“At each ‘C’ you must check in with me before you move on to the next.”

To help kids move away from simple summary and step deeper into analysis, I use a Claim-Cite-Clarify approach. Additionally, it helps them learn to integrate text evidence into their thinking, rather than just including text evidence. Our work with theme thus far has required kids to present and defend their themes with our “Life is Lit” selections, our weekly literary passages or selections. Life is Lit, or Life is Literature, is my attempt to sell the notion that literature is a rehearsal for the human experience, and that is why we read literature in my class, to learn from and live in the human experience, even if only vicariously, though many of the themes we discover and explore are more real than vicarious to my young humans. What’s more with this approach, in an age where it is ever more difficult to get kids to read–actually read–I have found that shorter passages/selections better ensure that all have read the material, and, too, we can get to more and varied texts with shorter chunks. In short, I have had better success with this approach to literature than I have had with novel units.

To this point, we have practiced identifying, presenting, and defending theme with six selections, and we have had one performance opportunity, where the kids have had a chance to formally demonstrate proficiency with our first two Focus Standards.

Focus Standards

1. *I can integrate cited text evidence into my writing to support my thinking.
2. *I can determine and analyze the theme of a text.

From the first performance I learned that we still had much to do, that we weren’t quite there…yet. The kids needed more practice, and they needed more feedback. So, I designed an activity where the kids would work in teams to not only complete a CCC for each of the two selections but also hold each other accountable by sticking to the learning-target criteria, and then as an added checkpoint, they would have to check in with me before moving on the next “C.”

I wish I would have videoed or at least recorded their conversations. Waiting my turn, I was scoring other work, listening in on their conversations, and I was rather pleased with their genuine dialogue and authentic collaborative efforts where they found not only agreement but also–more importantly–disagreement, working through the latter until they reached consensus. And once they reached consensus, they would call me over, and I would give them feedback on their attempt, which would sometimes be a hit, and other times a miss. In truth, I found greater value in their misses for they presented better learning opportunities. Many had to go back to the drawing board after their initial attempts, but each time I believe they dug deeper and understood better. For most of them, there were a lot of aha moments. Many exclaiming, “Oh that’s what you want.”

Learning takes time. And it registers, it “clicks” at different moments and from various means for each. Some kids “got it” right away from the first CCC. Others have picked it up gradually from the practice and performance feedback. But most needed this activity to find their clicks. And that is what matters to me: the click. Of course not all are there, and some will require even more time and yet other means, but I am committed to their learning. I can’t teach them everything, but I can focus on a few things (Focus Standards) and help them turn their cogs until they find their clicks.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…finalize activity mentioned above.

…reflect in Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

There’s always one. There’s always that one class that stands out among the others. It’s hard to put a finger on exactly what makes it stand out, but it does nonetheless. It’s as if the mix is just right, and the kids create a culture of their own, give life to their own identity. For me, this year, that is my 5th period class. But in the beginning, I would not have thought it so. No, for they were my biggest bunch of “passers” during Smiles and Frowns, and I even recall finding them a bit lame, much without character. But my first impressions were wrong, and as we have gotten on, they have become…well, that class.

Earlier this week, they were unusually chatty, and I let them go on, but at the end, I composed a special Sappy Sy Rhyme in response, which I regrettably did not save. In the short rhyme, I mildly–jokingly–admonished them for their “talkiness.” The next day, I walked in a minute late to discover in my tardiness that they had conspired, and they had all taken a vow of silence, not uttering a peep during roll, just nodding their heads. And then they attempted to do the same during Smiles and Frowns, but for some it became too much, and by the time it got around to Moses their vow was broken. But the score was settled. They had gotten even.

Then yesterday, after posting here about my absence the day before and my simply being a tag along in their journeys ( Tag Along ), I discovered the note from my 5th period kiddos in the picture below.

It was my first smile of the day. And it became an even bigger smile, when I read the notes from my sub, who corroborated their story.

Yes, they went off the path that I had set before them, but they ended where I needed them to be. And, even more, they owned it. And I love that. And I told them so. It was perhaps my favorite moment of the year. My big smile, a smile that grew even more upon learning that all my classes had demanded to begin with Smiles and Frowns, even though I had not made mention of it to the sub. I even discovered that they had added it to the list of to-do’s on the whiteboard. In addition, I also learned from my colleague across the hall that 5th period had ended with our Mindset Mantra, saying it loudly and proudly enough that she could hear it across the hall.

We are valued members of this community.

We are readers.

We are writers.

We are learners.

We are awesome!

Yes. Yes, you are. You are awesome. And…you owe me a stool.

