Hated to do it. Had to do it. What’s done is done. No going back now. Have to own it.

I stole. From my kids. In broad daylight. Witnesses everywhere. Won’t get out of this one. I am guilty. No trial necessary. I submit.

I took a day. I robbed my kids of their read-to-learn day. Today. Friday. I promised that Fridays would be reading days, but yesterday I informed the kids that I would have to go back on that promise, that I would have to use the day for something else. And so, regretfully, I pulled the plug, reading day down the drain. Let me explain.

Time doesn’t wait. And as the first third of the year will soon be behind us, I am beginning to feel the widening gap, as it marches ahead of us, immune to fatigue, steady and unrelenting, the tortoise in the race. So, it stands, then, that the hare, assuredly fast but not always wise, will use a cheap trick to stay in the race. Some day the hare will learn. But today is not that day.

Today, we will leap headlong into our My-Moment-to-Make-a-Difference speeches. In their own ways kids will confront an injustice, using the power of their words and the strength of their ideas to right a wrong. And though I tried to keep them in suspense, they would not have it. They cajoled me into telling them what could possibly be more important than their promised day. So, I let the cat out of the bag, and told them that I needed to introduce their speech projects. As one might imagine, this did little to settle their feelings of betrayal. In fact, it was salt on the wound. Public speaking settles no one.

And to that point, their tummies turned and the groans began. It was nothing new. I’ve heard it all before. I have heard it for years. I heard it last year when I introduced the same project, a project that–if you remember–earned top ranking as producing the most-satisfying moments of my twenty-year career. And while I have the same high hopes again this year, there is a huge difference. There is no grade to dangle. As such, this stands to be the toughest test yet for 180.

Last year it was a required opportunity. This year it is simply a provided opportunity. But that is the essence of the 180 classroom: opportunity, and I will not waver. I can’t. And so, with a great deal of trepidation, I will present that which strikes fear into the majority of the population, a public-speaking opportunity. Opportunity. “Thank you for the opportunity to speak in front of people,” said no one ever. And the kids will not likely thank me today either.  Of course, they don’t really have to do it. I can’t make them. I won’t make them. And I will tell them as much. I provide opportunities. They make choices. And while I am honestly worried about their choices, I am also incredibly eager to see  the outcome of this formidable challenge to the 180 approach. What will they choose?

For those who do choose the opportunity, they choose a path not easy. Public speaking is feared for a reason. It is hard, but hard is not impossible. Hard is a key ingredient to growth. I am pleased to provide such an important growth opportunity. The kids deserve no less.

Happy Friday, all.

There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest. –Elie Wiesel, from “Hope, Despair and Memory”

Enter the Holocaust. Our journey in 211 enters a darker realm today. For the next several weeks we will trek through the horror that was, the horror that can be neither easily nor fully imagined, the horror that must, as Elie would suggest, never be forgotten. And while it will be a trip neither pleasant nor easy, we will endure it; we will honor the call; we will remember. But we will also do more. We will learn that we, too, with our own words can make a difference.

Guided by the question, “Confronting Injustice: Can We Make a Difference?” the kids will select and confront an injustice for their Confronting-Injustice-and-Making-a-Difference speeches. Through our discussions, we have generally concluded that while we cannot always prevent injustice, we cannot just ignore it either. We have to take a stand. We have to have to believe that we can make a difference in our world. Perhaps now, more than ever, we need this generation to believe in the power of their potential. I just hope I can help them discover the power they possess. It is not enough that I believe. They must believe.

Yesterday, our first steps began with reading Elie’s Nobel acceptance speech for Night in 1986. Gone now, dying just this past year, Elie’s words are perhaps more powerful than ever, an agelessly relevant reminder that we must remain ever-vigilant against that which threatens our humanity.

None of us is in a position to eliminate war, but we must expose it and denounce it in all its hideousness. War leaves no victors, only victims. Mankind needs to remember this more than ever. Mankind needs peace more than ever,for our entire planet, threatened by nuclear war, is in danger of total destruction. A destruction only man can provoke, only man can prevent. Mankind needs to remember that peace is not God’s gift to his creatures, it is our gift to each other.

