“You should. You’ve worked hard. I am proud of you, kiddo.”
I suppose, generally speaking, this is nothing remarkable. This should be how kids feel in every class, every day. Should be.
And though my remarks that follow will not alone make it so, I do find Jill’s experience worthy of remark; I do find it…well, remarkable.
And though there are many things I could point to: the time, the effort, the final products, etc., there is one thing in particular that I’d like to put my finger on. There have been no points. Heck, there have been no “numbers” exchanged at all. Only feedback. Well, and her response to that feedback. Her response to that feedback.
It’s been all Jill. I simply set the stage with the project. I gave the opportunity, and I provided the support, but she has done the work, she has done the learning: without grades. Oh that is not to say that the project has no impact on her final, required transcript mark. It does, for it will be at the center of our select-and-support conference in the coming days, but she already knows what that will be, for in my class she has a great deal of control over her “end,” her story. She wrote it. And she will tell it. She will show me how she responded to feedback. She will show me the “redo’s” she has amassed in her drive to create a quality product for herself. She will show me what she has accomplished. And she will do so with pride.
But what about the other kids? Jill is likely a kid that does well, regardless the approach, but what about the other kids? Are they working as hard?
Fair enough. In a word, yes. Oh, I am not suggesting we have arrived at some magical place in 206 where kids all work, all the time. But I am suggesting that all kids are working towards an end, in their own way, in their own time.
Jack is on the other side. He is not…well, hasn’t been the diligent, driven student that Jill is. Not even close. But this spring, with this project, things have been different. He’s done. A week early. In the past, done “rarely” occurred, and “early,” never. Of course his story is distinctly different from Jill’s in terms of getting there, but I have come to the accept the notion that it has to be. Jill is not Jack. And Jack is not Jill. But they both climbed the hill. On their own. And to me, that is remarkable.
I wonder if others can feel it? I feel it. I believe my kids feel it. But I wonder if others can as they enter our room. It is there, among and around us. Some days subtle. Other days palpable. But it is always there. Always.
It was there when I started back in ’96, but we were not well acquainted yet. It waited for me. I caught up with it the next year when I followed my 7th graders to the the 8th, giving me the honor of having the same kids two years in a row. I met it through them.
Over the years, I’ve come to know it quite well. It has proven a ready companion, a loyal ally to turn to when things get tough. And it, no matter the need, has always showed me the way. It is full of wisdom.
But it is not exclusive. To be sure, I see it everywhere. It is in classrooms around the nation, around the world. It is even in the classrooms where it has not yet been discovered. It is an omnipresence, but it will not be forced. It has to be welcomed. And once it is welcomed, it changes everything. It alone has that power.
It is it. It is all. There is nothing else. Over the years I have sought to make it mine, but it cannot be owned; it cannot be made; it cannot be bought, imitated, or replicated. It is authentic. So, consequently, it cannot be named. It is simply it. So what is it? It is not mine to name. But I can tell you what it is not.
It is not a text book.
It is not a test.
Nor curriculum or program.
It is not management.
It is not a number or letter.
And never a percentage.
It is never the same.
It changes every year, without exception.
It is neither fleeting nor permanent.
It is not a motto or mission statement.
It is simply and only it. I am so glad I found it all those years ago. And now, as this twenty-third year comes to a close, I feel it–deeply, as I look out at my kids, missing them already.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing as writers.
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Thursday, all. Sorry for the odd post this morning. I was feeling it.
We’re on a block schedule (2 hour periods) right now. The kids are taking the math SBA (one of my kids called it the State Bullcrap Assessment yesterday…just sayin’). Anyway, the longer periods were welcomed as it gave us more time to connect through feedback. Feedback. That’s the stuff.
Working pretty hard right now to learn in my current reality to help turn my current ideal into a real reality next fall: the feedback-only classroom. One thing in particular that I am focusing on is identifying what each kid needs and using my knowledge of them to tailor my feedback. I have learned–am still learning–that feedback is about more than just using established success criteria to move my writers; it’s also about using my relationships to connect with my writers. Without connection, our impact is limited. Rubrics matter. Relationships matter. And though it may sound odd to some, when in doubt, I lean on the latter.
