so much depends

upon a conversation

between a teacher

and a student

along the way

Trying my hand at amateur poetry by channeling William Carlos Williams this morning to capture my sentiments from talking with kids yesterday.

Each team or individual met with me to discuss their progress with their Truth Projects. Our conversation was framed around three simple questions.

What have you explored?

What have you discovered?

What’s next?

And for roughly five minutes we connected. They talked. I listened. We made and held eye contact. We leaned in. We laughed back. We expressed. We wondered. We planned. We schemed. We connected.

It was simple. It was beautiful.

And as I think of my very favorite, my most gratifying moments with kids over the last twenty-three years, it’s moments like these that bubble to the top, moments when I see them and they see me, moments when it’s human as it should be.

Today, I will seek to listen again as I ask them to evaluate me and my efforts with my “My Room” standards. I will hand them a card like the one above and ask them to give me some feedback, to let me know how I am doing. I will also ask them to use one of the elaboration methods we’ve been learning.

I will listen. I will learn. I will do better.

this is just to say

I have listened

to the kids

you were trying

to keep quiet

forgive me

they spoke

so certainly

so sincerely

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting with Smiles and Frowns.

…evaluating the teacher and his promises.

…writing to elaborate.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all. Have a great weekend.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

It’s still a little odd for me to be on the edge, but I find myself there more and more these days. Used to not be. I was always center. Thought I had to be. So I was. And from there I  talked. A lot. I like to talk. I got used to it, so I stayed there, convinced the more and better I talked, the more my kids would benefit. What a gift I was giving them.

That was then. Now I find myself pushed to the edge, away from center, with a new role: listener. And as I listen, I learn, but as I listen I want. I want to be a part. And I am, I guess. In truth, I work hard to be a part. I want to be, I work to be connected to my kids. However, all the want and work in the world will not fully fill the gap, and I will remain apart, and as such, I will only ever be a part.

And that puts me on the edge, removed. And that’s okay, for when I am away, they can be themselves. And it is then when I fully embrace the edge as I quietly, intently listen. I hear their hearts, their hopes, their wonders, their woes, their weirdness, their world. Their world from which I am apart and only a part. But what a gift. What a gift they are giving me.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…conferencing about progress with Truth Projects.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

“Can’t avoid it any longer, Mr. Sy.”

“No, ‘spose not, kiddo.”

She had turned it in blank. Well, she never even started. I knew–we knew–there was no point. Her anxiety had come to haunt, so I just told her we could do it another day, maybe during the next day’s Access Time we could sit down and work through it together. But that day came and went (the ghosts still lingered) and so did three other Access Time opportunities. But yesterday, will intact, she decided we needed to get Performance #4 done. So we did.

We cleared off the corner of my desk; she pulled up a chair; we gathered our materials, and we set to work.

We set to work. But I didn’t walk for her, I walked with her. She needs me to. She is plenty able but her needs are a little different, so I meet her at her needs. She gets easily and confused and frustrated; her anxiety creeps along, settles in, and she shuts down. So we walk at her pace.

“Okay, kiddo, let’s go to the passage. Read it and look for the universal theme(s) that Elie is addressing.”

“Loss of Faith.”

“Great. Now, what is Elie saying about the loss of faith.”

“Um, well, in dark times, people question their faith, and…”

“Okay, let’s write that down.”

And she did, or she tried, and then she stopped. Wringing her hands, she began to recite “d,” “b” making symbols with her fingers.

“Dyslexia, I asked.”

“Yeah, she sighed. Elementary was awful. Teachers yelled at me all the time.”

Yelled. All the time.

“But you seem to be dealing.”

“Yeah, I just gotta slow down and focus. My fingers help. My dad taught me that.”

And so, we made our way, my giving little nudges here and there, her working with her hands to find her focus and avoid her anxiety. And many minutes later, her Performance was done. And done well.

With help. And, of course this brings questions. Is it learning? Did she do the work? Did I do the work? If we did the work, is it then invalid? Can she earn a 3 on the Performance since I helped her? Is it fair to the other kids? Will this prepare her for the future when she may not get help? Is teaching helping or is teaching testing?

