Yesterday, the kids started mining their identities. I asked them to start writing an “I Am From” poem. I first came across this “type” of poem in Mary Pipher’s book Writing to Change the World. In chapter 2 “Know Thyself” she shares her version based on the original by George Ella Lyon. I shared Lyon’s with the kids (below).
Where I’m From I am from clothespins, from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride. I am from the dirt under the back porch. (Black, glistening it tasted like beets.) I am from the forsythia bush, the Dutch elm whose long gone limbs I remember as if they were my own. I am from fudge and eyeglasses, from Imogene and Alafair. I’m from the know-it-alls and the pass-it-ons, from perk up and pipe down. I’m from He restoreth my soul with cottonball lamb and ten verses I can say myself. I’m from Artemus and Billie’s Branch, fried corn and strong coffee. From the finger my grandfather lost to the auger the eye my father shut to keep his sight. Under my bed was a dress box spilling old pictures. a sift of lost faces to drift beneath my dreams. I am from those moments — snapped before I budded — leaf-fall from the family tree.
By George Ella Lyon
Using a template I found online, I asked kids to start digging through their pasts to find some gems they could include in their own “I’m From” poems. We will continue working on these today, and the kids will publish and share them next week. It’s the first piece in their Project Identity Portfolio that they will be putting together all semester long as they seek to answer the question, “Who Am I?”
I am “digging” this opportunity to learn even more about my kids as they learn about and share themselves.
How’d the webcast go yesterday? Well, turns out, all my worry will have to wait. Spokane Talks had to reschedule. So we will now do it at a later date. I will keep you posted. All good. Life happens.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…demonstrating learning with parallel structure on a short Performance.
…digging deeper into identity with our “I’m From Poems.”
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Thursday, all. Sorry for the practical post this morning. Have a great day.
Usually, I am saying this to my kids. Today, I am saying it to myself.
You’ll be fine, Sy. You write and talk about this stuff all the time. It’s not your first rodeo. Just get up there and do your best.
I will. I do. It’s not. I will.
But, if I’m honest, I am a bit anxious this morning as I think ahead to my guest opportunity on Spokane Talks this afternoon with ED 101 host, Erik Wolfrum.
We are doing a segment on “humanizing education,” and I am eager to share my work around classroom culture. And while I feel like I have much to share, I am a little worried about where to start, go, and end. We only have 24 minutes. It’s an open format, with no advance questions. It’s live. And it’s at home.
What if I say too much?
What if I don’t say enough?
What if I forget to say that?
What if I say something I shouldn’t?
What if I mess up?
I dreamt last night that I lost all my followers on Twitter, and I was desperate to find out why, but no one would talk to me. They just kept disappearing. I hope it was not a harbinger of bad things to come this afternoon. I hope people don’t disappear. I hope I don’t disappear.
You’ll be fine.
I will. But I’ve always been a “Nervous Nellie.” And no matter how many times I do something; no matter how many times I tell myself, “I’ll be fine,” my worry warts raise their ugly heads, and I worry.
I am nervous. I tell my kids that’s a good thing. It means we care. And I do care. Maybe too much. I don’t get up at the crack of dawn every morning to make sense of and share my journey because I have nothing better to do. I believe in this stuff. I live this stuff. It drives me. It consumes me. It’s become me.
And so, as I think ahead–real or imagined–I feel a great amount of pressure to make it count. I want to better education. I want to better the world. I want us to create greater spaces of connection for kids, so they may not only live their best lives now but also live their best lives later. And not simply because we prepared them for what is, but rather because we empowered them to create what yet may be: a world connected, a world they create because they expect more and believe they can do more. That is what I want.
I will share this post with my kids today. I want them to know I get nervous, too. But, more importantly, I want to continue sharing more of what I expect and want from and for them: a better world.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…playing the preparation game (parallel structure).
…sharing my nerves.
…creating “I am from” poems for Project Identity.
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Wednesday, all. Thank you for letting me write through my anxiety this morning. It helped.
Some days Just aren’t ours. When there’s not much light in our stars. It is good to rely On those around To buoy us up So we don’t drown
Probably should have stayed home yesterday. But by the time I got to school and finally decided that was the best course of action, there were no subs available. Didn’t want to inconvenience any colleagues with covering my classes, so I stayed. And I used one of my lifelines.
I give kids two lifelines per semester to use at their discretion. Many never use them (I allow them to carry them over if they don’t). For the few who do use them, it’s generally due to stress from a test in another class. And, of course, some just use them when they are having a crappy day. Regardless the reason, they are their lifelines to spend and accept responsibility for.
Yesterday, my reason fell under the “feeling crappy” heading. I was not–no matter how hard I fought it–going to be my best. So, I let the kids know.
