One thing that motivates me is when the teacher is actually interested in what they are talking about. When they are having fun with what they are talking about, it gets me excited about the topic as well. When I am excited about whatever it is the teacher is talking about, then yes I am motivated by it. If the teacher starts talking like the teachers in Charlie Brown, that’s when I’m ready to go home. I will still do the assignment, but only because I have to, not because I want to, or am motivated to.

Nika Kauwe, Sophomore, Cheney High School

http://www.letschangeeducation.com/?p=120

What’s up with the Superman symbol?  Is he your favorite superhero or something?  How many Superman shirts do you own? Why do you include the logo at the bottom of each of your posts? I’m sure there are other questions as well, but these are never spoken, at least not directly to me.  Does he think he’s Superman?  Is he really that self-absorbed.  I encounter these questions–both explicitly and implicitly–all the time, and I don’t always have or share a ready answer.  It’s kinda hard to explain.

It began simply enough. In my second year of teaching at Royal Middle School two of my students, Annie Meseberg and Kayla Robbins, asked for help, and I whimsically replied, hands on hips, “Super Syrie’s here to save the day!” And it stuck. For better or worse, sometimes only in my own mind, I became Super Syrie, a classroom superman ready to help students in a single bound.  Clad, then, in cape, I continued my career assuming a persona that hasn’t always been a blessing, for super heroes are held to high standards, the highest perhaps being the ones that they set for themselves.  I have not always met the standard.

By luck or design, Super Syrie followed me to Cheney in 2003.  I wondered for a time if he would fade into the sunset after I left Royal, perhaps secretly hoping I could escape the cape’s pressure and just be Simple Syrie, but my students at Cheney, just as my students at Royal, needed help and Super stayed.  The cape wasn’t going anywhere.

You see, it’s not that I think I am Superman, it’s that I believe I have to be Superman. I have to be super.  I cannot be any less.  The job is too important, the stakes too high.  I have to be super for the kids, even when I don’t want to be.  Yes, some days, many days, I want only to be Simple Syrie and leave the cape at home, for I don’t really have any superpowers and the facade is heavy at times. But every day, ready or not, I show up for duty and try to be super.  The shirts?  I have 10, last count.  Why do I wear them?  I wear them on the days that I don’t want to be super, so I put them on to remind me that I have to be.  The same with the logo at the bottom of my posts.  A reminder not of who I am, but rather who I am trying to be.

Fortunately, I am not alone.  I am surrounded by super men and super women who, too, don their capes each day as they set out to save the world, even when they don’t want to. And I believe, together, perhaps one day we will save the world.  We have to.

So that’s it.  In the end, that’s why. It’s not to air my arrogance. Really, it’s to shield my insecurity.

Have a super Friday, all.  I have a shirt to pick out.

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Letting go.  Last night I responded to a comment (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/?p=83) from Alexsandra Harris, a former student teacher who is now in her first year of teaching up in Alaska.  She, too, is exploring independent learning projects with her students, and she was curious about whether the procrastination would eventually subside, resulting in kids not waiting until the last minute.  I essentially told her probably not, and while that may not be the ideal reality, I have come to accept that it’s the real reality.  I am learning to let go.  I have to.  It’s their project, and with their autonomy comes their responsibility.  And even though I know this, I preach this, it is hard to let go.

I also responded to Cheney grad, now first year kindergarten teacher, Amanda Bahrenburg’s comment (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/?p=204) last night regarding the role of mistakes in learning, and while I was responding, I was struck by and am still this morning thrilled by the fact that she is instilling this growth mindset in those so young.  And this, too, on some level requires letting go. But it’s not always easy for we teachers can be susceptible to the default setting of being fixers instead of supporters when kids struggle.  And though fixing is efficient in the short term, it is not always effective in the long term, often times creating learned helplessness among our kids.  Kids have to struggle.  It’s how they learn.  And that means we have to let them.  We have to let go.  I am thrilled and thankful that Amanda has already discovered the courage and wisdom to let her youngsters love their mistakes.

In class yesterday, I practiced letting go.  I did different by giving my students the autonomy to decide as to whether to take notes or not.  Now to be fair, their autonomy here is somewhat influenced by my offering a carrot–the ability to use notes on assessments, so sense dictates direction, and most take notes.  But Josh didn’t.  And immediately, not entirely comfortable with his autonomy, I swooped in to “fix” the situation.  Hey, it’s tough to let go.  I inquired about his choice.  And he indicated that he never used his notebook on assessments anyway, so he was opting out, not out of laziness or spite, for he always does well. And now I realize that on his own level, in his own way, Josh was letting go.  The notes had always been there in the past, a crutch if necessary, but now out of what I hope is confidence, he has exercised his autonomy, and he will face the next assessment on his own.  And in Josh’s courage, I find courage, courage to let go.

