Discovery

My wife is a genius.

Really. The things that she comes up with to do with our two boys blows my mind. She creates these amazing projects and activities that throw fuel on their fire of awe, wonder, and amazement of the world around them.

One activity in particular stands out to me from this winter. It was an especially hard winter of cold, and snow, snow, snow. My oldest son was knee deep in an obsession with pirates, treasure, and maps. My wife took out our ice cube trays one night, put drops of food coloring in each of the little sections, filled it with water, and put it in the freezer overnight.

The next morning we had a set of "ice gems." I went out back, dug holes in the snow, buried an ice gem in each hole, and then marked the spot with an "X" made by a spray bottle filled with colored water.

We then gave Eli and Sam a shovel and bucket, and told them there was treasure buried in the snow. What ensued was incredible. They were so excited to combine their passion for digging (yes, that can indeed be a passion) and playing in the snow. Their smiles lit up their faces. Eli's eyes shone as he called out, "I found another one!" They filled their buckets with beautiful ice gems of yellow, blue, red, and green.

The gems themselves were cool looking, but I believe had we just handed them to the boys straight from the freezer, they would have lost interest after a short time. Instead, it was an activity that lasted close to an hour, which, for those of you with children 5 and younger know, is an eternity.

What was the difference? Why did this bring so much joy? Why did they stay engaged for so long?

They got to dig. They got to trudge through the snow. They got to explore.

They got to discover.

This is the childhood I want for my boys. For them to be given multiple opportunities to discover, explore, question, tinker, experiment, fail, succeed.

I want the same for my students.

I believe that the most important thing to do in a classroom of learners is to create the conditions for authentic and organic growth. I believe that it all begins with me letting go of the need to control and lead, and allow my students the freedom to discover. Just like with my boys, I can guide them, I can give clues as to where those ice gems are buried, I can give them the tools, but the most important thing to give them is the ability to explore and discover on their own.

This freedom to discover is in direct opposition with a culture that more and more wants to cram students into boxes that are easily labeled, sorted, weighed, and distributed. I see this happening all around me and it saddens me.

But I have also seen firsthand what happens when you give students the freedom to explore and discover. My students are in the third month of exploring and discovering the importance of and crisis facing honeybees. They have poured enormous amounts of effort and time into learning all that they can about the topic. They have read. They have researched. They have interviewed master beekeepers. They have watched documentaries. They have given presentations to our superintendent, school committee, members of the Wells Reserve National Estuarine Research facility, as well as our entire staff of teachers. They are assembling beehives that we purchased to place at the Wells Reserve. They are learning about beekeeping and how to create the conditions for growth for the bees. They are expanding their presentation to bring to local elementary schools, libraries, Rotary clubs, and any place that will have us. And it was all their idea.

They are engaged.

They are learning.

They are growing.

They are owning their education.

They are exploring and discovering.

It is absolutely amazing to witness.

A plan for a wonderful learning environment...

(In honor of National Poetry Month)


If we should pass in the hall,
please do not ask if I'm having a good day,
to which I will respond with, "Good, and you?"

     Instead, ask me if I inspired someone today.


If we should pass in the hall,
please do not ask if I had a good weekend.
I'll only respond with, "It was great. How about you?"

     Instead, ask me what I did that brought joy to my life and restored my soul.


If we should pass in the hall,
please do not ask if it's Friday yet.
I'll just say, "Not yet," and start to wish time away.

     Instead, ask me what I've got planned that will engage my students
     for the rest of the week.


If we should pass in the hall,
please do not ask me how many days until vacation.
I'll say I don't really know. Because I don't.

     Instead, ask me if I challenged someone's thinking today.


If we should pass in the hall,
please do not roll your eyes and make a comment about "kids."
I will only roll my eyes and make a comment about people that roll their eyes about "kids."

     Instead, give me a smile that encourages me to keep going strong.


If we should pass in the hall,
please do not tell me how frustrated you are with a student.
I will only get dragged down too.

     Instead, tell me how you offered grace and a fresh start to someone who desperately needed it.


If we should pass in the hall,
please do not ask if I heard about such-and-such.
If I needed to, I probably would have.