And they in turn, let me know that it was okay.
Fortunately, yesterday was a scheduled personal reading day, so it was good day to float along. Grateful that my kids lifted me up and carried me through. Kids. They really are the best humans.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…playing the preparation game with parallel structures.
…students leading and evaluating a discussion on Nature v. Nurture
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme
Happy Tuesday, all. Still floating a bit, but head’s above water this morning.
Morning, all. Find myself a lot tired and a little uninspired this morning. Doesn’t happen very often, but I am not going to fight it. Sorry. Back at it tomorrow. Promise.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…the joy of personal reading.
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Monday, all. Thanks for letting me off the hook this morning.
What do you do with the mad that you feel When you feel so mad you could bite? When the whole wide world seems oh, so wrong… And nothing you do seems very right? What do you do? Do you punch a bag? Do you pound some clay or some dough? Do you round up friends for a game of tag? Or see how fast you go?
It’s great to be able to stop When you’ve planned a thing that’s wrong, And be able to do something else instead And think this song: I can stop when I want to Can stop when I wish
I can stop, stop, stop any time. And what a good feeling to feel like this And know that the feeling is really mine. Know that there’s something deep inside That helps us become what we can. For a girl can be someday a woman And a boy can be someday a man.
For a brief time in my very young years, I thought Mr. Rogers was my dad. And whether it was the resemblance he struck in my fading memory of what my father looked like, or the desperate need for a loving man in my life, I wanted him, needed him to be my dad. Desperately.
Of course, I later discovered that he wasn’t my dad–silly kid–he was just a man on TV. But even so, that “just a man on TV’s” kindness served, I now believe, as an important surrogate for instilling the importance of kindness and compassion during my most-impressionable years.
To this day, I’ve never been mad about my parents’ divorce–sad and confused, especially early on, but never mad. And I don’t know why. Maybe I should have been mad. Maybe I learned to “stop it.” Maybe I learned it from Mr. Rogers. In the 70’s there was not a lot to watch on television, so it is likely I heard Mr. Rogers sing the “What Do You Do?” song many times, and it helped the boy become this man.
This man. This forty-seven-year-old man who now finds himself more drawn to Mr. Rogers than the four-year-old boy who could not have needed him more. Of course, the boy then could not have known the impact, could not have guessed he would rediscover his unsung hero’s role in shaping “this man” forty-some years into his future.
In truth, I had not really thought about Fred Rogers in decades. As I got older, Mr. Rogers gave way to more “manly” models, Superman taking top bill, especially as this man entered his career as a teacher. See, he thought, he actually believed (still does, I guess) he had to be a super human, a super hero for his kids, and Superman’s “S” worked well with Syrie, so he found his model. (A look into my closet–nearly 20 Superman shirts, and a peak into my classroom–Superman stuff all over, confirms it). So for years, I donned my Super Syrie cape, adopting a persona for kids. But I have recently hung up my cape and turned my prized tees into yard-work shirts. I now a wear a sweater.
Mr. Rogers wore a sweater; that was his cape, and I remembered that as I rediscovered the marvel of the man on a flight home from Tennessee.
I watched–no, I absorbed, Won’t You Be My Neighbor on the seatback in front of me on a long flight home from my niece’s wedding back in October. And as I sat there with smiles–and tears I refused to hide–on the packed 757, I rediscovered my hero, and in doing so, I discovered myself, this man.
This man.
This man puts on a sweater every day as he sings a song to and with his sophomores every period.
https://youtu.be/7_HS0wUV9uw
This man then sits in a circle with them every period, every day for a brief period of time as they share their stories during Smiles and Frowns.
This man then shares a new Sappy Sy Rhyme as they leave him for the day, as he hopes against hope they feel connected, they feel their stories matter, they feel they matter.
https://youtu.be/MivImS9LP08
For how they feel means everything. They are human. And there is nothing more human about us than our feelings. So, he considers, and honors their feelings. And in a time when we perhaps need human connection more than ever, he will always listen; he will always consider and honor their feelings so they may someday become men and women who are better connected to themselves and others. Humans need connection.
“And know that the feeling is really mine. Know that there’s something deep inside That helps us become what we can. For a girl can be someday a woman And a boy can be someday a man.”
This man knows he is not Fred Rogers. He knows he will never be Fred Rogers. But this now man, who was once the boy, knows he owes a deep debt to the man who showed him something deep inside that would someday help him become a man. This man. And this man has never felt more a man than when he is trying to be Mr. Rogers. Thank you Mr. Rogers. I am sorry that it took me so long to remember. And though you were just the guy on TV and not my dad, I’d like to think I might just make you proud when I sit down with my kids every day to help them when their…
Here’s the recent podcast I did with the folks at TeachThought. Wanted to share. Thank you all for being so supportive of my work and message. Honored to share “our” story with more of the world.