Such a happy moment for me yesterday. I am both proud and pleased that the culture that we have been working to build over the past forty-five days has begun to come together. Each class its own puzzle of mixed and varied pieces fitting together in ways both imagined and unforeseen. And I am but a piece. I am one fit, one part of their marvelous mosaic, and I value beyond words the small space they have granted me as I continue to tag along.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…engage in Community Circle (always first Friday of the month).

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend. Finally got some sleep last night.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Not much of a post this morning, all. Still sick. Not sleeping. Yada, yada, yada. And not feeling terribly inspired. Sorry.

But, despite my current state, we have reached the 1/4 mark of the year. And as I pause and look back, I am pleased with how far we have come, and I am eager to get even farther down the trail with my band of young traveling companions. I left them on their own yesterday, as I went home sick. And I am sure they got along just fine without me, which admittedly is thrilling and depressing all the same, for I like to think that they need me, and they do, but I’d like to cling to them a bit longer before letting go. And, to be sure, letting go is the plan. With each passing day, I push them farther away, seeking to give them greater ownership, seeking to make myself unnecessary in what is really their journey, not mine. I am simply, or rather strive to become, a tag along. And in that striving, I find a small measure of nobility in my purpose. Opportunity.

I have the opportunity not to lead them to the end of a journey. No, I have the opportunity to give them a chance to find their own ways, to find their own selves as they advance into their own unexplored territories, discovering the wonder of the world without and their own powerful person within. In the end, I matter little, but in that end, I find all that matters: an opportunity to have experienced life and learning with the young spirits with whom I was lucky enough to walk with for a stretch. And in that end, I am fulfilled. I am complete. I am honored.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with a Smiles and Frowns.

…wrap up a theme activity (didn’t get to it yesterday since I was gone).

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

“It’s a ‘D’!”

“No, it’s a ‘near miss.'”

I use a 3-point scale in the grade book to report completion of practice and proficiency on performance. I adhere to the language of a target. 3=hit. 2=Near Miss. 1=Far Miss. 0=Missing. It’s a new language for the kids who are accustomed to percentage-based grades. And so, when they see 66% in Skyward, they think “D” instead of Near Miss.

“Kaitlin, you have to quit thinking in terms of percentages. You have to start thinking in terms of, ‘There is a target. I am asking you to take aim at that target and ‘shoot.’ After you have done so, we will evaluate how closely you came to hitting the target. You scored a 2 on the performance which means you missed the target, but importantly, it was a ‘near miss.’ You were close. And then we can discuss how you can adjust your aim next time, so you can hit the target.'”

And the next time is the key. I put the standards in front of my kids multiple times so they have ample opportunity to take aim, adjusting their aim in response to my feedback. For some, next time also becomes “retakes,” which I encourage, trying to instill the notion that assessment is for learning, that each time we do and adjust and do again, we learn. That is the goal.

“But what about all the practice?” Kaitlin pressed.

“Practice is just that, kiddo. Practice. I report completion of practice as a record to your parents of what you are doing in my class. I work hard to ensure that the practice prepares for performance. But in the end, it’s the performance that matters, for that is where you demonstrate growth and proficiency.”

“So, I don’t have to do the practice?”

“Right. It’s a choice. I want you to do it because you find value in it. I want you to see that it leads to better performances.”

“So, it doesn’t help my grade?”

“Well, technically, no. But it doesn’t hurt it either. If Kyle doesn’t do any of the practice but scores 3 on all the performances, he is in a strong position to make a case for an A at the end of the semester. Of course, this will likely be an exceptional case, but I am not going to punish him for not doing the practice if it was not necessary for his success. I want you to do ALL of the practice. Of course, I do, but again, I want you to do it because you have discovered it is a path to proficiency.”

“So it’s all about the tests?”

“Well, performances, yes. But you have multiple opportunities to retake until you have demonstrated proficiency. And that’s by design, kiddo. I want you to redo and retake. I think it’s a necessary part of the learning process.”

“Okay,” she nodded.

Midterm is Friday, so grades have become a part of the discussion in room 211. Kids have an opportunity to select and support a grade (see self-evaluation below). There is not enough time to confer with each kid, so the self-evaluation is what I will use to report grades at midterm. I will post whatever they select. At term, in a grading conference, they will have to convince me with evidence of growth and proficiency with the standards, and we will then come to consensus on a grade that we can both live with. I did give the kids a little direction. As they considered their midterm mark, I told them that if they are scoring 3’s on the performances then an A is fair representation of their achievement at this point, etc.

