This Is Not A Test: Project 180, Day 24

I try to avoid the “T” word in the 180 classroom. One, it creates anxiety. Two, it suggests finality. The former is not necessary. The latter is contrived. Well, at least in the 180 classroom. So, I avoid it, and I offer in its stead: performance.

The 180 experience is a cycle of practice, feedback, and performance. The kids practice. I give them feedback. They perform. I assess their performances. Together, we adjust their aims and trajectories, and we enter the next cycle. When learning is a circle and not a line it obviates the constructs of anxiety and finality. When kids know they have practiced the performance (practice looks identical to performance), anxiety is greatly reduced, for they know what to expect. This is not always the case with “tests,” many of which are often the embodiment of the “gotcha game” that some teachers play under the guise of “rigor.” It is no wonder, then, that kids experience anxiety, especially in high school, where they arrive with their deeply conditioned responses and continue their “conditioning” throughout most of their educational experience, up to and including college. Further, when kids know they have another shot (multiple if necessary) to demonstrate proficiency, they come to learn that assessment can and should be “for” learning. And, too, they learn that the notion of finality is really more a teacher’s choice than a dictum of the system, but it has been their reality for so long they may never fully grasp the “untruth” of the nefarious notion of a test being an end rather than a bridge. And that is what I want performances to be: bridges, crossings to the next stage. I don’t want them to create anxiety. I don’t want them to connote finality. I want them to be natural steps along the learning journey. But that takes time, and that takes trust. I speak it. The kids hear it. But they do not yet believe it. After all, I am up against years of conditioning, so I will be patient and diligent. We will get there.

Last week, we had our first performance. And despite my communicating its purpose, the kids approached it like a test, and they responded to it like a test. Tommy was crestfallen upon learning his score: a 1 (far miss). In his mind, he failed. In my mind, he helped create an opportunity for learning. But he did not see that upon sitting down with me to discuss his performance, but after seeing his mistakes and learning that he would not only have the opportunity for “corrections” but also a retake (retakes, if necessary), his anxious fears of being trapped in the land of no return diminished as he began to imagine the possibility of building a bridge and continuing his journey.

Our next performance is on Thursday. Yesterday, I reiterated the purpose of performances, and while I believe some kids are coming around to this approach, many are still hesitant to settle into this new reality. And that’s okay. They’ll get there. Trust takes time. In many ways, I am asking them to cross a great divide, and if I were they, I, too, would want to be sure of the bridge before me.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

…begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…continue determining direction and developing plans for Passion Papers.

…reflect in our Journey Journals.

…end with a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

The Fog is Starting to Clear: Project 180 Guest Post

Am I really doing what is best for my students?  Am I being transparent enough?  Do they realize the importance of what we do every day in class?  

 

Wow!  I can’t believe I’ve been with my sophomores for a month already!  Yes, I have truly enjoyed getting to know them particularly through our daily “smiles and frowns.”  That being said, this month has been filled with surprises, mistakes, discoveries, and moments of stress.  Just like the sun rising, the kids came every day.  And while we use a forecast to help guide us through our days, sometimes there are things that happen that bring less-than-desirable conditions.  

As students filled the halls and our individual classroom on day one, we hit the ground running.  We were excited to start a new school year, excited to get to know a new group of students, and excited to embark on our new grading journey.  Day by day, during the first couple weeks, I saw the looks of hesitation and confusion diminish as I shared more and more details about the new grading policy.  Students quickly realized that amidst the change to something completely different they could trust me.  The power of a positive relationship goes a long way.

And then. . .BAM!  Week three hit me.  A thick fog rolled in.  It happens pretty much every year.  I pause just long enough from the “go, go, go” for all the worry and stress to hit me smack in the face.  My week was quickly filled with meetings, department chair responsibilities, and multiple questions:  Am I really doing what is best for my students?  Am I being transparent enough?  Do they realize the importance of what we do every day in class?  When it gets this bad it’s paralyzing.  My overall demeanor changes. I shut down.  I get quiet.  And those who know me well know this is completely out of character for me.  Syrie is definitely one of them.  He knows when it’s time to say, “Okay, kiddo.  We gotta figure this out”.  