“Sy, I didn’t get this done. Is it okay if I take it home and finish it,” Faith asked.
“What do you think I’m gonna say, Faith?”
“Of course you can,” she gently parroted.
“Of course you can,” I smiled, as “onlisteners” cracked their own “knowing smiles.”
“Man,” I continued. “Next year I ‘m gonna try out “mean” for a year. A new project. Instead of Project 180, I am going to do Project Mean-Guy Sy.”
Laughing, kids bobbed their heads in a “good-luck-with-that” gesture.
Maggie, my TA who was in my class last year, announced with a gentle chide, “That’ll last about half a period.”
They know me better. I could never be Mean-Guy Sy. And here’s why.
I don’t need to be.
Of course, I didn’t enter the world of ed knowing that. I have learned that. I have, much to my shame, been mean a few times, but I quickly learned better upon reflection. We never have to be mean to kids. Never.
So, then, does that make me “Super-Nice-Guy Sy?” Of “Easy-Guy Sy?” I prefer, “Respectful-Guy Sy.”
I respect my kids. I respect their dignity, their individuality, their humanity. And I pay it first. I respect them and then work hard to earn their respect.
If that makes me easy, so be it. Okay, but can I manage a classroom? Don’t try to. I nurture culture.
From the moment my kids walk in the door.
To the words they find within.
To the roles, rights, responsibilities they own.
To the last words they hear as they leave my room.
Faith knew she didn’t need to ask me if it was okay. She already knew the answer. But she asked me anyway. They all ask. They all know. Of course, it’s okay. And I hope they know that the “okay” is my being respectful, not my being easy. For if they don’t…well, I may have to dig out my “Mean-Guy Sy” costume.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…discussing what Nature v. Nurture reveals about human identity.
We made snowflakes yesterday. Ya know, the ones we made in elementary school by folding paper, making cuts, and then unfolding them to marvel at the beauty of our creation. Those snowflakes.
But first we read a comic.
Our focus for the semester is “Identity,” and our Essential Question that will drive our work is “Who Am I?” So, as we delve deeper into the realm of identity, we started with Nature v. Nurture yesterday. After viewing a short clip on epigenetics (see below), I asked the kids to read the comic and answer the following questions.
What does the cartoon reveal about nature? Support with evidence from the text.
What does the cartoon reveal about nurture? Support with evidence from the text.
What is the central theme of the text? Write a theme statement.
Then I asked them to consider how our classroom culture related to the comic, particularly our use of Smiles and Frowns.
It honors our differences, our individuality.
We get to see how different and how alike we all are.
You keep us frozen, keep our snowflakes from melting.
Snowflakes from melting. Not sure I have ever been paid a more strange or satisfying compliment from a kiddo.
I then asked them to walk back with me to the first day of class ninety-some days ago, when I shared my “Roles, Routines, Rights, Responsibilities” approach with them, asking in particular if they remembered their first and most important role from the top of the list.
“Be ourselves,” they smiled.
I smiled back. And I told them everything I do is so they not only better discover themselves but also–maybe more importantly–never lose themselves in my room. If kids lose themselves in my room because of the environment that I create, then I cannot–I will not–weather that storm. That I could not accept. So I work to prevent such a terrible tempest. I work hard to save the unique beauty of each snowflake that enters my room.
And with that, I told them they’re all my little snowflakes and to celebrate and honor them we were going to make snowflakes! They responded with glee.
Today, they will add ten character traits to their flakes and hang them ceremoniously on the north wall of my room. Just the place we’d expect a snowflake to be most comfortable.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…playing the “number game” (gaming the standardization game). Continuing with parallel structure.
…hanging snowflakes.
…diving deeper into Nature v. Nurture, reading psychology articles and preparing for tomorrow’s discussion.
Playing the middle game. Well, I’m trying anyway. I’m cast about by competing currents, and this time of year, though I fervently swim away from it most days, the state test (Smarter Balanced Assessment) pulls, a vortex sucking me into the middle.
As most of my readers know, I harbor no love for standardization. I think our current, now-decades-long obsession with standardized testing has been a plague on learning, a blight on the dignity and humanity of our young.
And though I daily fight it in principle and practice in the 180 classroom, I never fully win the battle. Goliath will not fall, so I yield to my formidable foe. Love it or hate it–I hate it–standardized testing still stands firm, and though I hear hints of change on the horizon (de-linking it from HS grad requirement here in Washington State), it’s still a reality. So, I have to deal with it.
This year, feeling a little friskier than usual, I am going to game the game a bit, and I am going to tell my kids just that. It’ll go something like this.