This was delivered in ’86 when the Cold War was still hot, a time when I was young and worried–truly worried–about the next big war, maybe literally, “the war to end all wars.” And now, thirty years later, Elie’s words seem no less relevant, the world no less scary. We have to read Night. We have to remember. We have to remember that the morning, to spite the night, can still come. Even if the days are dark ahead, if we remember, we can find the light, discover the day. Darkness must not descend.

Okay, enough of that. Sorry for the melodramatic doom and gloom, but this stuff is important, and lately it’s felt all too real. I worry more than I care to admit about the world we’re leaving our kids. And I suspect that I am not alone. But maybe if we can get them to discover and believe in things greater yet, they can be the difference. I aim to try.

Let’s try to be happy Thursday, all. The sun’s about to rise. Day triumphs again.

Despite a rough start, turns out yesterday wasn’t Monday in disguise after all; it was a Terrific Tuesday–for many reasons. I will offer ten, ten random wonders that brought joy to my day. I truly have so much to be grateful for.

Terrific Ten

1.  My morning commute with my son Finn. He has recently taken up the bass guitar and joined the CMS jazz band. Their practice is before school, so I, the early bird, gets the pleasure of dropping him off each day. It’s only a 7 minute drive, but it’s our time to catch up. Our latest discussions have entered the realm of girls, Finn wondering aloud about the confusion of liking someone with so many things to consider, mostly the weight of looks and personality. Oh, Finny, welcome to awful age of adolescence. Wish I could say it gets easier.

2. Catching up with Kasia. Kids’ lockers are tiny at CHS. So, they drop their bags off in teachers’ classrooms each morning, picking them up at the end of the day. Incidentally, my room has become Kasia’s preferred drop off. A student from last year and a creator of two movies that I shared with you, Kasia often engages me with questions about how the “A thing” is going this year. Yesterday, the “Re-Opp” sign up caught her attention, and she asked about it, and it gave me the opportunity to gush a little about the success of 180 so far. Thanks for always checking in, Kas.

3. No contract in my box. Yesterday, the district distributed the “additional-duty” contracts to teachers who fill a variety of positions from club advisers to department chairs. It is the first time in my 14 years at CHS that I have not taken on additional duties. I made that tough decision last spring when I committed to P-180, and it has been one of my best professional decisions ever. Yes, less money. But, more importantly, way less stress.

4. Windows. There were moments yesterday when I purposefully paused and marveled at the fall beauty. Such a gorgeous day. Having taught in the dungeon for 13 years, it has been nice to have an exterior room with a view and natural light. Improved mood indeed!

5. Lunch crew. Though we love all our little critters dearly, we also need breaks from them, It’s a quick 30 minutes, but I value the adult time I get with my peeps each day at lunch. Thank you Ms. Tamura, Ms. Alderete, Mr. Martin, and Ms. Comi. You all brighten my day.

6. Caring Community. I am proud to live in a community that cares and answers the call when there is a need. Hungry kids daily raid my “pantry,” a service that I could not provide without the help of all who have contributed and continue to contribute to the cause. Thank you a million times. You are making a huge difference for kids. I think of you all each time a kid gets food, which means, I think of you a lot. Thank you.

7. Rides home with Sissy. The other book end. My daughter delights me daily with her stories about her day. Yesterday, she read an actual story to me that she had written in class. As a fellow writer, I smile at her voice and expression in her writing. She wants to be writer. She already is.

8. Jack bounced back. Yesterday, I told the story of Jack flashing me a one, revealing his progress in class the day before. And I also mentioned my mild admonishment to his revelation. Well, yesterday he threw me a two, a legitimate two (I checked). He did not set the world afire with his efforts, but he improved, and I can be happy with that. Thank you, Collin (I mean “Jack”).

9. Necessarily unnecessary. So, I go potty between every period. Consequently, I am a wee bit late each period. But the kids know what to do, so they are usually ready to go as I slip into the room, quietly apologizing for my tardiness. Yesterday was no different, but unbeknownst to me, Mr. Roberts, assistant principal and my new evaluator for the year, was there to do an observation. As I walked in–late, he was sitting among the kids engaging them in conversations about their blogs. Most of them, he told me, had begun working before the bell, and they were all working at the bell. Guess they don’t need me. Pretty motivated for kids who already have A’s.

