“You can’t hide.”

“You have to make eye-contact with everyone.”

“You have to sit so close to others.”

“When you talk, all eyes are on you.”

Yesterday, our discussion about community wrapped up with a final question, “Should classrooms be a community.” In general, the kids thought, “yes.” But the discussion also meandered down the path of though all classrooms are a community, not all classroom communities are the same. Some are healthy, and some are…well, not healthy. We explored reasons for this from the teacher to the arrangement of the room. It’s the latter that elicited the responses above.

I asked my kiddos how many of them were not excited about the desk arrangement when they walked in yesterday. Many hands went up. And with the hands, came the explanations. In short, the arrangement placed them outside their comfort zones, which in most classrooms has taken the form of rows where they stare at the back of someone’s head and speak at the teacher or into the air. It’s what they’re accustomed to; it’s what they’ve been conditioned to expect and call comfort. I offer different. And by the end of the conversation about community, the kids came to understand that I am intentional about the different I offer. I want a healthy classroom community, and that doesn’t happen by accident. So, I placed the kids in such a way that they had to see, they had to acknowledge, they had to engage with each other. For many, it was the first time. For all, it won’t be the last time. Community is a yearlong endeavor, and I am in it for the long haul.

Lines

We didn’t get too far into our “Meet Me” presentations yesterday, but even so, I learned a lot about my kids in a short while, and by the end of the day Friday, I will know much about each of them. But of all the things I learned yesterday, maybe the most important thing I learned was where the lines exist. In particular, where the line for each exists when it comes to sharing, speaking publicly. Of course, and not unexpectedly, most don’t want to share/speak, especially in a new environment, but they get over it and share anyway. A few relish it. I can see the sparkle in their eyes as they volunteer to go first. And another few, shut down. And it is from here where I am first put to the test. Will I budge? Will I see and hear their anxiety? Will I show empathy to the young lady with shaky tears sitting directly to my right, telling me she can’t do this? Of course. Of course, I will. The last thing I am going to do on day one is hold the line on something as scary as public speaking. Such lines are simply scribbles in the sand. They are not hard boundaries that won’t budge. I saw. I heard. I reassured with a pat on the shoulder and a promise that I would never make her do something that she doesn’t want to do. But, ya know, though it may not be the full-meal deal, I believe she will give it a shot. It’s up to her. And in the meantime, I will remember and revisit the lines I drew in the sand this summer on the Washington coast, for they are a promise, a promise to kids that I understand that each has her way, and I can help her find it.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…get our school pictures taken (kids get them taken during LA)

…complete our “Meet Me” questionnaires and/or create our activity cards.

…share “Meet Me’s” if time allows.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all. FYI, I started a YouTube channel for my Sappy Sy Rhymes. Link below. Have a great day.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whjft6CDP5s

Hard to believe I begin my twenty-third year of service in public education today. But with summer behind, and another year ahead, I am eager to continue serving, learning, and building as I chronicle another 180 days through Project 180.

And while I will make and share changes to 180 after a summer of reflection, I will begin where I’ve always begun: with the kids. Of course, as the years have passed, I have become better at giving more time to them, delaying the presentation of policies and procedures, for I have come not only to realize but also practice that there’s nothing more important in front of me than the little humans I serve. So I will give them–us–time to learn each other. This year, I am setting aside the first three days for laying the foundation for our community. My first and most important My Room standard is that I want kids to feel connected.

When we feel connected, we feel like we have purpose and support. I will begin building connections today, and as my faithful readers know, this will be an ongoing building project over the course of the year. I deign ice breaking, using cute little activities like checks on a list; no, instead, I relish foundation building from where I build and build and build, one connection at a time.

Meet Me

Today we will begin with an activity called “Meet Me.” The kids and I will complete this “interview” of sorts and then share it with the rest of the class. Beyond, the getting-to-know opportunity, it also provides practice speaking in class.

Nothing fancy, but something intentional. The seating arrangement is also intentional. We have to look at each other. I use this seating arrangement all the time. I have found that it’s hard to connect with someone when you spend fifty-five minutes staring at the back of their head, so I don’t use rows. For connections, we have to make visual contact.

