Last day before spring break. Still under the weather, but gonna limp through the day anyway. And the kids will help me. They always do.

I was so proud of how hard they worked yesterday, despite my being at half-power. Kids will rise, higher than we sometimes imagine, and they’ll do it without our forcing it. We just have to trust them. I trust them implicitly. Choose to. Have to, for I seek their commitment, not their compliance. And that means I have to let go. And that is not always easy–well, was not easy at first, for it feels, looks, and sounds far different than the compliance-creating classroom. But it’s gotten easier. Heck, on some level, it feels as natural as breathing. And I attribute that to two things. Connections and feedback.

Humans in the Room

As those who are my regular readers know, I value kids over content. As I have said, and as I tell my kids, regarding our purpose for Smiles and Frowns, “There is nothing more important than the people in the room, so we start with the people in the room.” Every day. No exceptions. If we do nothing else, we will do Smiles and Frowns. It is the center of the universe in room 206. Of course, as I often share, I do many other things to connect and sustain human life in my room, things that neglect, even ignore, some of the elements that may be found in more traditional settings. It is the environment I choose to create, for I find it creates the necessary conditions for human growth. Kids will rise in such an environment.

Don’t Please Feed the Humans

When we provide nurturing environments, we create ideal conditions for growth, and this means we end up with hungry humans. So, we have to feed them. With their basic human needs provided for, kids are set to learn, are eager to grow. It, I believe, is natural for humans to learn. But, when we create artificial experiences for kids in environments that ignore or fail to address their most basic needs and we feed them a fast-food, empty-calorie diet, centered on covering content, we stunt their growth.

So what does the alternative look like? What experiences do we then provide for kids to rise? I am not going to suggest that I have found the answer, but I have found that the most nutritional diet we can give our learners is feedback. Of course, that is not my discovery and I certainly have not found all the perfect ingredients yet, but with each batch, I get closer to building a recipe that kids readily eat. Such experimentation has led me to restrict nearly all experiences to feedback-creating opportunities. If it does not lead to a “meal,” then we don’t do it, and if it doesn’t result in kids being able to come back for seconds, even thirds (retakes), then what’s the point? If a kid cannot apply her new learning via feedback to another shot, are we really letting her learn? I don’t believe so. So, I give it the time. Does that result in covering less content? Unavoidably. Does it lead to more growth? How could it not? And that’s what I seek. Growth. My little humans, reaching, rising, in an environment built just for them.

Yesterday, they rose–without me. And when that happens, it gives me hope that when our tomorrows eventually carry them away, they will continue to rise.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…wrapping up essay drafts.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all. No posts during spring break next week. Have a great weekend. Thank you for being here.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.