Because of my connection with Jack (name changed), I know how to tiptoe around his ego. He has never written anything that he doesn’t like, and so it is a delicate matter to engage him in a way that helps him and doesn’t hurt him. To be sure, his writing is good, and he is a good writer, but good can always be better, so I employ my knowledge of this young man to help him chase his own better. And for this, I find the rubric, no Rosetta Stone. Relationships are better to work from as I try to figure out the universal language of learning, so when I speak, kids like Jack, hear me because they know I see them.
Of course, there are others, one-hundred-forty-one others to be exact for whom I do my best to help them grow as writers as we make our through their unique learning journeys, which will continue long after they’ve left me behind. So, consequently, I do what I can, while I can, and I have found relationships a ready tool.
Too Fast, Too Soon
Okay, I did not plan to go here this morning. I, as has been the case here with the wind down of the year, had no idea what might come from my fingers this morning. And while I am glad my reflections and ruminations nudged me this way, it is too big a topic to dive too deeply into on this late-May day.
So, I am going to put this dive into the depths on hold for now, and save my breath for when I have more time and energy to fully formulate my thinking. I have a lot to say about rubrics. I have a lot to say about relationships. I have a lot to say about learning. But not now. Too fast, too soon.
Gonna be a slow stroll into a fast game this morning. Lots to do on this short week as we wrap up the writing with our “This Is Me” projects. So, though my stroll may be slow coming off a long Memorial Day weekend, I will have to quickly pick up the pace as a flood of writing comes in for feedback.
Fortunately, I have streamlined the process and most of the feedback will be oral. It seems I can get more done in a 3-minute conversation than I can in a 10-minute solo read-and-write. Still, with the finish line in sight, it will be a big week for all of us in 206. As such, I will try to keep the stress to a minimum for the kids as we make our way through what remains in the race. And we will make our way. We always do. Together, we will cross the finish line.
Good morning, everyone. This morning I am going to share Erin Gaudet’s open letter to me on her blog (https://middleschoolexploration.blogspot.com/). Thank you, Erin, for you kind words of support. Thank you for this morning’s inspiration.
In response to a call for inspiration, I am writing this open letter. Thanks for the inspiration, Monte!
Hi Monte,
I’ve been greatly inspired this year by your blog/Twitter feed (I’m @MadameGaudet), by your insistence on finding a better way, and by your genuine care for all of your students. I’ve been teaching for 15 years now, and it’s nice to know I’m not alone in the struggles I have with grades vs student ownership, and in my focus on community and connection building first and curriculum only after that.
If you’re still feeling like you need some inspiration for your blog as the year winds down : Who are your “go-to” people either online or in person for inspiration and/or help navigating these changes? What benefit do you get from hashing out ideas with people in your own school vs online connections? How does blogging enter into your attempts to do better? I am a middle school teacher, so grades in the traditional sense “don’t matter” as much as they might in high school. I still find my students are so hung up on the grade that they neglect the learning when they start with me at the beginning of the year. By this time of year, they are more willing to take chances, and embrace experiences. I worry that when I send them off to high school this openness and commitment to learning will fall by the wayside with teachers who focus predominantly on compliance. This is not to say that the high school teachers at my students next school are not wonderful teachers, who truly care about their students. I know that many of them struggle with the same questions that I have surrounding relationship building and grading practices. However, as an institution, high school has a more grades-based focus than I do in my classroom. I hope that I’ve given my students enough of a taste for learning, for self-motivation, for curiosity, for compassion, and for questioning that they will maintain those qualities in the face of what high school will throw at them.
My Go-to Peeps and Tweeps
In person, my colleague and grade-level partner Jenna Tamura has been and continues to be my sounding board. She daily has to listen to my mad musings as I chase and change. In constant flux, I imagine I am not easy to follow, for I sometimes daily change course. And she patiently follows my crazy, but she also keeps me grounded, helping me capture all the things I float, ensuring that we actually do something. Importantly, we both experiment with grading and community building and have the invaluable opportunity to do, reflect, and do better together.