To further connect our learning, we will also consider and answer the following questions over the next few days.

What is a community?

What communities do you belong to?

Do we create community or does community create us?

How would you create a classroom community?

And so, the building begins. So glad to be back here with you building a better experience for kids. We can change education.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will...

…connect with each other.

…reflect in our Journey Journal.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy first day, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

I tried.

I failed.

I am trying again.

I will succeed.

Until I fail again.

One of my biggest disappointments last year was my dropping the ball with our Journey Journals. Long story. Quit making a priority a priority. Time got on. Never got back to it. And just like that a priority became a memory. Kind of a painful one. So now I will seek to do better. Here’s the plan.

Tried to keep it simple and straightforward. One thing I have discovered is that it takes many kids awhile to warm up to the reflective mode, especially when it comes to getting them to move beyond the “what” of things. I want them to get to the “so what” and “now what” of things in their entries. I will offer support and practice patience. I will present my “Story Stems” again this year to help them get started down their reflective routes.

Of note, perhaps, is that this year I will include their Journey Journals as part of the select-and-support grading process. Admittedly, this is a bit uncomfortable for me, as I do not want it to create compliance. As you know, I have little interest in that path. I prefer to travel down the commitment path. I don’t want kids to reflect because they have to. I want kids to reflect because they want to, because they see the value it adds to their learning. So I will keep my eyes wide open to this as we journey forth. I will not give points. I will not penalize for missing entries. I will leverage commitment by engaging the kids about their reflections, both formally and informally. I will also leverage their commitment by pointing to the fact that we have no homework, only school work, and as part of their commitment, I expect them to work when they are at school, when they are in my class. Reflecting is at the center of our work…well, at least that’s the goal.

I am not using notebooks this year. Instead, I am using sheets. I know this may seem a bit old school, but I think it will make it more manageable and efficient. Why not digitally? Thought about it. But the reality remains: we still don’t have continual, immediate access to tech, so I am going with paper. Here’s the template we will use.

We do. We reflect. We do better. This is my next better with Journey Journals. It’s all I can do until I come to my next, next better.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

New room this year. Lots to unpack before the kiddos show up in two weeks. And just like the boxes on my classroom floor that need unpacking, I have containers of ideas in my head that need unpacking, too. And just as my room will begin to take final shape over the coming days, so will my approach this year in the 180 classroom. It’s a messy process, unpacking.

Here’s some of my mess.

Priorities, Priorities, Priorities

Lots of priorities. But three will take center stage this year. They, above all, will be my primary priorities for designing learning in my classroom this year. Conferencing. Reflecting. Sharing.

Conferencing. Not a new concept to the 180 classroom. In fact, as I have shared at other times, conferencing with kids about their work is where I truly–and maybe only–feel as if I am making a difference. So, it’s not the addition of conferencing that’s new. It’s the making it priority number one, that’s new. And to do that I had to confront a formidable obstacle in education: time. There’s never enough time. Never. But I am going to try anyway. And to do that I had to re-imagine what learning looks like in my room. To conference with kids I have to make time for kids. To conference with one kid, I have to create learning opportunities for the other kids.

Here’s a glimpse at my rough plan in the form of a weekly schedule (still have some details to work out). I will share more specifics in the coming days.

Mondays will be personal reading days. It’s an intentional, make-time-for-reading move. It’s also a great way to ease into the week. Open, “walk-in” conferencing available.

Tuesdays are QUESTions days. Each week we will set our course using three questions. One to do with our overarching question for the semester (this fall: “How does the human experience connect and divide us?”). One to do with reading. And one to do with writing. We will use the bulk of the day to front load the necessary elements that will guide our work for the next two days: Discovery days.

Wednesdays and Thursdays are Discovery days. It is here where the kids will do the work, seeking to answer the week’s questions. It is here where I will conference with kids. These will be scheduled conferences. There will be a rotating schedule week to week where I will get through half the kids in each class over the two days. In the past, I have had a more “open format” for such times, but it has not allowed me to meet consistently with every kid. This year meeting consistently with every kid is the priority.

