My kids will get a choice today. Read the short story, “By Any Other Name,” or listen to the short story, “By Any Other Name.” But first I will ask them to respond to the following questions before and after they “read.”

Before

How are reading a story and listening to a story different? How are they the same?

Agree or Disagree. Listening to a story is “cheating.”

After

Did you read the story or listen to the story? Why?

Text link

https://www.cusd80.com/cms/lib/AZ01001175/Centricity/Domain/2112/Unit_2-136-141.pdf

Audio link

https://youtu.be/TC7AAYW-7E8

I have no illusions. Most of my kids will select the audio. And why wouldn’t they? I suspect many adults–some even English teachers–would do the same. It’s easier. In some regards, it’s more engaging. Contrary to popular English teacher belief, many kids do not have a vivid movie playing in their heads while reading. I still remember how stunned I was to discover this as a young teacher when I naively thought we all shared in the textual gratification of a book. We do not. Would it were true, but it’s not. And so, in the true lack of sameness, it seems fair, then, to offer differentness in the form of a choice.

But doesn’t that sully the literary experience? Isn’t that borderline blasphemy or at least malpractice as an English teacher? I don’t know. Maybe. Figure I’ll take that up with my maker when the time comes. But for now, I am meeting my kids where they are, and the only way to assure the authenticity of that meet is to offer them the choice. In truth, most of them know how to find the audio/video options out there anyway, so I’d rather we meet in the reality that there are choices, that there will always be choices, instead of pretending that text is the only and best choice. More, I would rather we acknowledge and face the reality that without the option many kids wouldn’t read it anyway. Here they have a choice, and though it may not live up to the ideals of the literary experience, it may well better achieve the goal of getting kids to engage in stories from the human experience. It’s the story that matters. By any name.

Happy Tuesday, all. Hope everyone is well.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

She turned it in.

Funny how such a simple act can make our day. We have checked on her, we have talked to her, we have reminded her, and checked on her again, and then, when maybe we fear she’ll never turn it in, there it is. She turned it in.

In truth, I had given up, wondering if I was going to get any work from her. And just as I had begun to reconcile this reality, imagining things were too far beyond for her, for me, she turned it in. And though I am proud of her, I am admittedly a little abashed at myself, for giving up so soon. But, and maybe I am just rationalizing here, in doing so, maybe I gave her the room she needed. Maybe that’s what finally compelled her. Maybe it wasn’t my check-ins. Maybe it was her. Maybe she planned on doing it all along, but she just hadn’t found the time or space (I’ve seen her at-home situation via Zoom) to finally get to it. I don’t know. But she got to it. She turned it in. And she has made my Monday morning.

And I am going to be sure she knows. I can’t wait to let her know how proud I am of her.

Happy Monday, all. Hope your week starts of well.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I mean, I had to. What else could I do, would I do, should I do? Their situation called for it. I had to make the deal. So, I did.

No stranger to making deals with kids, I have found myself making a fair number of them in recent days as not only the challenges of distance learning but also the challenges of kids’ lives surface during this strange time. And just as no kid’s learning is the same, no kid’s life is the same, so in the difference, I make the deal.

Some of the differences I discover are common and expected, others are unexpected and uncommon. And some…well, they are downright heartbreaking. But big or small, common or uncommon, differences drive decision, which decide the deal.

Once upon a classroom, I dealt in the notion that if it wasn’t equal, then it wasn’t fair. So, I listened to this “logic.” But as I learned, I came to listen better, and I heard not what I expected to hear, what I wanted to hear, but rather what they were actually saying when they came to me with their differences. And I quit the “same game.” I learned to deal with different.

I can’t change the cards the kids come to me with. But I can give them a few fresh cards from my deck, so they may better their hands.