I also have a live-in go-to, my lovely wife who is a middle school art teacher. She is my always-and-forever witness, and we talk a great deal about our practice, but we talk even more about our kids who first had her and now have me. Most mornings as we get ready for school, side by side, we talk shop…well, really, we talk kids. She is the best teacher I know.
Online, my biggest go-to’s in terms of finding inspiration and confidence have been all the folks associated with Teachers Going Gradeless (@TG2Chat). In particular, Aaron Blackwelder (@AaronSBlackwel1) and Abe Moore (@Arbay38) have been instrumental in my growth along the gradeless path. Of course, there are many more to mention, but Twitter in general has played a huge role in my growth over the last three years. Can’t imagine a world without it now. It has revealed to me a world full of like-minded teachers who share the same dreams and struggles on their own journeys to better education. It gives us an intimate look into other teachers’ classrooms from all over the world. I wish it had been around earlier in my career.
Blogging
My morning habit. I think this is my 754th post. For three and a half years now, I have been sitting here at the screen reflecting and ruminating about education. As one who is by nature reflective, it has not only been an important outlet for my head too full, but it has also helped me walk my talk: Do. Reflect. Do Better. And though I just recently shared my waning motivation, which led to your stepping in and giving me a boost, I cannot imagine ever fully walking away from my daily habit. And when I discover that my morning musings inspire and help others, it makes it even less likely that I will quit that which I have come to love. Thank you, Erin, for letting me know that it matters.
GRRRRRRRRRades.
Yes. They get in the way. And they are stubborn little buggers, who despite our earnest efforts to shoo them away, they cling, they stick. In truth, they suck. This is where my work began and really continues. How do we get grades out of the way of learning? This is still my driving question as I seek to better the learning experiences for my kids.
And this is where I think your work to de-emphasize grades in your classroom is vital, Erin. My dream, from the work we are doing, is that we ultimately empower kids to expect–to demand–more from their education. I want to believe that, though it may never fully come to fruition during our careers, we are helping shape a mindset for future generations who’ve come to realize the folly of the grade game and come to demand more, to demand better for their kids.
Please keep fighting the good fight at the middle level. I think it is the perfect place for the type of change we are trying to bring about, for as you said, grades really don’t matter at the middle level, and also as you suggested, they are given way too much importance at the high school level. We can change that. We are changing that. Thank you for doing the hard but good work. We are not alone. I hope that helps you to know that. It has helped me. It helps me to know that there is someone in Nova Scotia, Canada right now on a similar path. So thank you, Erin. Thank you for being out here with me. It matters.
This morning I am going to highlight and respond to a comment from reader Steph Irwin. Thank you, Steph, for giving me some food for thought.
Hello, Sy. I’d like to thank you for sharing your classroom experiences on your blog. I happened upon it earlier this school year after reading about you on the Upworthy website. I’ve read your blog faithfully since then, sometimes reacting with skepticism, sometimes reacting with awe. At the heart of all you do IS your heart, and for me, that is most impressive.
A nagging wondering I always have as I read…what are the naysayers like in your world? They must be in your building. How are you supported by your administration? How about those kids that I envision would welcome a chance to NOT have to participate or complete assigned work? Do most of them come around at some point in the year and own it?