What about the other kids? Well, to help them stay engaged in their own work, I am going to provide both structure and choice. I will write more about this in the coming days and certainly share what I learn over the course of the year, but for now I will share the basic idea .

The goal here is work. In my room work must take the form as one of the following activities.

The kids will create four 3X5 card placards with the above words. Each card will be folded in half. Whatever is facing forward is the work that that student is doing at the time. It gives me an opportunity to visually note who’s doing what. And as I transition from conference to conference, I can quickly engage some of the other kids in what they are doing. Each kid will reflect on their specific work for that day in their Journey Journal (more on that soon), and they will keep track of the type and patterns of work they are doing. As for behavior, the kids and I will determine community expectations for Discovery days.

Fridays are Checkpoint days. We will check in as a community sharing our work from the week. I want this to take on various forms, but some of my initial thinking is that we will simply discuss our work around the week’s questions. In addition, and of significance, we will also have scheduled sharing opportunities for kids to share their work with the rest of the community (more on this later, too).

That’s a bit of my mess this morning. Glad to be back.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Morning, all. Not quite back into blog mode yet, but I have been tweeting some thinking as a warm up. Sorry if it seems the easy way out. I’ll get back to it soon enough–maybe too soon. Cannot believe it’s the end of July.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

How do we know what we know in education? How do we know Jill learned this? How do we know Jack didn’t learn that? How do we know this was a good lesson? How do we know that was a bad lesson? How do we know this is a good teacher? How do we know that is a bad teacher? How do we know this is a good program? How do we know that is a bad program? How DO we know this? How DO we know that?

Maybe we don’t.

Maybe I don’t. Maybe it’s just me. But how do I know?

Seems when we don’t know, we don’t want others to know. So we seek answers. It’s human. We want to know. But what if we can’t know? I mean, really, what if we can’t? What if in education, we can’t know?

Oh, we try to know, especially if our “knowing” is necessary to hide what we don’t know. I mean, we can’t tell a parent  we don’t know if Jack is learning. We can’t tell our supervisor we don’t know if that was an effective lesson. We can’t tell someone we don’t know if he is a good teacher. We can’t tell the school board we don’t know if that program is successful. We have to know. We have to prove we know. And so, we measure.

We measure. When we want to know if an essay is effective, we create a rubric. When we want to know if student has learned, we provide a grade. When we want to know if a teacher is good, we create an evaluation. When we want to know if a program is successful, we mine data. We measure to show what we know, to prove beyond doubt that we know. But what if there’s doubt?

What if the same essay, using the same rubric was scored differently by a number of teachers? Does that mean we know? I have some doubts.

What if a student got an A on all tests but only got a C in the class because she didn’t do the homework? Does that mean we know? I have some doubts.

What if a teacher puts on a show only when he is observed to be labeled good? Does that mean we know? I have some doubts.

What if a school or district fails fewer kids to increase graduation rates. Does that mean we know? I have some doubts.

I have doubts. But there’s more at work here than one teacher’s doubts about the system he works in. When we measure, we rank. When we rank, we label. When we label, we sort. In short, when we measure, whether it’s an intended outcome or not, we create a culture of winners and losers, a reality that we know can have grave implications for kids at the top and bottom. A kid who is labeled a poor reader in elementary school will come to believe that label, come to live that label. And by the time she reaches me at the high school, she has lived out the prophecy. When my own son comes to believe–despite my suggesting otherwise–that an A is all that matters, his heightened stress makes me hope in earnest that he gets an A- this next year as he starts his high school experience.

Of course, we will never get away from the measure. We have to show what we know. But maybe, in the case of kids’ learning, we can take a different tack. Maybe we can know better by engaging those who know best: the learner. Let’s ask her. And if we can’t let it take the place of our measure, then maybe we can make it a complement to our measure. Either way, there may be some merit to the notion that if you want to know something, go to the source.