“I am going to teach you how to play the game of standardization. I am going to put a bunch of stuff in your short-term memory that will likely show up on the Computer Adaptive Test (CAT), so you can dump it there and the state can give you a gold star. (Okay, that was maybe a bit snarky). I am sorry that you have to have your dignity and humanity reduced to a number this spring. But it’s the game we have to play, so play we will.”
Am I selling out? That’s the question isn’t it? Keeps me up at night. Vexes me. But wait, before you unsubscribe or unfollow me and hang charlatan around my neck, let me explain.
I am only devoting 7 strict minutes to this, four days a week. We will do it right after Smiles and Frowns. And my aim is not to drill and kill. I am not that big a sellout. Learning still matters. Always matters. I am just trying to create anchors in my kids’ brains, using an introduction/application model. Yesterday, I introduced parallel structure, a perennial guest on the SBA. But I didn’t even say “parallel structure” till the very end. This was the basic approach.
I asked kids to examine four sentences that I had written on the board, 2 with parallel structures, 2 with non-parallel structures. I asked them to just share what they noticed.
Kids discovered that their ears were helpful. “It doesn’t sound right.”
Kids discovered that there were inconsistencies in the non-parallel.
I then asked them to complete a 4 problem multiple choice exercise, which asked them to choose the element that correctly completed the sentence. They then compared with a neighbor. As a full class, we quickly discussed the what and why of each–leaning on sound and consistency for the “why.”
Finally, I turned their attention to two sets of lines on the board: one set parallel and one set with a line that took a left turn at its middle. They discovered that the set on the right was parallel, consistent. And the set on the left was not parallel, inconsistent.
I said and wrote above the sets of lines. “You just learned about parallel structure.” The anchor: when consistency takes a left turn we have a parallel problem.
Of course, I know better than to think that I just magically and permanently attached “parallel structure” to 148 brains yesterday, but I tried–in earnest–to play the game with them in as dignified, respectful manner as I could until I find a better way to do it.
Am I selling out by acknowledging and bending to the will of the test? Maybe. But it pulls, and when it pulls at my kids, I get sucked in. It sucks.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…playing the standardization game (continuing with parallel structure).
…considering nature v. nurture with a clip on epigenetics and a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon.
…but in its messiness, it was beautiful because it was theirs.
Awkward silence. In some classes–many seconds at a time–we found awkward silence. And I didn’t blink. Eventually, they did. And, then, they started talking, started learning. And I just listened.
To be fair to my kids, it may have been a bit premature on the first day of the new semester with new classroom communities and different dynamics, but on a whim yesterday, I decided to try something different, seeking–as ever–to give my kids ownership over their learning. They led their own discussion, and not only for the content, but also for the experience of considering discussion dynamics–the latter being my greater goal.
This was basically the process. Individually, the kids prepared in advance by responding to questions and statements on the anticipation/discussion guide I gave them yesterday. Then, I informed them that they would engage in their own class discussion and that I would only be keeping time and taking notes. I would not participate. Before getting started though, I asked the class to share what they thought were elements of a good class discussion, listing their responses on the top of my notes and then reading back their ideas.
Then we got started. I gave them twelve minutes (all we had time for). Made one rule: they could not raise their hands; they had to find polite entry points into the conversation. I sat among them with my note pad, identifying opportunities for feedback. Otherwise, I did not participate.
No, I just watched their beautiful mess unfold. Well, okay, it was better than messy in many instances, but it was messy–no doubt there, but in its messiness, it was beautiful because it was theirs.
Here’s some of the beauty I witnessed.
awkward silence–I like to think that there’s thinking going on.
leaders emerging–surprising leaders. Interesting who will step up–and won’t–when the situation calls.
eye contact
disagreement
use of names in response
tracking and connecting
self-regulating
group-regulating
deep dives into ideas
active listening
voice projection
seeking clarification
providing examples
laughter–I laughed out loud many times. Kids are fun.
Of course, there was plenty of mess, too, which can simply be characterized as the opposite from what’s above. Of course, it was messy. They’re human. And being human is messy. And I want my kids to recognize, consider, and deal with the messiness of human communication. So, at the end, I asked them to share what went well and what needs work. Then, I shared my feedback, which in many respects mirrored the things the kids offered in their evaluation. We ended with the agreement that we would do better next time, and that is all–as many know–I ask for.
Of course, I know there are–and I have used–discussion protocols and approaches like Socratic Seminars, and while I think they are effective, they feel a bit contrived to me, so I wanted to try something that was a little more organic. So, we did, and as we did we learned, and we created an anchor for finding better. And trust me, though there were some shiny moments in each of my classes, there are many betters to find as we move forward through our beautiful, messy landscape.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…sharing our initial 50-word responses to the question, Who Am I?
…identifying and using parallel structures in our own writing.