Instead, tell me a story about a student who showed immense courage and compassion.


If we should pass in the hall,
please do not hide what you really need to talk to me about.
Because we will probably never talk about it.

Instead, pull me aside and share what's on your mind. I promise I'll listen.


If we should pass in the hall,

     encourage me,
     challenge me,
     inspire me,
     help me,
     support me.

And I will do everything that I can to do the same for you.

Shifting Focus

Remember those 3-D Magic Eye posters? You know, the ones that everyone was going crazy about because they could see a panda riding a unicycle or something in the midst of the weirdo colors and designs, and you lied and said you could see it too?

Yeah. Those.

It is really easy to look at them and see the wavy lines, the different colors, and the crazy designs. It is tempting to count lines, colors, and patterns. You can describe a lot and spend an awful lot of time and energy looking at the surface.

But if you take your time, and completely change how and where you are focussed, all those lines, colors, and designs come together to show an incredible image. You are then able to see what was intended.

I think education is very similar.

I know from my own experience, though it pains me to admit it, that when I focus on teaching rather than learning, I miss the point. When I focus on delivery of content, tests, grades, checking off boxes, what's happening in other classrooms, fitting things into neat boxes that we label "Education," I get bogged down and completely miss the opportunity to see the amazing things that are right in front of me.

But when I focus on learning, I see a completely different picture. With the 3-D posters, all those lines, colors, and designs are still visible, but their purpose, their reason for existence, is to create an image that literally jumps out at you. The classroom is the same. Those things that take up so much of our time and focus, like curriculum, tests, grades, and all the other "stuff" (word chosen quite carefully by the way) should exist only to give us an image of learning. I believe that they are not meant to be our focus.

If for no other reason, they are just simply not as beautiful as the image of a student engaged in learning.

Just as there were times when I, for whatever reason, couldn't shift my eyes to see that panda on the unicycle, there have been and are times when I focus more on the teaching than the learning. It kills me to admit that even this year I have experienced times when my focus was all wrong. Usually it was in a moment of uncertainty, or fear, or doubt, when I freaked out and listened to some of the negative voices floating on the air around me, and the beautiful image of my students learning vanished. All it took was something drawing my attention from the real point of education (learning, right?) for just a moment, and I lost the whole image.

My struggle right now is holding back my frustration with those things that take my focus away from learning. That may be systems, requirements, schedules, people, philosophies. Anything that causes me to lose that beautiful image of learning. I am angry. I am frustrated.

But I am hopeful. And I just want to block everything out that doesn't matter and focus on the beautiful image that became so clear this year, of a group of students completely absorbed in their learning. I want that image to guide me, to inspire me, to challenge me.

I want to commit to keeping my focus on relevant, authentic, engaging learning, even in the midst of everything that competes for my focus.

Join me?

The Questions, The Rant, and The Path

The Questions

Though I never wrote down an official question to answer with this grand experiment, I believe that what I have been seeking to answer in my classroom this year is, "How can a teacher reignite the spark for learning that all little kids possess, but dims or is snuffed out when they enter school?" 

I have been operating under the assumption that this is not only possible, but essential in order to build success in students that struggled through most or all of their education so far. Though I never even approached the ballpark of being a scientist or psychologist, I can see two things clearly:

1) All kids possess an unbelievable sense of awe, wonder, and amazement of the world around them. (If you have kids, you know this to be true. If you do not have kids, find a 3-5 year old and count the number of questions they ask in an hour and you will be a believer.)

2) Students lose all or most of it sometime when they are in school.

I absolutely believe both of these statements to be true for the vast majority of students. In theory, school should be the greatest place on earth for kids. They get to be with or around their friends all day, get all their questions answered, and get exposed to exciting new topics or activities that will create room for more questions.

Sadly, however, the opposite is most often the case.

Why?

When does this actually happen?

Again, I am no scientist, psychologist, or pediatrician, but is there something in our biology that causes us to enter the "School Stinks" phase of our life? Is it developmental? Social? What?!

Or is it what we are doing?

Or not doing?

Or both?

