I see it as an investment in learning my kids so I can teach my kids.

No kid the same, despite our trying to pretend they are with our one-size-fits-all approach. Standardization is convenient, but after that, it really loses its ability to support learning (learners). On the other hand, humanization is inconvenient, but after that it really comes into play for impacting the learning experience of each kid.

If I know John, then I can teach John. But “teach” here is supporting John, not delivering content. Teaching isn’t talking. And I think many who guard instructional time are really protecting their talking time (or however they cover content). Teaching, I believe, happens during the experience (responding with feedback), not before. And our response to the learner is only as meaningful and as accessible as it is familiar, and we find that “familiarity” in our “connectional” time. Teaching and learning aren’t disconnected if the teacher and learner are connected. And so, we have to create and protect our time to connect. So, I do, and with each connection, l better learn my learners so I can better teach my learners. I am learning to teach.

And that takes time. A lot of time.

Happy Friday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Today’s Learning tASK is optional.

This is the frame. This is how I frame our daily work, our daily Learning tASKs. It’s an ASK. It’s a chance to learn. It’s a chance to make a choice. It’s a chance to make a commitment.

I talk a big game about commitment as the counter to compliance, something that has been at the heart of Project 180 since year one: The Year of the A. So, I have to walk that game, too. And for the last five years, my wandering walk has led me here. To this frame.

I am ready to put this around our work each day. I am at a place where I can say “Today’s Learning tASK is optional.” Of course, such a move doesn’t–and didn’t–happen overnight. It has taken me years to get here. Well, that’s not entirely true, I guess. It’s always been “optional” because I don’t grade practice, but it’s always been kind of quietly optional, meaning I haven’t always said it as publicly or pointedly as I do now. But I do now. I tell my kids each day that the tASK is optional, that I want them to make a choice, that I want them to commit. And, for the most part, they do. They choose to do the work. And many of them talked about that choice in their recent Learning Letters, which I shared in Monday’s post (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/normal-project-180-day-138/). And for those who choose not to do it, I simply ask them to share why.

When I set out to find better learning experiences for my kid five years ago, I pictured a room where kids committed to their learning. And though it’s not picture perfect, it’s beginning to fit the frame.

I have worked hard on the frame.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

New quarter. Final quarter. In-person. Five days a week.

We’re back.

Mostly.

But we’re back. And while back doesn’t mean normal, it does mean closer to normal than we’ve been in over a year.

But I am not even sure what normal was anymore. And so, it is hard to know what is, for what was will likely never be again. And maybe that’s okay, for that may more widely open the doors to betters ahead, making what will be better, if not normal. Regardless of is, was, and will be, I am looking forward to the doing. reflecting, and doing better.

And as I look ahead, I will take with me what lingers from my kids’ latest Learning Letters. Here’s a few gems that meant much to me. Thought I’d share the student view from the 180 classroom, which I always hope is not normal, for normal isn’t better. In here, it can’t be.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Kids are writing their Learning Letters right now. And though they are selecting and supporting their final grades, I want them thinking about learning, not grading. But this is no easy think, for they have been conditioned for the whole of their educational experiences to think of learning in terms of grading. So, yesterday, as they set to the task of helping me make sense of the wreck where learning and grading meet, I shared the following My Room Message and Sappy Sy Rhyme with them.

And I can give grades. I have given grades. Oh, I think I thought kids earned their grades, but that earning was too often conforming to and complying with my grading expectations, which were not always focused on learning. And this resulted in my giving them grades in the disguise of learning.

Learning, on the other hand, cannot be given. Learning is authentic. It happened or it didn’t, and there is one who knows best: the learner. She alone knows what she is carrying forward. And what she has “earned,” she will keep. And I don’t think that can be captured in a mark. I think it is captured in a story, so invite her to share her story, before we engage in the undignified task of making a final mark. And my hope is that as the mark eventually fades, the impression of her learning lingers.

Sorry, out of time. Meant to write more.

Happy Friday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.