Kids know. They do. More than we believe, and the longer I have spent moving away from the measure and moving closer to the source, the more I have come to believe that if we want to know if kids are learning, we have to ask and listen. And that’s why I have gone to and continue to refine my select-and-support grading. Kids select their grades and support their choices with evidence. We come to an agreement based on the evidence, but we also take into account our judgment, our gut. For each kid, each situation is different, and among the myriad measurements that exist in our system, the only thing I “know” is that there is no one, best means to measure each kid. This I know. And of that there’s no doubt.

We should not only consider but go to the source when it comes to learning. Go to the headwaters. Ask her. She knows.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Here is Jenna Tamura’s end-of-the-year post. I meant to get it out a long time ago. Sorry, Jenna.

“I’ve always heard every ending is also a new beginning, we just don’t know it at the time.  I’d like to believe that’s true.” I’ve heard this quote several times as I continue to watch new, and rerun episodes of one of my favorite shows Criminal Minds.  Many know that the world of teaching is full of both knowns and unknowns.  Sometimes it is out of our control. But other times we can do something about it.  As this year comes to a close, I’ve thought about the things that I’m going to take with me into a new school year.

I will continue to do smiles and frowns with each one of my class periods every single day.  As I think about all the bits and pieces of stuff that I’ve learned about my kids, I can’t imagine going back and not knowing all those pieces of their life puzzle.  They know a lot about my life puzzle because I share as well. They’ve learned more about each other. We have become more than just a classroom. We are a community.  In my sixth period the other day I observed a group of 10 kids, who collectively probably wouldn’t have socialized outside of our community before, circle up to play a giant game of Uno during some down time.  In that moment I knew smiles and frowns are a non-negotiable for me moving forward.

I will continue with our select-and-support grading policy.  I can’t validate ditching the unconventional for the traditional when I’ve witnessed our grading policy work.  Yes, we know there are always changes and improvements to be made as we strive for “better”, but Monte Syrie and I are committed to staying on this path because kids respond when they are in charge of their own learning.  The stakes are less stressful because kids know they have time and we are flexible to their needs. We focus on growth. We focus on learning. We focus on what is best for kids.

So, as I say goodbye to my kids with either a high five, handshake, or a hug, I know that the break of summer will bring a new beginning to a new school year.  And while I don’t know what that new beginning will bring, I know I will carry these parts of this year with me into that new year with a new group of students.  

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

And then they came to an end in the road. It had been on the horizon for some time, and though each day it grew in their view, it still seemed far off and away. But not today. It is here, and so are they.

And that’s that. We’re done. And with another behind, I am already looking ahead, and as the dust settles, I will spend time reflecting on what I did, so my next “do’s” will be better. I will share my reflections in my summer “Reflection’s Reality” posts, but for the next week or so, I am going to take a break. Thank you to all my faithful readers for your kind and continued support. Could not do this without you. Thank you.

And as I wrap up another year of Project 180, I want to give a special shoutout to a special young lady. I first met her when she was a student in my classroom management course at the university. After that, she had some issues with her student-teaching placement, so she reached out for help, and–long story short–she ended up student teaching with me. She finished up mid-year, and through some connections, we were able to get her a job at Connell HS, where she finished up the year. But we snatched her back up here at Cheney that same fall, and she has been with us for the last two years. And though we thought we had found a “lifer,” stuff happens–love happens, and we are now losing Maddie as she heads off to Texas, following her beau. And while she will be missed by many, she will be missed most by Jenna and me, for she was the other leg in our gradeless grade-ten team. She has spent the last year experimenting and innovating with us, and we will miss what she brought to the table, a table that she, Jenna, and I sat at every morning for the last 180 days dreamin’ and schemin’ about ways to make our kids’ educational experiences more meaningful. Thank you, Maddie. Thank you for the collaborative, kid-loving, robot-dancing, cheer-coaching, compassionate spirit that you shared with us. You have made a mark. And you will not be forgotten. You are a cherished colleague, and you will be a lifelong friend. Keep doing. Keep reflecting. And keep doing better. Goodbye, dear friend.

Today’s Trail

Along our last stretch of trail we will…

…do our final Smiles and Frowns (my crowning achievement for the year)

…end with a final Sappy Sy Rhyme

…high-fives, handshakes, and hugs.

Happy end of another year. Maybe my best of 22. Gonna miss my little humans.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.