I’ve finished a year with a junior class that came in with a reputation for apathy and a weak work ethic. This proved to be true, in many instances, no matter how hard I tried to inspire them. I’m ending the year somewhat discouraged, thinking I need to make some changes in myself instead of expecting so many changes in them. But I don’t know, and as a 30 year veteran of the classroom I’m not sure where to begin. So I decided I’ll start with my own version of Smiles and Frowns next year, a small start to what could turn into something big. I’ll keep you posted, and I’ll keep reading about your classroom journey. Thank you for opening your classroom door to the rest of us. You can’t walk in the room unless the door is open. Steph Irwin Sandy Valley High School Magnolia, OH
Naysayers
Yes, of course, I have some naysayers in my neck of the woods, but not as many as I thought I might. In truth, as I set out on my first year I not only expected it, but I also welcomed it. My thinking was that by doing things radically differently I would ensure a “coming-to-the-table” moment around the topic of grading practices. I wanted to get out in the open some “truths” about the what, why, and how of our myriad approaches. But, it never happened. And I’m not sure why. In that most radical of years, only one parent challenged me (but I think now she would have challenged me, no matter what I did). No one else, at least not publicly, has really challenged me.
And that includes administration. They have been supportive. Of course, I largely attribute that to my being transparent and communicative about my work. And I think, Steph, that has led to if not my success then at least my “minimal failure” with stakeholders: communication. I work “overtime,” especially early in the year, to communicate my approach with students and parents. Yes, the year always begins with skeptics–always–but I have had some success with bringing them around to if not believing in what I am doing to at least seeing what I am doing.
Of late, which is not really connected to grading as much as culture in the 180 classroom, I have caught wind of some of my colleagues in the building criticizing what I am doing, claiming kids “only like me because I am easy.” Sadly, they unprofessionally express such things publicly to our shared students, and of course the kids tell me. I shrug it off. I have half a mind to invite them to my classroom, so they can see what we’re about in room 206. I am not so sure they would reciprocate. My door is literally and figuratively always open. And anyone, supporter or critic, is always welcome.
Kids Will Be Kids
Really, people will be people. If there is an easy route, then there is always the urge to follow it. In the 180 classroom with neither stick nor carrot to push or pull them down the path, I have to rely on commitment. Does that mean, then, that some kids never quite get there, never quite commit? Of course. But that was true in my compliance classroom of old, too. And that is why I subscribe to the belief that kids will either do the work or they won’t do the work. And, of course, “doing” is matter of perception. Two summers ago, I wrote about the different “do’s” in the classroom, in a post I called, “The Dilemma of Do.” (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/the-dilemma-of-do/). I know it seems out-of-hand and dismissive to accept that some kids just won’t do the work, but it’s been my truth for 23 years now, and it has fueled my belief that I provide opportunity and support. The “do” is up to them.
Does that mean that I just turn my cheek and let them do nothing? No, certainly not. I use my relationships with them to encourage them to make the most of the opportunity and support that I provide. And for a great many this works. But for some–sadly–we never get there. I have come to accept that.
Smiles and Frowns
I’m sorry that you are ending your year a bit discouraged. I can relate. In fact, I, too, am ending with some discouragement, seems I always do. And even though I seem to be talking a big game up above with my “what-will-be-will-be” attitude about student motivation, it always cuts and I am “wounded” when I can’t reach a kid. But of late, with the implementation of Smiles and Frowns over the last two years, my “unreachables” have diminished dramatically.
As I have offered a number of times recently, Smiles and Frowns is the best decision I have ever made. And I stand firmly by that. I have never had such strong connections with kids before. So, I am heartened to hear that you are considering using it in your own classroom next year–in your own way. I think that is key. You have to use it in a way that best fits you and your classroom. I think you will find the impact significant. And, yes please, keep me posted. I would love to hear how it’s going.
Well, Steph. I hope this post helps a bit. I appreciate your sending some wonders and questions my way. I also appreciate your faithful readership. Please feel free to reach out in the future. I’m always happy to help and share.
Sensing my faltering, waning energy and effort from yesterday’s post, friend and colleague Dr. Chris Valeo, a professor of English at Eastern Washington University, threw me a lifeline, suggesting that my readers could help by sending some questions my way.
“Good morning, Sy! Would it help to have questions/wonderings from your reading faithful as you start to reflect in a wrap-up-this-year kind of way? It wouldn’t mean that you had to answer all — or any! It would be more that all of us who have been benefiting from the public thinking you’ve been doing could share a thought or two that might offer inspiration or momentum.”