The Rant

Lately I find that my attention has shifted from how to repair the damage, to why it occurred in the first place. Perhaps that is why my frustration level is so high right now.

I remember sitting in a philosophy class in college and my professor had us look out the window to where a giant maple tree was beginning its dramatic transformation from green to gold. He said that as long as we view it as a resource to consume, rather than something to enjoy and appreciate simply for its beauty, we will never solve the growing climate crisis.

I believe our students are the same. I believe there has been an increase in us seeing them first for what they can deliver for us, rather than the beauty of who they are. They become numbers, test scores, percentages to prove a teacher's effectiveness. Data points for Annual Yearly Progress.

Data.

As a result, what is best for students can often take a back seat to what is best for test scores, schedules, and comfort levels. What is easy takes the place of what is best.

My heart is sad when I reread that line, consider deleting it, then keep it because I believe it is true.

I believe that there are teachers out there that fight desperately against this mentality, and I am proud to say that I had some of them when I was a student, and work with some others now that I am a teacher. I believe that there are teachers out there that want to fight the mentality, but for a variety of reasons, are unable to do so in their classroom. Sadly, I believe that there are even some teachers out there that not only do not fight, but perpetuate that mentality.

I have seen the damage that this mentality of "Easy Instead Of Best" can do to students.

I am deeply saddened, frustrated, and outraged.

I am also, however, motivated to play my small part in the healing process.


The Path

I am currently reading Natural Beekeeping: Organic approaches to modern apiculture, by Ross Conrad. His words in the first paragraph stopped me in my tracks:
 
"Unless it feels threatened and is forced to defend itself or its hive, the bee is the only creature in the  animal kingdom, that I am aware of, that does not kill or injure any other being as it goes through its  regular life cycle...In fact, honeybees take what they need in such a way that the world around them is improved."

I not only found another wonderful reason to enjoy and appreciate beekeeping, but I saw a connection with my classroom.

The bees' very nature is to live in such a way that they not only do no harm to another living organism, but they improve the world around them.

Could I choose a path in teaching that would mirror this? To not only do no harm, but to teach in such a way that the students leave a better version of themselves.

Shouldn't this be the case for all of us in education? Shouldn't we be able to truly say that not only do we not diminish their sense of awe, wonder, and amazement, but we increase it exponentially?

I believe that we should.

Regardless of what legislation is or is not passed, regardless of what is happening in other classrooms, regardless of what is easiest for schedules and testing, regardless of what my budget is, regardless of what path others choose, I want to choose the path that leads to what is best for students.

I know that I stumble, I know that I fall, I know that I get distracted by shortcuts promising an easier journey. I know that I am not always the best version of who I can be. But I get up, brush myself off, and press on with the hope that I can somehow make a difference in the lives of my students.

Thank you Mr. Towne, Mr. Lewia, Mr. Ballou, and Mrs. Harvey, to name only a few, for choosing what was best for me over what was easiest for you.

Loosening My Grip

In 48 hours, my students will go before our superintendent and present their project proposal.

Guess how I'm feeling.

In so many ways this presentation is not just about getting the green light for our service learning project. It is about us showing what we've done. It is about trying to communicate that this program is working. It is about these students showing that their engagement goes up when they take ownership of their learning. It is about them showing that they have indeed risen from the ashes as something better.

That is an awful lot to have riding on one presentation.

My biggest struggle right now? Letting go of my need to control, fix, and perfect. Giving my students the freedom to own their learning and to study things that really interest them has been one of the most rewarding and challenging things I've done. I absolutely believe to the core of my being that I need to not only encourage but also assist in busting students out of the boxes in which school has jammed them. They need the freedom to explore, discover, experiment, succeed, and, at times, fail. They need for me to throw heaps and heaps of fuel on the embers of the former fire for learning they possessed as young kids. They need to be invited to become players in their education, not audience members. They need to be encouraged to become better critical thinkers, not task-doers.

But, this is messy. This is beautiful.

This is hard for someone who likes plans, routine, and control.

As I walk around the room days before the presentation, I want desperately to wordsmith vision statements, clean up Keynote slides, nitpick body language, and organize spreadsheets. I want a slick presentation that will leave our superintendent with her jaw on the floor.