Of course, I would just as soon that we not have to shove learning into a letter, but I have not the power to escape that reality. So, in the meantime, I will continue to try and make learning more meaningful for my learners, even if it’s not a neat and tidy fit within the system. By no means have I discovered the way, but I believe I am moving towards a way, a way that will no doubt require more conversations with Ms. Kaitlin, a way that will eventually result in my kids rethinking their learning. Their learning.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…wrap up our theme work with “By Any Other Name.”

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all. Still feeling crappy. Hope I can kick this cold.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

Just because I love it. Just because it feeds my spirit. Just because I look forward to it every single day, does not mean that it’s easy. It’s rewarding–incredibly so, but it’s also demanding–incredibly so. And though I am generally buoyed by all that is good and all that is great, there are days when the buoy is not enough, and I sink beneath the surface, a hand become periscope seeking succor, asking for aid in a sea vast and lonely. Today, I’ve not the strength to tread. Today, I’ve the mind to give in, to float away, letting the weight pull me under, washing away the worry. But then, I remember. I remember that I promised Riley we would read through her Passion Paper. I remember that I promised several kids they could do retakes during access time today. I remember that we have to do Learning Logs in fourth and fifth period still. I remember. I remember…well, I remember too much. And with a sigh, I begin to swim. I have to. Too much to do. Too many to help.

I should stay home today. But I won’t. I will drink even more coffee. I will overdose on Alka Seltzer Cold Plus. And I will survive. And the kids will help. They always do. Funny how devoted we become to those with whom we, in the end, spend so little time. I am always amazed at the hold they establish over me. And I know I am not alone. And so a shout to all who ride the waves with me every day, caught in the ebb and flow of an existence beautiful and impossible, an existence sustained only by the young lifesavers that right our ships in our greatest moments of need.

Today’s Trail

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…survive. (Promises to keep/Miles to go before I sleep)

…reflect in Journey Journals

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Tired. Getting sick. Again. But the work continues–though I suspect there won’t be much Super in the Syrie today. Just Simple Syrie. Some days it’s just about survival. Today is about survival.

My tenth-grade team and I recently made some changes to our Learning Log. We felt the former was too teacher-dependent, and so with this one, we sought to make it more learner-dependent. We wanted them to be pushed to dig into their performances to seek to discover and understand the why of their misses. In most cases, this can be determined from the accompanying criteria, but in others it necessitates a conversation with us. Either way, the kids are placed in a position where they have to find some answers, information that will not only help them understand their most recent performance but also will help them better hit the targets in the next one.

Additionally, we added a target-specific growth-goal requirement. The plan here is to get the kids to identify from their “digging” a particular target for which they need to improve their aim. Once identified, we want them to come up with a plan for progress between now and the next Learning Log, for which the “timeline” has changed. Our initial thinking with Learning Logs is that we would complete them every two weeks, but in truth, there just wasn’t enough to log about, so we now have taken a more flexible, responsive approach, completing them when there is sufficient information to do so. For me, that’s looking to be every three-to-four weeks. We will complete one today.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…complete Learning Logs.

…continue description practice.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all.

Do Reflect. Do Better.

Okay, maybe I should have knocked on wood yesterday after sharing how great things were going in room 211. Should have, but I didn’t, and so I should not have been surprised when things didn’t go as planned, when things didn’t go as imagined. I should have knocked.

“Okay, please go write your “reader reaction” on the board.”

In an effort to get kids to wade deeper into the analysis pool, away from the safer, shallower, summary end, I have begun asking them to first capture their emotional responses. Last week, as writers of their own stories, they had learned from Pixar writer Andrew Stanton that the first commandment in storytelling is to make the audience care–emotionally, intellectually, aesthetically. Here, I was looking for how the author made them care emotionally. So, I asked them to share on the board.

Some made their way to the board, but many were still in their seats, a good number of them rifling through the pages of their literature text. And it suddenly dawned. They didn’t read the story. 

This, of course, is nothing new. Kids don’t do. Kids don’t read. Regardless the teacher. Regardless the grading approach. In the end, kids are kids. What I should say is that people are people. For I have discovered that even in the “real world,” even when your boss asks you to do something, people don’t always do, for there have been many times in staff meetings and professional development sessions that the real-world adults have shown up without having done the homework. And I marvel at the irony, grumble at the hypocrisy, for they are the very same who hammer kids who don’t do their homework.

No hammers in 211. I quit hammering kids a long time ago. I never really found hammers to be particularly effective at motivating kids anyway. And, even though there remain vestiges of my old-get-the-hammer self–I was truly not pleased yesterday–I kept my emotion in check. I don’t need a hammer. Hammers are for nails. My trade puts people–puts kids–in front of me, and people are not nails to be pounded into position. They are to be worked with, challenged, and supported. And so, with no hammer to place in my hand, I tried my seek-to-understand tool, my empathy wrench.