10. Dinner in the mic. Our weeks are busy, in many respects, too busy, but we manage. Monday and Tuesday are especially busy with my teaching at the college in the evening. Even so, my lovely wife, despite her own crazy schedule, found time to make dinner and leave it for me in the microwave. It was a perfect end to a perfect day. Thanks, Sher. Couldn’t do it without ya.

Pretty lucky guy, me. Happy Wednesday, all. Sorry for the not-so-substantive post this morning. Have a great day.

Morning, all. Feels like it might be Monday again. Slept in till 4:30. Had trouble getting the graphic to post.  Might be in for a long day.

So, I came across another graphic that aptly represents the journey in the 180 classroom. Of course the goal is to get all across the divide, landing each safely in the land of the “Learner-Driven,” but the divide is wide, the ditch deep, the rut resistant to such ambitious whims as that. So, then, what? Well, that depends. Some days the gap gapes wider than the vision of my dreams, allowing doubt to cloud the road ahead. Other days, I stand firmly resolved in achieving that which must be, the goal seeming but a step away, the far edge near, my stride long, my strut secure. Yesterday, was both days.

A cloud on the horizon. So, the kids are working on their blogs for their My-Learning Projects. Aside from some initial direction to begin their day and some assistance along the way, they have both the freedom and responsibility to drive their learning. I intentionally step back. I have to, but it is not easy. I want to be at the center. I want to swoop in and drive them when they are sitting idle, their cars in park. I want to move the stick to D and make them go. Time, after all, is moving, and they aren’t. Opportunity stands not still. And, I do, to some degree, remind them of this, using my “influence” to move them ahead. To be fair, many are cruising along, their learning vehicles  moving full speed ahead. But some aren’t. And that’s not easy to swallow. Even more, some seem okay to idle in neutral.

At the end of each period yesterday, I had kids show on their fingers how productive they were. 3 productive. 2 somewhat. 1 not very. Jack (name changed) flashed me a one. I, disappointed, mildly rebuked him, and he just shrugged and smiled. He was not being insolent. He was just being honest. And that unnerves and unsettles me. And it makes me doubt. Am I screwing up? Would he be better off in a Teacher-Driven environment? Is this Learner-Driven stuff a pipe dream? I don’t know. And so I doubt, and my doubt troubles my days and nights. But with each doubt, I discover hope.

The sun, despite the clouds, is always there. Yesterday, Mikkela, remembering that I had offered an optional Performance Re-Opportunity last Friday as another chance for them to demonstrate proficiency, asked me where she could sign up. Made my entire day. And others followed, driving their own learning, “willing to take risks and go the extra mile.” Thank you for reminding me that the sun never really goes away, even if it’s hidden from our view.

Happy Tuesday, all.

My early-morning routine generally begins with a cup of coffee and a quick cruise through Facebook, the news, and Twitter. And while I am catching up on the world big and small, in truth, I am frequently looking for inspiration for the morning’s post. It is not always easy to come up with ideas at 3:30 in the morning–every day, so I seek my muse and I often find her in the Twitterverse. The graphic above caught my eye, and since I really had nothing else on this early Monday morn, I grabbed it. Here it goes.

I’ve spoken before about influence and power, highlighting the differences, advancing the former as the banner, the beacon in the P-180 classroom. Power does not belong in the P-180 classroom. It necessarily leaves as soon as we hand the A’s to the kids. But influence doesn’t magically appear in the vacuum of power’s exit from the stage. Influence is not incidental. Influence is intentional. And intentional influence is at the center of success in the P-180 classroom.

It’s funny how sometimes we don’t know what we know until someone or something shows us what we know. For me, in this particular moment, that something was the above graphic. It’s as if Ms. Vora divined what was going on in my muddled mess of a mind, and she captured it–beautifully. Thank you, Tanmay. I don’t know you, but I feel like you know me, at least that which makes me tick.

Of course, I am not suggesting that I am the things that she highlights. But I am suggesting that I work at those things; I work hard at those things. To some degree, I believe I always have as a teacher, but now it’s not a novelty; it’s a necessity. I have to work at these things to keep 180 alive. And now that these things have finally taken form, I will work even harder–with even greater intention–to create the influence I need to change education–within and without. In the end, if I am honest, it won’t be enough  to change the world in 211. I want to influence others to make their own changes, to make better the worlds of our kids’ educational experiences, our kids’ journeys. You see, I believe we can change the world. One classroom at a time.