A bum deal? I don’t think so. Have I made some mistakes? Of course. Have I been “taken advantage of?” Probably. But my gut tells me that’s not enough to fold. My guts tells me to go all in for each. And so, I do. I make the deal.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I suppose I did the same when we were in person. It’s likely, but I don’t really remember. I had been doing the same thing for so long, I am not sure I was conscious of it. But now, I am certainly conscious of the deep breath I take each day before clicking, “start meeting” on Zoom. It’s go time.

And though it was no less “go time” before with thirty live kids in front of me, it’s a different go time now. I don’t know the game. I am not sure that I can. I am not sure that I will. And so maybe that’s the big in the breath I take each day as I step onto the court, playing as if the title was on the line, only to discover I forgot to tie my shoes, tripping on my laces.

Okay, that’s a little hyperbolic and melodramatic. But there is the breath, that much is true. And though the title may not be on the line, there is much on the line, for I have to “play more positions” than I ever have to serve and support kids. It’s game day, every day. It’s go time, like the world depended on it…and, here I go again with the hype, but much does depend on my “game” as I daily check my laces one last time before facing kids whom I have never met, in an awkward arena, where someone forgot to turn on the lights.

No shoe deals. No cheerleaders. No highlight reels. Just a teacher and his love for the game, playing as if it mattered.

And the same game is being played out in arenas all over–teachers taking one last big breath, checking their laces one last time before stepping onto the court.

It’s go time.

Happy Thursday, all. Thank you for playing like it matters. It does.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I suppose it’s become as much an invitation as an expectation. I expect my kids to discover better. I invite them to discover better. So, together, we can discover better.

In my Day 5 post “Seeking Simple” (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/seeking-simple-project-180-day-5/) I shared this graphic to illustrate my approach to teaching and learning this year.

And simple doesn’t end here. I attempt to continue to simplify our experience–not to make it easy, but to make it sensible. I want the process from the introduction of the tASK to the score reported on their record in Skyward to make sense–to them, to me, to their parents. This is how I do it.

As I have shared before, I don’t consider Skyward my “grade book.” I consider it a tool to record learning experiences from my class. How is that different from a grade book? Well, I also offer to my kids and parents that a “grade” doesn’t exist until the end of the term, when kids and I come together as they select and support a grade from their record, their “learning story.” Yes, there is a “percentage” in Skyward but it is simply a metric to catch attention, a temperature reading of sorts. For instance, if a lower percentage is currently registering in the record, that is an invitation to better. It is an invitation to revise based on feedback and resubmit–sometimes multiple times–until the record is righted.

In the record, kids get one of three scores. 1 = Satisfactory Completion (I am satisfied with their work based on the provided success criteria). .7 = Incomplete (the experience is incomplete, there are opportunities for better). 0 = Missing (I can’t invite or help them to better until I know where we start from). Why the .7? Good question. I have used different numbers in the past, and despite my intentions and earnest efforts to mitigate the effect of the percentage that shows up on Skyward, kids and parents are sensitized to this, and when they see a low percentage, they “freak out.” So, this year, I am offering a .7 as a middle ground. It’s enough to catch attention but not so much to cause an unnecessary panic. It’s communication. It’s an invitation to better.

And that’s how I am trying to reconcile the mess that happens when learning has to become grading. The best way to do it? Of course not, but I think for now it’s a better way until a discover a better way.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Okay, all. I tried. Been sitting here patiently waiting for my muse to show up, but I guess she’s sleeping in. Been waiting for her since 4:30. Gave her 15 minutes and a cup of coffee, but she ain’t showing.

And while she’s a no-show, I have a million other things to do to get ready for my day, so I am gonna take her absence as my cue to take my energy and effort elsewhere. Dang her. She always wins at this game. But at least, she gives me someone to blame.

Sorry, everyone. She usually shows up the next day. I’ll have something for you then. See ya tomorrow.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

The devil. The details. Must be the devil, for I have never dealt with so many details in my career. Preparing online, distance-learning experiences for kids takes an incredible amount of time. And it’s the details. So many details.