On my drive home one day that week, I was trying to think of things I could do to alleviate some of the stress.  At some point I thought, “What if I write on colored poster paper and put it all up on the walls of my classroom?”  After digging through the trays at my neighborhood Rite Aid, I found enough colors to make it work.  

And now, since those have been up, the stress has subsided and I’m back to normal.  Whenever we talk about a Must-Meet or Focus Standard, I can direct their eyes to the green wall.  When they need to do their Journey Journal entry, they can look to the wall on the opposite side and answer any of those questions.  

And now, as I continue to give feedback through our practice assignments, and as they begin to strive for proficiency with the performances, the fog that crept in during week three has started to dissipate.  I can watch my kids learn.  I can watch my kids grow.  And, more importantly, I can support them as we make our way through this journey.

Do.  Reflect.  Do better.  

Project 180 Contributor, Jenna Tamura. Jenna is the ELA department chair and teacher at Cheney High School. You can follow her @JennaTamura on Twitter.

Keys to Learning: Project 180, Day 23

Here’s the thing about giving kids the keys to their learning. You have to give them the keys. Today, I will seek to do just that by introducing the Passion Paper. The Passion Paper is a semester-long writing assignment designed to give kids ownership of their learning. I have set some guidelines, but beyond those, the kids have a lot of freedom to pursue their own passions. I am asking them to lead, so I can follow. As the new leaders, they will brave some new territory in which they will come up against some new challenges, challenges which will lead to some frustration as they navigate this new realm. And that’s my goal. I want them to struggle a bit. I want them to find solutions. I want them to find themselves. I will be with them, and I will help them along their way, but I am not going to take the lead. In the driver’s seat they will sit, and I will fill the passenger’s, where I can enjoy the ride and the view as they learn to drive. They have the keys.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will…

...begin with Smiles and Frowns.

…recite Mindset Mantras.

…get started on Passion Papers.

…Reflect in Journey Journals.

…end with Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all. Have a great week.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Dear Kiddo: Lessons from the 180 Classroom

Dear Kiddo,

I have thought about you all weekend. I thought about you when I was riding my bike early Saturday morning. I thought about you when I was moving horse manure on my tractor Saturday afternoon. And I am thinking about you now as I sit here in the early Sunday morning hours trying to capture this past week, so I  may do better this coming week. And as I do so, all thoughts turn to you.

First, I am sorry. I am sorry that my recent addition of weekly homework in the form of personal reading for 30 minutes, 5 days a week overwhelmed you. I am sorry that my attempt at empathy and my offer of an alternative approach seemed to have little effect on your near-tears, stressed-out state that you quietly revealed to me late Friday afternoon. I am sorry.

And as I sit here, and again try to settle into your shoes, I have achieved some clarity on how you must feel. One, I am taking you along a path down which you have never been by giving you the keys to your learning, a path that has landed you in a vast landscape of unfamiliar territory. I tend to think that this must be a thrill to you and your peers, but I also need to consider that it’s probably frightening, too. I will do better to remember this. Two, I know you were not happy the with the outcome of your first performance despite my assurances that it was one opportunity of many to come for you to demonstrate proficiency, despite my assurances that it was not a test, that it wasn’t your grade, that it was just an indicator. Easy for me to say. As I am the one who charted the course, I can see the landscape, know its nuances, but you cannot and that must be scary. I will do better to remember this, too.

Last, thank you. Thank you for opening my eyes. Thank you for reminding me that there is more to guiding than walking ahead. Thank you for reminding me that leading necessitates looking back on those we lead, that leading seeks to bridge the distance between those in front and those behind. And so, here is my looking back, here is my seeking to bridge the inevitable gaps that will occur along our journey. Meet me where you can. In the end I do not care about the work I give you. I offer it as only a challenge, as simply an opportunity. And for both, I will offer support. I will meet you where I can if you promise the same. With that, then, we will meet, and that is all that really matters.

Sincerely,

Sy

Do. Reflect. Do Better.