“Okay, stop. Let’s own it. Who didn’t read the story.” Too many hands went up.

“Why?”

“Wi-fi was down.”

“It was in the book and not in a handout.”

“I forgot.”

“I meant to this morning.”

“You didn’t give us a link in Classroom.”

The list went on.

“Okay, fair enough. I will do better. I will–no matter the length–make hard copies for everyone (we only have a classroom set of literature texts that we don’t use very often). I will also, when possible, provide a link in classroom. I will own my part. And I will do better. But, you must, too. I am not saying your excuses are neither fair nor valid, but I am firm believer in if there is a will, there is a way. So find a way. Please. I am not mad, but I am disappointed. Not in you, but for you. You are missing out on an opportunity to learn and grow. There will be more to come, but we can’t get this one back. Fortunately, I still think there will be some benefit as you listen in on the discussion and lesson today. We gotta do better, chicos.”

I am not sure if it’s because the kids talked to their peers in my other classes or if their peers actually read it the night before, but as the day went on, fewer and fewer kids showed up without having the story read. Either way, all was not lost yesterday. And I believe it will get better moving forward. Of course, there will still be days of disappointment. They’re kids. They’re people. And people just do “peoply” things sometimes. And when they do, I will do what I can to turn it into a teachable, reachable moment, but no hammers; my days of hammering are far behind me.

Here’s my Sappy Sy Rhyme that sprouted out of my disappointment yesterday.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

...begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…complete Learning Logs.

…clear some clutter from the trail.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

“It’s pretty heavy.”

“Okay. I can do heavy.”

But I didn’t know the weight, didn’t understand the gravity that would pull me into my chair, sinking my spirit into the depths of the void from which she pulled her story. I will not share it, but I will say that kids live from and through things they never should. And as they share their weight, we come to carry their despair. And it gets heavy. After twenty-two years, I carry much, and I manage, but I wavered beneath the load a bit yesterday, for it was heavy. And for a moment, it was too heavy. But she righted me with her resilience as she lightened the load some, speaking from strength I could not have imagined. Humbled, I re-shouldered what she shared, and stood tall for her, for all my kids past, present, and future. I stood and stand strong for them. I have to. I am a teacher.

“Sy, would you read, my description?”

“Sure, Matt. Lemme take a look.”

But as I began, I became the text. Matt was reading me. I could feel his bespectacled eyes weighing my reaction, searching for hints from my face as I read, looking for affirmation, fearing rejection. I was the open book, and in that moment I was the one who would write the story that mattered. Oh, Matt’s description was great, marvelous actually, but that is not what mattered then. It was my reaction that would make or break the moment. And I delivered. Nodding, smiling, and bumping Matt’s fist, sharing in his triumph, I provided the final satisfying line to our co-authored experience. And as he walked, beaming with pride, back to his desk, I felt another familiar weight on my seasoned shoulders. The weight of my power to build or destroy. Every moment of every day, I am analyzed and scrutinized. I live on a precipice where words and looks can teeter worlds. Worlds. Their worlds. That’s a lot to carry. And here I came into it thinking that I just had to deliver content. Turns out the job’s just a little bigger than that.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…jump into prepositional and appositive phrases.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all. To all my teacher peeps, thanks for carrying the weight of their worlds. You are all super men and women.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

Yes. Yes. And yes. Success should not only be measured by the grade I hand out at the end of a term, for I am human, and I am fallible. Oh I think deeply and work conscientiously to measure each kid fairly, but even so, learning is too complex, the job too big to know with unwavering certainty if the label I place on a kid is one-hundred percent valid and reliable. And so, I cannot claim to-do right by each kid with a mark, for I believe it is impossible to fully measure the essence of learning. I may be right, but I may be wrong. And in a world where labels are believed to measure success, I wield a terrible power that goes beyond the limits of my human capacity. With a stroke of a pen on the page or the tap of a key on the board, I have a power to set a kid’s day, a kid’s year, and in a sense, a kid’s life.

I see it every day. Kids judge their own self-worth by the mark I put on their work, and as a result, we have created a system of false idols and hope. And by the time kids reach me in high school they have been so deeply conditioned to respond to those marks, they can hardly function in an environment where those marks are de-emphasized. Of course, I blame not them. They have been subjected to years of psychological stimuli in the form of grades, and so they cannot help it. And as such, it may well be that I cannot change it now, but I am bold–dumb–enough to try.