Happy Monday, friends.

Some words from the kids this week. They are the best. Such good companions on this journey. Lucky to be among them.

“Syrie, to be honest, your class takes so much stress off me, but I still feel like I’m learning more in this class than if there were a grade involved. Thank you! –Aidan

Aidan, I’m happy that this class and approach have helped relieve some stress for you. I am also happy to hear that you feel like you are learning.

“I think the Learning Log every 4 weeks will be a good idea.” –Layla

Layla, thank you for chiming in on the discussion about this topic. I value your input. See the next comment and response.

“This system is great, but one thing about our new idea to have Learning Logs every three weeks is a little counter-intuitive to the plan for having one a month. Due to the planning of it, we will only have one a month anyway, just at different times.” –Anonymous

Anonymous, good point. I had pretty much arrived at the same conclusion, and since I was already leaning towards every three weeks, and since it will still essentially be once per month, I think it will end up being a satisfactory solution for all. 

“I am happy to be in this class because I haven’t only learned about how to survive in school but also life. I feel like most of school only applies in the classroom, but this class will help me in everything that I do. We don’t get “grades” in life, we only get opportunities to be a better person. Thanks so much for the opportunity! –Anonymous

Anonymous, so happy that you have discovered the essence of the approach: opportunity. That is what it’s really all about in the classroom AND in life. Wise words, young friend.

“I really enjoy this class because it is super laid back and super fun. I love how we can learn and not be based on a letter grade. You are a wonderful teacher. Also, I want you to know that I like getting the EOW and the TOW on Friday and having it due the next. Thanks for everything, Sy.” –Hanne

Hanne, thank you for your feedback this week. Glad that you are enjoying the journey. So happy that I get to experience learning with you this year.

“Sy, I’m sorry that I haven’t gotten a lot of the work done. It’s just always buried under other classes’ work. I feel like for this system to work every teacher has to do it.” –Anonymous

Anonymous, no apologies necessary. Sorry that you find yourself buried by work. I wish, too, other teachers would, if not follow, at least re-evaluate their approach to grading, teaching, and learning. 

“Hey, Sy. I just want to first thank you for all the encouragement you give all of us for our work; whether we receive a 1 or a 3 on something, you still encourage us to keep going and keep pushing ourselves. I also want to say how great I think Project 180 is because you’re not only teaching us about Language Arts, you’re teaching us real-life lessons as well. You provide us with learning opportunities but don’t make us do them. Like you’ve said before, that puts us in charge of our learning, teaching us not only how to form a complex sentence but also teaching us self-discipline, and that, in reality, we’re in charge of our own learning and our own life. Thanks, Sy! –Anonymous

Anonymous, thank YOU. Thank you for taking responsibility for yourself in learning and in life. I am impressed and inspired by your wise words. You have discovered exactly what I hoped you would find on this journey. Excited to see how far we make it this year. Again, thank you. 

Happy Saturday, all.

This graphic caught my attention in the Twitterverse this morning, and while it doesn’t fit my thinking exactly, it’s pretty darn close, especially in the sense that learning is a circle, not a line. We have to give kids multiple opportunities to circle back to beginning, giving them not only another chance to prove proficiency, but also–maybe more importantly–another chance to apply new learning. This, I believe, is when growth occurs. But this takes time. Even more, it takes intentionality. The P-180 classroom relies on both.

Intentionality. This rests on the 10 Super-Student Standards, the year-long targets that provide the platform for all learning opportunities, both practice and performance. To be sure, the idea of power or focus standards is nothing new. But in a P-180 classroom, the difference might be in how they are used. In a 180 classroom, they are embedded and scaffolded, infused into all we do–ever present as they cycle, appearing again and again. The standards are selected with a full-view of the year ahead, guided not only by the Standards Du Jour (at present the Core) but also the experience and expertise of the classroom teacher. As I have said in the past, they are the 10 on which we will hang our hats at the end of the year, the 10 with which I, with confidence and evidence, will be able to say my kids have achieved proficiency.