Still, courage or no, I will no doubt falter at times and swoop in for the fix, for I am not sure I can ever completely let go.  My mom taught me this.  All of our parents taught us this.  And though there were times more pronounced than others when we wanted our parents to let go, we never wanted them to fully let go, and for me, that’s still true at 44.

My mom, on most days, is probably the first to read my blog.  She is, as I might have said at 16, “in my business.”  In my December 17 post I had omitted a word and Mom swooped in to fix it, calling me and leaving multiple messages–she still doesn’t realize that I can see missed calls and she doesn’t always have to leave a message telling me she called.  Worried it was an emergency, I called her back, only to discover that I needed to fix my blog.  Oh, mom.  Still can’t let go, can you?  Even now, at 44 with a job and family of my own, you have to be there.  Well, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I don’t want you to let go, not entirely.  And I suspect on some level, as I, too, have discovered as a parent, you can’t.

And so, maybe, it’s the same in the classroom.  I have to let go for their sake, but for my sake, I hope they never allow me to fully let go.  It’s both thrilling and frightening for me to have Josh go it alone.  He’s growing; he’s learning.  I just hope that he still needs me.  It’s tough to let go.

Do. Learn. Do Better.  As some know, I am also an adjunct professor in the education department at Eastern Washington University, and last night I started the quarter with a group of new teacher candidates just entering the education program.  I teach secondary classroom management.  This is my fourth year with Eastern, and though I was initially reluctant to take on this role, for I wear many hats, it has been an incredibly rewarding experience, both humbling and inspiring.

As with every quarter, after the students introduce themselves, I begin by introducing myself, sharing my background and experience, apologizing that I am only a high school teacher, not a full-fledged university professor.  That done, I then frame the course by sharing with them what I hope they get out of the class.

What I hope you get out of this class.

• I hope you gain a better understanding of who you are and who you want to be as a teacher.
• I hope you benefit from my 20 years of being in the classroom.
• I hope you understand that there are many ways to do things, and it is your job to find your way.
• I hope you establish a strong philosophical foundation regarding your beliefs, convictions, and ideals about education.
• I hope you develop solid, practical procedures that will help you become an effective teacher.
• I hope you worry less about your grade and more about your learning.
• I hope you understand that you will not leave here experts on classroom management, for I can only give you tools, not experience, and experience is king.  You will truly begin learning the art and science of management during your student teaching.  Be patient and realistic.
• I hope you embrace the power and importance of relationships in the classroom.
• I hope you expect and accept that teaching requires reflection.  Do. Learn. Do better.

 

At this point, I place particular importance on the last bullet, telling them that–more out of necessity than clarity–I adopted this mantra early on in my career, and now at year twenty I still mutter it daily–sometimes several times–as I make mistakes throughout my day and learn.  In fact, I share with them that a full tally would reveal that my failures outnumber my successes. And while I might not have readily admitted that early in my career, for fear of revealing any failure, I now proudly reveal my losing record, embracing my mistakes not as a sign of failing but rather a sign of learning.  I do this to set my students’ minds at ease, to set them up for failure, which I know sounds awful, but I also attempt to arm them with the power of reflection.  And I have found the two–mistakes and reflection–to be key ingredients for my success, a simple recipe with no secret ingredients, a recipe that I certainly did not create but stumbled upon, a recipe that many veteran teachers follow and must pass along to those who are new to the profession.

As I drove home last night, reflecting on successes and failures in the classroom, I began thinking about my blog, and I began worrying about my audience’s perception of me, fearing that I may come across as one who has it all figured out.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  I don’t have it all figured out.  I am just trying to figure it out, but I’ve come to realize that there is little hope or purpose to figuring it out alone, and that is why I have started this blog. That is why I want you to join the conversation, an honest, share-the-good-the-bad-and-the-ugly conversation about how we can make education better.  Let’s do.  Let’s Learn.  Let’s do better.  Let’s change education.

Have a great day, all.  I have to get ready to go and make my mistakes for the day.  

Good morning, all. Somehow I lost my post in cyberspace this morning. Now I’m out of time to rewrite it, so there will be no Morning Minutes today. Sorry. Dang it.