Teaching has to be helping, right? If helping is not teaching, then why does it feel right? Testing has never felt right. Never. It’s always felt that it was something I was doing to the kids. Not with the kids.

Yesterday, I walked with her. I helped her. I taught her. And I think that is the essence of my job. Help.

Sadly, I cannot help all my kids in all the ways they need help all the time. But I will try. It’s all I can do. As for the other questions and criticisms that may come with my giving such “help,” I don’t care.

I. Don’t. Care. Not anymore. It’s my room, and I will help kids. That is my purpose. That is my why. And as the outside world puffs and proffers under the pretense of what is and isn’t “good teaching,” I will be here helping kids. I think it’s that simple.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…exploring media for our Truth Projects.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

“Though you never gave us homework, this was one of the only classes I took home every night.”

143 kids selected their midterm grades yesterday. And, today, the world has not come to an end. The gears are spinning. The wheels are rolling. And in a short few hours, I expect the sun to peek out over the horizon.

Did they all choose A’s? Nope.

Did some select higher than the evidence might suggest at this point? Yep.

Did some select lower than the evidence might suggest at this point? Yep.

Did they all have a chance to put a finger on, to shed some light on their learning? Yep.

And did they put a finger, did they shed light? I don’t know.

But here are two light-shedding efforts that resonated with me.

Were all the reflections as gratifying as these? Nope.

Some were downright disappointing. But what should I expect from kids who have never had a chance to articulate their learning? How does one explain a “B?” I mean really explain. Could a roomful of teachers come up with a compelling confirmation of what one really represents? And percentages are neither compelling nor trustworthy. “It’s an 84” fails to tell a compelling tale. And the various distinctions between and among the “80’s” are more arbitrary than nuanced, so little trust can be placed in such “exactitude.”

143. 143 kids had a chance to speak yesterday. I gave them voice. I gave them choice. In their learning. Big risk? Nah. It’s midterm. Grades don’t really count at this checkpoint. But a risk? Maybe.

But I–we–can’t change without. I was not convinced that traditional grading methods  supported learning, so I changed. I set out to find better. Am I there yet? Can one ever stop getting better? I aim to find out.

At term, the standard will be higher, as the kids and I will come to the table around their compiled evidence, seeking to come to an agreement on what grade most fairly represents their learning. And we will keep at it until we find that place on the horizon where together we find the light on their learning.

“I’ve done my best, and I’m learning from my mistakes and am improving.”

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…writing to elaborate.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Tuesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

Midterm.

First “official” checkpoint of the year.

Grades are going home.

Let the interpretation begin.

And isn’t that what it is? An interpretation. What does “A” really mean? Is the “A” in period 2 the same as the “A” in period 5? What about that “C” in period 3? How was the letter determined? Was it an average? Was it based on tests only? How heavily did homework count? How did the teacher’s late work policy figure in? Can my child improve her grade? Is she learning?

Seems a little letter can mean much. Or maybe not. Maybe parents don’t really ask these questions. Maybe they trust that the little letter we assign means everything we mean it to mean, for surely we all mean the same thing for each letter. But that’s a lot of trust for a little letter that in the end may in fact mean nothing.

Well, okay, not nothing. But is the something we send the same something that is received? I am not convinced. And while I think that parents do likely wonder these things about the little letters we send, they rarely voice them, for I think they think we have this letter system down pat, we have an exact science. If only this were true.

We don’t. And we know it, and I think on some level we thank our lucky stars at these checkpoints that parents don’t push, that students don’t squawk–at least not too loudly or so much that we can’t silence them with teacher talk.

“The percentage in Skyward is…”

“They have to study more.”

“In the real world they have to…”

“The state testing requirements…”

“It is not fair to the rest of the students.”

But what if we didn’t “silence” them? What if instead we gave them a voice? What if we let, in particular the students, add their two cents to the story? What if we asked them, “Are you learning? How do you know?”

And then let’s come to an agreement on what letter (only because it’s required) best represents your learning for this grading period.

This is exactly what I intend to do today. I will ask kids to select and support a letter. I will ask them to contribute to their story. They are the source of what’s really going on. I wrote about this back in July, Go to the Source. I think we can work with kids to capture that which we don’t have down pat, that for which we do not have an exact science. Learning.