And that is why learning has to be a circle. Thinking back over my years, where–regrettably–learning was more line than circle, I cannot say with much confidence that kids actually learned. Oh, they “learned” enough to get past the test, but I am not confident they “kept” that learning as we rushed into new content, covering as much as we could over the course of the year. Now with 180, I am focused on learning the content, not covering the content. And, yes, there will be some things that we do not get to, and that’s the cost, but there is always a cost. And that is where intentionality comes into play. I have been very intentional in my selection of standards, selecting what I believe will support the challenges that kids face not only now but also later. Of course, a part of being intentional is keeping track of one’s decisions, making sure he has made the right choices, which means I may have to make some changes along the way as I learn. But that fits, too. Do. Learn. Do Better.

Time. The P-180 classroom sets a slow pace. And this takes some getting used to. The problem with a slow pace is that it eats time, and I struggle with this. I worry more than I care to admit if I am taking too much time. I am conscious–very conscious–of the fact that 37 days in we have only had one assessment, and I frequently feel the urge to jump ahead as time disappears on the horizon. But I resist. I pause and reflect and find that while we are not passing by targets and tests like mileposts on a fast freeway, I have been able to provide a steady stream of feedback, way more feedback than I have ever provided at this point in any of my twenty years. And, then, I stop worrying. And, I also find a feeling, a feeling that I have never quite felt before, a feeling that my kids are learning, really learning, and that feels good, feels right. But I, maybe like my kids, have not reached a point where I fully trust my experiences with 180, and so I remain cautious; I remain hesitant to fully let go and trust my feelings. But with each passing day, it’s becoming easier to trust the path that lies ahead. I hope it’s getting easier for the kids, too.

Happy Friday, all.

“Man, I feel like someone cares about us.” –Julian, 2nd period

The new desks had arrived in the afternoon the day before, so it was fun to watch the kids’ reactions to the new desks as they walked into the room yesterday morning. To no one in particular, Julian, wiping his hands across the new, shiny desk top, bouncing his back against the new ergonomically-smart seat, shared aloud the above sentiment, smiling from ear to ear. Funny how things, even simple things, can brighten one’s day. Wish we could do more, Julian.

And finally, today, I will have the opportunity to hand back last week’s Performance Opportunity. Monday and Tuesday are devoted to My-Learning Projects, and yesterday the PSAT stole the day, so today is the day. As I have already shared, I was generally pleased with the outcome. I was especially pleased with the students who applied what they learned from the Practice Opportunity feedback.

I also mentioned earlier that while I was pleased with our progress, we still have a lot of learning to do. And that learning relies on two things. One is continued opportunity and feedback, which I will readily provide. The other is the kids’ mindsets as they move along with me. Much depends on their buying into the 180 approach and ultimately taking ownership of their learning. Many have begun to embrace it, but there remains a good number who still seem to be holding it at arm’s length, not fully trusting me or the experience. So, I will continue to work hard to earn their trust. Today, is an important step in that direction.  And it begins with how they respond to this latest round of feedback. Indeed, and as their performances yielded different results, I have narrowed it down to four result-response scenarios, and how I hope the kids respond.

1. The kids who met standard. This was a mixed bag of achieving with or without my feedback. And while this is the smallest group of the four, their responses to the Performance Opportunity results are no less important. They have to be careful about settling too comfortably into their success on this one opportunity, accepting my challenges to stretch themselves to the next level and continuing the practice.
2. The kids who stayed the same from the practice to the performance. Here the danger is disappointment and frustration. My worry for these kids is that because they did not experience immediate success from my feedback, they will not take to heart my encouragement, my advice that this stuff takes time and effort and that they need to be patient. I want them to understand that real learning is not about instant gratification. It’s about struggle, perseverance, and…attitude.
3. The kids who went down from the practice to the performance. A handful of kids actually were less successful on the performance than the practice. Their resilience will be put to the test today as they process the results and my feedback. What I hope they are able to internalize is that they made mistakes, and mistakes are learning opportunities. The vast majority of their mistakes are easily correctable. Mistakes lead to success. I want them to embrace them as such. Yeah, I know. Easier said than done. But I’ll say it until they believe it.
4. The kids who were way off the target. To a kid, this almost exclusively was a result of no practice and no feedback. I hope this serves as a reality check. Learning requires practice and feedback. Atop each paper, I wrote, “Please do the practice.” Not sure what else there is to say.

