Two nights ago I attended my son and daughter’s piano recital.  As they each faced the anxiety of performing in front of a crowd, I shared in their anxious moments, hoping for their sake, for their well-being that they performed well and were personally pleased with their performances. After all, they had worked hard for their moments, and my wife and I want them to understand the truth in hard work. As they performed, I leaned in as if my leaning somehow brought me closer to their moment, adding my strength to theirs.  And as I leaned, I watched, surveying the crowd for their reaction to my children’s hard work, seeing if they too were held in the same moment as I, marveling at the magic of work done well by youth.  And assuredly, they were.  We all were, and after the anxious moments were over, I reveled in their work, grateful that I was able to be a witness. And while it is hard to fully equate the pride I feel for my own children to the pride I feel for my students, it is not a completely dissimilar feeling.

Yesterday, as our project presentations resumed in room 219, I found myself lost in more anxious moments, surveying the crowd, leaning in to give my strength,  marveling at work done well.  In particular, one such moment came during my student Kasia’s presentation when she shared her product, a video she made to demonstrate what she learned about why we fall victim to brain and body teasers, which she has graciously granted me permission to share with you through this link.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fAo4UJqTc2U  After hours of work (those who have ever made movies know) and a major obstacle (it wouldn’t play the day before on my computer), Kasia was able to shine in her moment, and we were able to share it with her.  And it was truly her moment.  I can take no credit for it. She learned, worked, persevered, and succeeded on her own.  All I did was give her an opportunity.  That’s it.  And as we round out the presentations over the next two days, I look forward to leaning in and marveling at the wonder of my students’ hard work. Thank you for the moment, Kasia.  Thank you all for the moments.

I’d like to begin the morning with saying happy birthday to my dad who passed away in February 2006.  Happy Birthday, Dad.

Back to the classroom.  So, as it happens, after all my scrambling and anxious anticipation to present my blog to my students yesterday, I never got the chance.  We drew cards, and mine never got drawn.  So, instead, I watched and I learned.  I watched kids share their genuine interests through their topics, ranging from “Why do we dream?” to “How to make the best pie crust” to “Do mermaids exist?”  No, not the most academic pursuits, but they were their pursuits, and that was the point.  I watched kids both struggle and shine on the stage as they confronted the very-real fear of public speaking. But, I watched, too, as they settled in and and eventually got lost in the moment, finally relaxing and simply sharing their interests and passions.  I watched kids beam with pride as they shared carefully and cleverly crafted projects with their peers.  And finally, I watched kids reflect on the process of their projects, and this is where I believe I truly learned about their learning.

Nearly to a kid, as my students reflected on their projects, they intimated, in one way or another, their discomfort with the process, and while I believe many of them worried that I would take offense at such remarks, their fears were misplaced, for I was not offended.  I anticipated and appreciated their candid remarks, mostly aimed at the uncertainty of knowing what to do when placed in the driver’s seat of their own learning, seeming to seek instead the comfort of what has been the default setting in most classrooms–teacher-led learning.  Of course, that is not to say that teacher-led learning is somehow wrong or unnecessary–we have to lead.  It is to say that we need to share the lead at times.  We need to relinquish the wheel and let the kids drive.  Yes, it’s scary.  Yes, it’s uncomfortable.  Yes, it’s different.  But it’s also necessary if our kids are going to navigate the roads of the world as we hand them the keys for good after the few, short years we have with them.

So, as I sit in the audience today, and I again watch and learn, I will relish the students’ and my discomfort with different, for I know that we grow not in comfort.  Today, I will do different.  Today, I will grow.

 

Morning, all. I am scrambling to get my independent learning project (my blog) done, so I can present along with my kids today as I promised.  I still have meta-cognitive maps and a reflection to complete.  I suspect I am probably not alone.  I imagine some of the kids are probably up, too, scrambling to get done.  Anyway, while I am excited to share my project with the kids, I am more excited to learn about their projects.  This whole independent learning thing has been a surprising challenge for them, and I will talk at length about it next month during our official launch.  For now, I am simply excited to learn what they learned.  Tell you about it tomorrow.

 

Unofficially, the blog is up and running, and I am learning a lot as I make my way through the blogging universe, but the “official launch” is set for January 1, 2016.  I have a lot of work to do before then.  Thank you for all the support and well-wishes so far.  Can’t do it without you.

After years of thinking about it and recently being challenged to complete an independent learning project with my students, I have started my own blog, a blog dedicated to changing education–one word at a time.  And while I have many words to share, I cannot do it alone.  I need your help.  Your words count.  Truly.  Let’s do it, then.  Let’s change education.