Good morning, all.  So, it’s officially begun, a journey to better education in anyway that I can for the next twenty years. Not satisfied with what I accomplished in my first twenty, I am newly committed and energized to help change the narrative on public education, helping it evolve to better deliver the promise of hope and opportunity to the young who inhabit a new, ever-changing world.  And, so, as with any journey, it begins with a step.  This is my first step.  And while the journey will no doubt be lonely at times, I take comfort in knowing that some will join me along the way as I cross paths with those who too share a passion for improving education.  I am eager to encounter and share your company somewhere down the road.

Today, my journey takes me back to room 219, where we will begin to change the landscape of learning.  And though I want to change it all now–right now, I will exercise patience and be sure to enjoy each new vista along the way.  And, so, we will begin with a conversation about where we want to go next, and how we want to get there.  I talked a lot last month about putting kids in the driver’s seat, and today I will ensure that my walk matches my talk as I ask the kids to decide (student choice) where we will go with our next independent learning project.  Today, I will walk the walk. Today, I will do different. Today, I will change education.

My friend and colleague Steve Arensmeyer sent me this link from the Washington Post (https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/answer-sheet/wp/2015/11/03/a-venture-capitalist-searches-for-the-purpose-of-school-heres-what-he-found/), and I wanted to share it with you.  It resonated with me, especially as I struggle with finding the courage to do different on a grander scale with my students.  And while I want to go “all in” and make the break–TOMORROW, I will wait and trust that I cannot expect that I will arrive at my destination  a few days in on this next leg of my forty-year journey.  One step at a time.  I will leave you with the final two paragraphs of the article. Join the conversation.  Your words matter.

“So back to that purpose question. Maybe, in the end, the purpose of school is to help our kids find their own sense of purpose. To prepare them for a life where they can set, and achieve, their own goals, not grind away to meet the needs of some bureaucrat or college admissions officer. Given decades of damage from our testing and accountability strategy, maybe it’s time to place our bets on a strategy that puts its weight behind engaging and inspiring our kids . . . and teachers. Imagine what our country is capable of if we figure out how to launch millions of purpose-driven kids into society prepared and energized to their world better through their talents, passions, developing skills, and ability to learn. Kids that are, truly, prepared for life.

Oh, and as for me, I’ve come full circle. As I reflect back on my past, I was pretty much a hoop jumper. Now, I wake up each morning with conviction. I’m trying things I never would have tried, learning about areas I never paid attention to, making more mistakes in a week than I used to make in a year, and risking failure in a visible way. I’m working much harder than I ever did as a venture capitalist, watching my bank account shrink, traveling non-stop, and not even pausing to ask whether it’s fun or not. In searching for the purpose of school, I found my own.”

–Ted Dentsmith

 

Change Challenge: This month emphasize student choice in your lesson and unit design.

Teachers, on some level, I think we all understand that providing student choice can be a powerful motivator in the classroom.  But I think, too, we understand the challenge of making that happen within our aligned, crowded, hurried curricula, and consequently, I think we convince ourselves that it’s not feasible, and we either don’t do it enough or we avoid it altogether.  And, unfortunately, it’s through this school-centered thinking that we limit not only real opportunity but also real motivation for our students.  That said, let’s challenge our conventional wisdom and do different.

Accept the challenge by responding to this post, indicating who you are and what you teach. Then, by the end of the month, share a story of a success or a challenge you experienced in your efforts to do different and offer student choice in your classroom.  Those who post a story will be considered for our January “Change Champion,” having his or her story highlighted on our site next month (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/?page_id=104).  Join the conversation.  Your words matter.

Resources and additional information on student choice.

http://www.ohiorc.org/orc_documents/orc/adlit/inperspective/2010-03/in_perspective_2010-03.pdf

http://www.edutopia.org/blog/student-choice-leads-to-voice-joshua-block

Daniel Pink’s intriguing case for why intrinsic factors, not extrinsic factors, are what really motivate us.  Though he presents it in the context of the business world, there are striking parallels to the education world.  In the first twelve minutes he establishes what we know–but surprisingly fail to heed–about the limits and/or failures of extrinsic motivation. In the last six minutes–where I truly became intrigued about the possibilities in my classroom–he presents the promise of intrinsic motivation in the form of three principles: autonomy, mastery, and purpose. In this piece, he highlights autonomy, and this in particular has been my inspiration for the independent learning projects I have begun with my students, through which my goal is to first give them autonomy as a means for them to then achieve greater mastery and deeper purpose.  In short, my drive for doing different here is to find ways to more authentically engage my students in the learning opportunities in my classroom.  So far we have learned a lot, and I’m eager to see how much more we will learn about learning over the months to come.  Tune in and join the conversation (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/?p=57).  Your words matter.