I want it to reflect well on me.

There. I said it. I want to look good. I want it to look like I know what I'm doing. It kills me to admit it. But it's true. Perhaps that is where a lot of the tension is coming from. Wishing there was not as much brokenness in me, but recognizing that there is.

I need to let go. I need to get my head right.

So today, less than 48 hours from when my students will present, I let go of my need to look good. I remind myself that it is not my class. It is my students'. I remind myself that authentic and organic is often not shiny or sparkly, but of much greater value. I remind myself that I love these students unconditionally. Grace, not outcomes. I remind myself that they have already shown me how extraordinary they are.

I remind myself that they are no longer defined by what they did last year, or even what they are doing now. They are defined simply by who they are.

To OOTA, I am sorry there was ever any hint of me wanting to look good as a result of your hard work. Please forgive me. I am in your corner, cheering you on like crazy, and I believe in you. This is about you, your hard work, and making sure you get all the credit you absolutely deserve.

You are amazing.

Support And A Shot Of B-12

I've gone back and read my last post several times and sighed.

I was and am frustrated and even a bit embarrassed that I am so worn. However, as I have been open and honest with the state of my head and heart, there are those that have come around me and given me some much needed support and encouragement.

My assistant principal has been a tremendous advocate for me and what is happening in my classroom. When I sent an SOS email to him, he responded very quickly with a list of things for me to do, most of which were focussed on caring for myself and doing things to breathe some life into me. His counsel, listening ear, and never-ceasing support have been an enormous encouragement for me since he and I sat in his office last January saying, "Wouldn't it be cool if school were..." which led to this grand experiment.

Our school social worker has worked very closely with me this year making sure that the students are successful in every way possible. What started out as me sharing a concern about a student quickly turned into a full-blown therapy session with me spilling my guts to her about the weight I was feeling on my shoulders. She sat and listened. And listened. And listened. Her words of advice and encouragement meant the world to me and allowed me to leave her office feeling a bit lighter than when I walked in.

To say that my wife has helped me through this time and so many others is as much of an understatement as saying, "Breathing is kind of important." Her support, her patience, her friendship, her willingness to put the boys to bed to give me a few hours to get schoolwork done, her amazing ability to sit and listen to me verbally process for seemingly hours on end, her unfailing love, her tremendous heart, and her unceasing ability to extend her husband grace is much more than I deserve. She has reminded me constantly where peace and joy may be found, and how to release the heavy burden I try to carry with my own strength.

Sometimes it takes being worn to truly see just how much the people around you impact your life to its very core.

And of course there are my students.

To say that I have been invigorated by their engagement and excitement in the past few weeks is a gross understatement. They took it upon themselves to adopt a new project based on educating others about the importance of and current crisis facing honeybees. I was absolutely blown away as my students formed groups themselves based on their individual interests and learning styles. They have worked harder in the past few weeks than I have seen all year. They are calling experts, researching multiple topics, and organizing their time, all with the goal of creating a presentation to give to our superintendent that gives an overview of their project. Students who once struggled with staying focussed in class are now emailing a variety of vendors trying to get the best deal on honey sticks for a fund raiser. Students who struggled with having their heads down for a chunk of class are researching, comparing, and contrasting different races of bees and determining what will be best for our observation hive. Students who struggled with talking in class are creating a blog and social media campaign to get the word out about our project. Students terrified of bees are studying pollination in flowers and how to plant a garden with different flowers so that something is always blooming for the bees. Several students formed a treasury department team and have crunched numbers, researched different vendors, and made tough decisions in order to minimize the amount we have to fundraise to get this off the ground. Students formed marketing teams to research how we could both get our message out to the public and do so in a fun and creative way. Students have worked together to assemble all the data and research gathered by their classmates and put condensed it down into a well-organized and engaging Keynote.

And they did it all themselves.

And I didn't plan for any of this.

Our Essential Question that the students created for their latest project is "How do living and non-living organisms interact with their environment?" All I intended was to bring in my beekeeping equipment and talk to them about bees for the day, showing one way that I interact with my environment.