Does there have to be? I don’t know. But it’s the not knowing that compels me to consider, and the worry of not doing enough drives me to do too much. In fact, I have so many more details to climb this morning, that I probably shouldn’t be here talking about the “details.”

Since before 4:00 AM, I have been working on preparing an introduction/practice experience for Claim, Cite, Clarify (CCC) that includes practice with detailed instructions and no examples, practice with detailed instructions and examples, and later I will make a Screescastify to go over the details of the differentiated details, and still, I am left wondering, worrying that I will not have done enough. As if the details weren’t enough, I have to deal with the differentiation devil, too.

It is a long short road to madness, I think. But I don’t know the way around. So I will keep dancing with the devil. In fact, my partner is calling. I have details to sort out. The dance goes on.

Happy Monday, all. I know I am not alone in this. May you find your feet as you put on your dancing shoes this morning. Thank you for all the steps you take for kids.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Missed their noise yesterday. Told them so. Asked them to make some noise for me. And they did to a degree. I am not sure they trusted my sincerity. Today, I will again make the plea. Please, make some noise for me.

A lot is different at a distance. I can’t see them. I can’t hear them. I can’t read them. Oh, they are there. Most turn their video on. All but a shy few unmute when asked (my quiet ones respond in the chat). But it’s not the same. Not even close. And yesterday I missed it. I missed them. And so I asked them to help me. I asked them to make some noise. I needed to know they were there–across the divide.

Beyond that, it’s really been a good week. I feel like we are finding our groove. No it’s not the same as it would be f2f, but we are finding “us” in all of this. We are going to be okay–as long as we turn up the volume, now and again, as we make our way.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend. See ya back here on Monday.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

“Get a cup of water.”

This was part of our lesson plan yesterday. Some already had it at their desks with them. Others had to run to the kitchen or wherever to get something to drink…well, to hold. I held my coffee.

Then we watched this video clip.

And then we watched this video that I made on Screencastify. Well, my self-paced kiddos watched it. I just spoke it to my teacher-paced kiddos live on Zoom.

And that’s the walk for my talk. Last week, I talked a big game to kids about stress being an unwelcome guest on our journey. This week, I am trying to live up to that promise. I do, indeed, want them to “put down the class” when a lack of clarity has led to confusion, turned to frustration, and produced stress. Of course, I am not suggesting there is no value in the productive struggle–there is. But I am suggesting that when the struggle is no longer productive, it is time to reach out to me for help. I have taught long enough in the “best of situations” to know that what I think is crystal clear in terms of direction is clear as mud on the other side, and when there is a screen between and distance divides, the likelihood of a lack of clarity is greater. And I want kids to know that I bear the responsibility of making things clear for them. Yes, it is often their “fault” for various reasons (didn’t read the directions, opened the wrong document, etc.), and yes, I could put it back on them and “teach them responsibility,” but that’s not how I roll. I would rather the kids learn responsibility by acknowledging they need help and seeking it.

Is it more work? Yep. No two ways about it. But it’s my work. It’s what I am here for. It’s what I am trained for. Yes, it’s work. Yes, it’s inconvenient. But I discovered long ago, that teaching is not about convenience; it’s about service. But shouldn’t there be a limit? Yes. Absolutely. We all have limits, and right now those limits are being put to the test in ways we never imagined. But for 8 hours a day, I try to be limitless. I bend for kids. I almost break for kids, but I haven’t broken yet, and after 25 years, I don’t think I will. Because. Because, at the end of the day, I find my limits and I try to live them. No emails. No paperwork. Unless there is an emergency–and I have come to learn and live, that there are no emergencies when it comes to school, it can wait. We know this. And I strive to get my kids to understand this. Most “emergencies” are only so because of the “constructs” we have created. Deadlines can be moved. Penalties prevented. Grades changed. In truth, we can all “put down the class.” And just as we can put it down, we can pick it up. It’ll be there in the morning. In my 25, there never was a day it wasn’t waiting for me.

Happy Wednesday, all. Be safe.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.