I readily jumped at the opportunity, encouraging her to send some wonderings/questions. She did. Here’s one that caught my attention this morning.
“Do you see the past three years as part of one arc or as three separate efforts to innovate?”
Though each year has been a distinct journey, they all stem from the same place. So, with that, I would have to offer that they are all indeed part of one arc: giving students ownership of their learning.
Year One
Give ’em all an A. And I did. As my faithful know–as you know, Chris–I literally handed a wooden A to each kid as they walked through the door on day one. I made a 150 of them that summer. I wanted the gesture to be symbolic as I told them they had an A for the entire year. No matter what. At the end of each term, regardless of what they did or didn’t do, they would find an A on their transcripts.
The idea was to take grades off the table, so we could focus on learning, on learners. And we did. It remains the most authentic year I have ever experienced as a teacher. But despite the authentic learning experiences we created, I changed my approach the next year.
Year Two
Select-and-Support. For a number of my kids, the give-’em-an-A approach was a leap too far. It was so different from what they were used to, and I felt that I had heaped too much ownership on their shoulders, so I sought a middle ground. I still wanted ownership to be the focus, but I wanted to provide an easier transition into ownership. So, after making some connections via Twitter with other teachers around the world who were experimenting with taking grading off the table, I devised a select-and-support approach. Basically, the kids would come to the table at the end of the term with a self-selected grade and evidence to support it.
This approach seemed to make the transition easier for kids. Looking back, I’m not sure it created the same level of ownership as the previous year, but it still de-emphasized grading and thus more greatly emphasized learning.
Of course, in year two, I was also trying to create an easier transition for fellow teachers who were interested in what I was doing but were not ready or willing to leap so far as to give all kids an A. But they felt they could rally around the select-and-support approach, and they did. Jenna Tamura and Madeline Alderete, my grade-level partners, made the jump. I was not alone. And this was of significance going into year two, for year one was a lonely venture.
Year Three
Something’s gotta change. Year three began much the same as year two with select-and-support. I liked the approach well enough to continue it this year, but if I am honest, I began to fall out of love with it by mid-year. Oh, I still like the ownership it creates for kids, but I felt like something was still holding them back. They weren’t as invested as I’d like to them to be, and I began to feel tuggings from year one, as I remembered the feeling of kids’ having genuine ownership of their learning. And I had an aha moment.
It was not necessarily a new revelation, for it had been lingering for some time. It was more that the idea had been lying dormant, waiting for the right conditions to come out into the open. Recently, I wrote about my revelation of going with a “feedback-only” classroom next year in my post, “Chasing Better: Dreams of a Feedback-Only Classroom” (http://www.letschangeeducation.com/chasing-better-dreams-of-a-feedback-only-classroom/).
As I wrote in the post, critiquing my “performance-learning” approach, numbers were still getting in the way of student ownership, still getting in the way of learning. So, I have decided to focus on feedback only next year. I have continued to ponder and process how this will all work, and I am pleased with what I have come up with, but I am not ready to reveal it all yet. I will do so this summer as I begin to set the stage for year four in the Project 180 classroom.
Points Converge
So, yes, one arc, Chris. All things led to here, where I think I wanted to be, where I think I jumped in three years ago, but I did not have the knowledge to keep it afloat. Funny how I keep living the circle, running the cycle, going back to where I started. But I think that’s how it has to be. I think that’s learning. I think that’s the embodiment of my mantra: Do. Reflect. Do Better. The wheels keep turnin’.
Thank you, Chris. Thank you for helping this old guy find some momentum as he limps towards the finish line. Thank you.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing as writers.
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Wednesday, all. If any other readers out there want to send some wonderings/questions my way, I’d appreciate it. You can comment here or send me an email: montesyrie@gmail.com.
Hope it’s just the end of the year catching up with me. Hope it’s just a lack of energy. I hope.
Hope it’s not that I am losing my desire to blog every morning. Hope it’s not that I have spent all that I have to spend over the last three years. I hope it’s not.