Not everybody gets what I am trying to do with Project 180, my journey to flip education on its back. Some think I am crazy. Some think I am ruining kids’ lives. But then there are others who do seem to believe in what I am doing. But is not for them. It is for my kids. It is about transforming their experiences in such a way that I place them at the center of what I am doing. And that takes a different approach, an approach that is foreign in many ways to what they have experienced in the past, for it runs counter to what’s always been done. But I believe that’s all the more reason to do it.

I waste time each day. I spend five minutes at the beginning of each period with Smiles and Frowns. I chant Mindset Mantras with the kids. And I share a Sappy Sy Rhyme at the end of each period, a last chance to let my kids know they matter before they leave me for the day. These all take time. Sometimes, like last Friday, I waste even more time, taking kids through an activity to help them think about and address their stress by “putting down the glass.” They could have used the fifteen minutes to work on their essays. And then there’s the hour a month I waste with Community Circle.  Yep. I waste a lot of time, so much that I hope admin doesn’t catch wind, else they will find me guilty of malpractice, of slowing down the proficiency and output in my corner of the factory.

But they have caught wind. In fact, the superintendent, the assistant superintendent, and the principal happened by during the “put-down-the-glass” activity. They saw me wasting time. They wasted it with me as they joined in, joined in helping me let kids know they matter. And if it takes wasting time to make that happen, then I will be labeled head time-waster, for nothing I teach matters more than those whom I teach. That’s what matters–now and later. And that tops my agenda each day. Kids can’t matter some of the time. They have to matter all of the time.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…finish up and turn in narrative essays.

…reflect in Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all. Thank you, Amy Fast, for your words. They matter. You matter.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

In their silence I discover worlds. In Kailey’s silence I imagine beautiful inspiration as her fingers click-clack across the keyboard, words materializing on the screen, her life rising out of her, a summit of sentences whose beauty is masked by the black of their tracks, waiting to reveal color beyond bonds. In Elijah’s silence I fear the dark desperation hidden behind the blank illuminated screen that belies his deep empty well, bereft of beauty, absent of color, his words unable to break beyond the barrier of black. And, too, there is the silence of all, unique worlds cloaked in wonder, hidden in worry, and I am left to find sense in their sounds of silence.

But these moments are few in room 211. Silence is a rare commodity in the busy bustle of the 180 classroom, where learning is messy and noisy, both natural by-products of engaged kids. And so, it is the silence that strikes. And when it does, I am both found and lost, for it means all and nothing at once. This week there have been many such moments, moments that lack clarity as I am still learning my kids, and I am left to wonder–and worry–about my Kaileys and Elijahs. And my worry and wonder grow precipitously with each new sentence that reveals the story behind the kids in my seats, the kids who have triumphed, the kids who have failed, their lives now mine as I weigh their words, as I total their tales. And like that, I am transported into worlds where I am both blessed and cursed to carry the beauty of their success and the burden of their failure. This is teaching. It is not simply a fifty-five minute transaction in the static setting of four classroom walls. It is a lifelong connection to worlds across a dynamic divide drawn together by words often found in silence. Their silence. And in their silence, I hear, I learn, I live. And I respond.

This week from their muted mouths, I heard. I heard their stress, and I responded. Because I can. As I have said before, the difference between possible and impossible in the classroom is almost always the choice of the teacher. So I choose possible. The kids need more time on their essays, so I am giving them more time. Their silence as they have worked diligently all week screamed it, and how can I not hear, how can I not listen, how can I not respond? I work really hard to keep stress to a minimum in room 211, even to the point of gently admonishing kids for displaying signs of stress about my class. “No stress,” I tell them. But of course, my power is limited, for I cannot alleviate the stress that they experience outside my walls. But I wish I could. And I would because kids are too stressed, and as an adult who doesn’t always deal with and knows the dangers of his own stress, I am deeply concerned by the amount of stress our kids carry. And so, I do what I can to help. And sometimes, I even try to help beyond my four walls.

This morning, I came across this post in the Twiterverse, and it inspired me to do an activity with my kids.

I am going to head to the store this morning to purchase cups and gallons of water. I am going to give each kid a cup and ask him/her to write his/her name on it. I will then pass the gallon jugs around the room, asking each to pour some water into her/his. I will then share and read the Twitter post. I will finally ask each kid to walk up and place his/her cup on the table that I have put in front of the room. I will leave the cups there all day, so all of my classes can see the power of putting down the glass.

Undoubtedly, some kids will find it corny, but I know that with some it will resonate deeply in discovering that they are not alone and that they can take some control of their stress. It may not help all my kids, but if it helps some speak their silence, then it’s all worth it.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…put the glass down.

…move our writing farther down the path towards “due.”

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all. Hope you can put the glass down today. You deserve it.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.