I will frame it as such when I give the kids the results today. I hope they receive it as I intend it. I hope. Trust is a tricky thing, but with this I have no tricks. I simply have a sincere desire to help my kids grow. Maybe, they’ll see that. If not, I will work even harder. Never been afraid of hard work.

Happy Thursday, all.

Desks. Got lucky. Happened to be in the right room at the right time. First new desks in my 20 year career. And while I am pleased to have some new shiny things in the room, they still pale in comparison to the bright stars who fill them every day. I just hope the kids find them more comfortable than the circa 1975, attached-chair affairs they’ve been sitting in. Glad we could finally step into the 21st century. Irritates me that education lags behind the times, but I am not really talking about desks. Those are small potatoes in the grand scheme. I can teach kids without desks. What I am really talking about is access to technology.

It’s becoming increasingly evident that if I am to adequately prepare kids for the future, let alone the present, then I–we–have to have immediate access to that which turns the world: technology. Whether we like it or not, tech is here. But, I often wonder if the American public really knows how largely absent it still remains in our schools.  Yes, we have computers. In fact, the LA department, has one cart of Chromebooks per grade level, which we utilize, but even then, we have to share, which roughly equates to two access days per week. As such, we find ourselves bouncing back and forth, reverting to “older” methods 3/5 of the week. Of course, older doesn’t necessarily mean bad. I don’t have to have computers to teach kids. But, older might mean not as good as it could or should be. The world outside education has changed significantly and drastically in a remarkably short amount of time, while the world inside education largely remains in a time capsule, a nostalgic nest of antiquity. The greatest nation in the world should have the greatest educational system in the world. Maybe tonight, instead of emails and hot-mic comments, our to-be leaders can find time to talk about things that really matter. Education matters. Or maybe it’s.  Education matters? Sorry. Rant over.

Disappointment. Got a “Dear Monte” letter yesterday. Sadly, the WSASCD, due to low attendance numbers, had to cancel the east side Washington Teachers’ Conference. So, I won’t get an opportunity to share Project 180 after all. Truly a missed opportunity, but there will be others. Still, disappointing, though. Darn it.

Disruption. A necessary disruption, but a disruption nonetheless. CHS  is hosting the PSAT today, and nearly all my kids will be taking it all morning, so I will be “studentless.”  And while I hate the delay, I support this important opportunity for kids to get a glimpse of what the SAT will be like. For most, it will be the hardest test they have ever taken, but they will get some valuable feedback from the experience, so I can’t really complain too much. Still, it will be awfully quiet in 211 this morning.

Happy Wednesday, all. Sorry for the uninspiring post this morning. Sorry, too, for the politics.

Turns out I’m neither the only nor always the best resource in the room. Yesterday I was served up a humble reminder of this truth.

As I rolled out the plan for creating our blogs for the My Learning Projects, it became quite evident–quite quickly–that the maestro needed to take a seat and let the band play. Following what I thought were not only painstakingly explicit but also absolutely necessary instructions for the successful creation of our blogs, I carefully led the kids down the path only to discover that they were already there by the time I arrived.  So, I ditched the plans and let them lead. Oh, I still had to point here and there a bit, but by and large, they were navigating in their world, moving through the they’ve-never-not-known-a-world-without-technology territory, and I so let loose the reins, giving them their heads, and they went, free and unencumbered, stretching their legs, galloping forth, free in their confidence. I sat by.

And whether out of habit, duty, or just a desire to be part, I tried to remain relevant, seeking to help where I could. But even then as I fumbled around the room trying to help kids with their “Welcome” and “About” pages, it continued to be clear that I was not the best resource in the room. Indeed, for time after time, the kids, bemused by my sincere, but not-so-brilliant efforts, kindly–if not always patiently–told me, “We got you, Sy,” as they took over, helping their peers post pictures, etc. And so, I let go, and instead of playing the role of helper, I learned to play the part of help finder.  And even this was short lived, as the kids started responding on their own to raised hands and calls for help. So, I went to my desk and performed clerical duties, but I watched, not to monitor and manage, but to marvel at my young learners spreading their wings, flying unassisted, soaring into their learning.  It was a privilege to witness. It was a privilege to know that they “got me” when I need it. A privilege. Best. Job. In. The. World.

Happy Tuesday, all. We continue our exploration of the blogosphere today. Looks like I’ll get some paperwork done.