But, if I am honest, for the last little bit, it’s been harder and harder to post every morning. I sit here staring at the screen for longer than I’d like, hoping to find my morning muse, but she presents herself less lately. Not sure what’s going on, exactly, but something is.
Maybe I am evolving. Maybe I am caught between two selves as I shed my last better to take on my next, waiting for that full 180-degree turn, short by 17 degrees. Maybe.
From day one, Project 180 has been about turning myself upside down so I would have to right myself and find my feet again. So, maybe it’s that. I have not quite completed the turn, and as I am already eager to jump ahead with my “next better” for a new year, I am just stuck inside. Maybe.
Of course, by now, you’d think I’d know better. You’d think I’d know better than to wish away the day, hoping for tomorrow. And, I suppose, on some level I do know better, but I keep doing it anyway, and I don’t know why I’d expect it to be any different on year 23. It’s not. I can “see it,” so I want to chase it.
To be sure, I am looking forward to implementing my plans for a feedback-only classroom next year. It’s beauty beckons, but it will have to wait. I still have this year to finish. I can’t be chasing shiny new things just yet.
Oh, the curse of always chasing better. Maybe my immediate, “next better” needs to be my becoming better at just living in the moment, noting the view on the outside, but honoring what yet remains on the inside.
Ryan, emotional, somewhere between laughing and crying, tears flowing, “Everyone was so kind.”
As I shared on Friday, we did Community Circle a bit differently this time. Instead of going around the circle and discussing various topics, we just put our names in the center of a page and passed it around. We added a personal message to everyone’s page, and by the end of the period, we all had a page full of comments from our classroom community.
The goal was to show the depth of the connections we’ve created this semester, this year by being able to write a personalized message for our classmates. and while I did not have time to read them all as the papers made their way around the room and I added my own message to each, those I did read made me incredibly proud of the young people with whom I have shared life the past 162 days. It’s no wonder Ryan was cryin’. It mattered deeply to him. It matters deeply to me. Connections matter. Deeply.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…reconnecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…growing as writers as we continue planning, drafting, revising, and publishing pieces.
…reflecting in our Journey Journals.
…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.
Happy Monday, all. Off to meet one of my eduheroes for an early breakfast. Share more tomorrow.
I know. I know. I know I talk a lot about Smiles and Frowns. But I can’t help it. It’s such a huge part of the 180 experience. My first “self-standard” is that in my room I want kids to feel connected, even after they leave. Sometimes, sadly, they leave sooner than the end of the year. Ez is leaving us early. She and her family are moving back to California, and as a testament to the connections created through Smiles and Frowns, she wrote and delivered this farewell letter to our 5th period community.
This makes me so happy. Oh, I am sad–super sad–that Ez is leaving, but I am proud of what we have accomplished as a community this year. Connections matter.
Of course, I am also proud that all my talk about Smiles and Frowns is spreading. I know of a dozen teachers near and far (Australian Abe M.) who have made it a part of their daily routine–and at least a dozen more who are planning on using it next year. And it may get bigger yet as Teacher 2 Teacher boosted it on their platform by running a piece on it after interviewing me last month.
Their reach is both far and wide, and it is my earnest hope that other educators see and consider the impact of such a practice on their classroom cultures. Of course, I didn’t invent this. Others also use such practices under different names: peaks and valleys, happies and crappies, roses and thorns, and a new name from nearby Rachael K., “Howls and Growls.” Nothing “new” in room 206, but I think the difference may be my commitment to making it a daily practice (for two-full years now), to making it THE priority every day, no matter what, for as I shared with the folks at T2T, it is the most important time investment I have ever made. Ever. And I think with testimonies such as Ez’s, it’s an investment that pays dividends long into the future.
A huge thank you to Teacher 2 Teacher for sharing Smiles and Frowns with a larger audience.
Today’s Trail
Along today’s trail we will experience…
…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.
…building deeper connections through Community Circle (supposed to happen on the first Friday of each month, but we’re behind. Today’s circle will be a little different. I will share about it on Monday).