Then things just blew up.

In an amazingly beautiful way.

These past two weeks are exactly what I pictured this time last year as I lay in bed in the middle of the night dreaming about what school could be. As I lay there wondering how I could create an environment that would throw tons of fuel onto the fire of wonder, awe, and amazement that is deep within us all, these past few weeks is exactly what I dreamed would happen.

My students are owning their learning. They are working together. They are working independently. They are stepping out of their comfort zones. They are trying new things. They are engaged. They are driving this thing. They own it.

And it has lifted me up from where I had fallen, breathed life into me, and makes me so excited to see what the next day will hold.

Feeling the Strain

I keep putting this off.

"I've gotta plan for tomorrow."
"I've got to give feedback and assess those essays."
"I need to pack more boxes (our house is on the market)."
"I. Am. Exhausted."

All of those are, I think, terribly accurate and acceptable reasons why I haven't posted a blog in a while. We wrapped up a large project recently about who we are as learners. It was incredible to see the students delve deeply into how they think and learn best. It has been jaw-dropping to watch these presentations where they take their learning styles, interests, abilities, and intelligences and actually use them all to produce something for school. Now we are moving on to the project that I spent the better part of the summer planning, outlining, and thinking about.

So what's the problem?

I'm exhausted.

My brain has been in creation mode for a year now about what this class could look like. I have spent hours upon hours examining my practice and thinking of ways that I could change my assignments, delivery, expectations, feedback and everything else to maximize my effectiveness for each individual student with unique needs and abilities.

In September, I shifted from the theoretical to the actual. Now I have actual students, all with unique backgrounds, interests, and abilities, all of whom need something different in order to become the best learners that they can. They are all in a different place in regards to their thoughts about school, themselves, their family, and everything else. All of which directly impacts the way they interact in class.

Tweaking and overhauling is the business I am in.

But I am feeling the strain.

On top of being tired from creating, tweaking, and overhauling, I find that I am second guessing myself. Perhaps that is what is the largest burden right now. In the beginning, I was so pumped full of adrenaline for being able to stage my own educational revolution in my classroom, that I did not spend much energy being self-conscience or fearful. That has changed. For whatever reason, the voice of the critics that have been present from the beginning are now beginning to sound much louder to me. I do not believe that their volume has increased, I think it is something within me that has caused me to notice it more. What's more, I think there are times when I am actually imagining the sounds. Some of those voices have not only quieted, but have actually begun to say positive things about what is happening in my class. So what's my issue? Why do I live in fear right now of having to stand in front of a tribunal and answer for every second of teaching I have done?

I really do not know. I believe with every cell in me that the direction in which I have taken my students is the right direction. I also believe that there has been enough time that has passed where I now have my own little collection of mistakes, ranging in size from tiny up to gargantuan, and I need to analyze those mistakes to determine how I can learn from them. It is no longer theoretical. It is no longer a cool conversation to have with someone over dinner. It is real. It is messy. It is beautiful. I find I am spending a significant amount time looking back on what I should have done to avoid those mistakes. I then start thinking about how I will do things differently in the future. Both of those are fine to a degree, but it can become quite exhausting and distract from applying the lessons to the present.

This is the part where I bring it all together in some deep way and make myself feel much better.

(Crickets chirping for several minutes.)

There. That's better.

Except, it's not.

I do not know what the answer is, but this is what I am going to try.

I am going to try to let go more. Give more control to my students. Allow their creativity and interests to guide us more.   I am going to try to give more opportunities for growth to occur in my class. I am going to try to give myself a break. This is not a perfect classroom and it never will be. I am not a perfect teacher and never will be. That's ok, and I need to be ok with it. I am going to try to spend more time doing things that I love doing, without trying to turn it into a lesson. I just want to experience that joy in the moment when I am playing with my kids, spending time with my wife, cutting wood in my woodshop, or whatever else it may be. If it turns into a lesson, great. No more forcing. I am going to try to be more patient. First with myself, and then with all those around me. I am going to rest. Not everything will be cleared off of my to-do list for today. If you're ok with that, than so am I.

Will any or all of this work?

I hope...