Letters tell a tale. Is my way the best way? Don’t know. But I am trying to find a better way, and I believe that lies down the path of working with kids, allowing them to participate in and take ownership of their learning.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…selecting and supporting grades.

…freedom and joy of personal reading.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Monday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.

It’s been sitting there for some time.

No one else can see it or hear it.

But it’s there, perched on your shoulder, whispering, urging.

Do it.

You want to.

You need to.

And some days you almost do, but resolve gives way to doubt, and you leave it. And for a moment, for awhile it sits silent, dejected, disappointed, but soon again, it finds its call.

Do it.

And you vow, you promise, tomorrow will be the day.

It’s tomorrow. It’s there on your shoulder. It’s calling.

So, do it.

Take that crazy classroom dream of yours that defies convention, smites the status quo, serves your students, and do it.

You have to start somewhere. No, it won’t go perfectly. Yes, you will make mistakes. But, you will learn. And as you learn, it will grow. And soon your dream becomes your reality, giving way and room to the next dream on your shoulder, urging “do” again, waiting for you to breathe life into your aspirations.

One dream at a time. Do it.

Today.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…exploring a sea of media.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all. Sorry for the different post this morning. Was just hoping to give a nudge to my fellow change champions out there. If I can help, let me know.

Do. Reflect. Do Better. 

“I’m so excited. I want to start right now. Can I start right now?”

“Yes, Jess. You can start right now.”

I said yes even though I knew she was getting the cart before the horse just a bit. She wanted to start on the end before she even began the front. But she was energized, eager, motivated, and  I am not going to stand in the way of an inspired kid. It’ll work itself out in the end; the back and front will come together. For now, I will enjoy the eager energy of my kids as we begin our latest project, a project that an hour earlier did not even exist. Well, in a sense.

I was supposed to introduce our human experience project from WWII, giving kids an option to explore either the European or Pacific theater through multiple media lenses, but the closer we got to the start date, the less certain I was feeling about the project’s ability to sustain students’ interest for the remainder of the semester. We had already done a fair amount with both theaters, most notably reading Night and listening to our guest speaker Mr. Tamura speak of his family’s experiences in the Japanese Internment camps. The kids were certainly engaged and interested in both, but I worried about the long haul.

In addition, I had introduced a different human experience project to my honors kids the day before, and I knew it had both starting and staying power based on the kids’ reception. And by then, what was a minor concern quickly turned to full-fledged doubt, doubt that I could not hide from my grade-level partner Jenna Tamura.

“Not feeling it, T.” I told her yesterday morning.

Not feeling it is a dangerous place for me, for I can’t fake it, and I knew if I didn’t find the feeling, it would be a quiet disaster for me and the kids. And though I had sat down to talk out with her, I had already made up my mind. I was ditching the WWII project.

Not surprised (she knows I change as often as the weather) and a little disappointed, she accepted my wayward wanderings, and set to her own introspective search to determine her course with her kids.

What’s good is that the standards and the skill sets are basically the same for each project, so it doesn’t really get in the way of our common assessments. That much is intact. But what’s bad is a lot of work went into creating the WWII project, and now I was abandoning it. And I was sorry, not sorry.

I have to trust my gut, and my gut was talking, so I listened.

It said, “there’s not enough choice.”

It said, “You are going to milk too much of a good thing by sticking to WWII, the kids have reached a saturation point.”

It said, “You are not excited about teaching it.”

It said, “Your honors kids are getting a better deal, and you promised to give your regulars the same experiences this year. You promised.”

It said.

So, I changed. I always change–yes, as the weather. And while it no doubt drives my colleagues crazy, it drives me to better. I can’t help it. It’s who I am.

And after Jessie’s response to the project yesterday morning, I knew I was right to listen; I knew I was right to change, especially when at the end of the day, she bounced into my room, wanting to share the introduction to her documentary, “What is Love?” She already had a a few minutes or raw footage from her asking peers, teachers, and administrators the simply confounding question, “What is love.” It’s going to be fantastic.

Here are the bare bones of the project. I’ve never done it before, and so, as I told the kids, we will have to make adjustments along the way as we learn more, but for now we are on our way, and I am as excited as they.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…exploring media to find “truths.”

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Thursday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.