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.
Showing posts with label School reform. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School reform. Show all posts
Friday, April 11, 2014
Sunday, March 2, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
The Dream
This past week was draining in so many ways. I am formulating multiple things to write about, and this post is not about any of them. This is a quickie. My dream for what education could/should be. It hit me tonight as I thought about several of my students who are struggling with particular content areas.
This is not the whole of the dream, but merely one small aspect of what I could do to teach my students to learn and to help change lives. Both theirs, and mine.
I believe in marketing as a key strategy in my classroom. How something is pitched to the students often plays a significant role in how engaged the students are in the content. I would love to capitalize on my students' natural inquisitiveness and pitch to them that we are focussing on how stuff works: Here's how understanding other people's writing works. Here's how expressing our own opinions, ideas, frustrations, thoughts, feelings, points of view works. Here's how governments work. Here's how civilizations work. Here's how money works. Here's how numbers and data works. Here's how life systems work. Here's how our body works. Here's how the creative process works (well, that's a stretch since the creative process often takes what works and pile drives it into something new). Here's how language works, both ours and others'. Here's how communities work.
Instead of segmenting everything up into different blocks both within a schedule and within our minds, we would show that, while they are all separate cogs, here's how it all works together and here's why you are essential to keeping it all going. Here's when you're going to learn how to change things to make them work better.
If I do not impress upon my students that they do indeed have an essential role to play in the beautiful and messy synergy of it all, I will continue to see students staring out of windows or into screens looking for where they belong and why they should care.
This is not the whole of the dream, but merely one small aspect of what I could do to teach my students to learn and to help change lives. Both theirs, and mine.
I believe in marketing as a key strategy in my classroom. How something is pitched to the students often plays a significant role in how engaged the students are in the content. I would love to capitalize on my students' natural inquisitiveness and pitch to them that we are focussing on how stuff works: Here's how understanding other people's writing works. Here's how expressing our own opinions, ideas, frustrations, thoughts, feelings, points of view works. Here's how governments work. Here's how civilizations work. Here's how money works. Here's how numbers and data works. Here's how life systems work. Here's how our body works. Here's how the creative process works (well, that's a stretch since the creative process often takes what works and pile drives it into something new). Here's how language works, both ours and others'. Here's how communities work.
Instead of segmenting everything up into different blocks both within a schedule and within our minds, we would show that, while they are all separate cogs, here's how it all works together and here's why you are essential to keeping it all going. Here's when you're going to learn how to change things to make them work better.
If I do not impress upon my students that they do indeed have an essential role to play in the beautiful and messy synergy of it all, I will continue to see students staring out of windows or into screens looking for where they belong and why they should care.
Monday, October 28, 2013
A Clean Slate
One of my students came into my classroom this week clearly frustrated and struggling with a heavy burden. After a moment or so, she began to share very vague snippets of what was going on. I sat and listened for awhile and then asked her how I could help. I said that I could just listen, I could try to offer some advice, or I could tell a story from my experience. She asked me to tell her a story from my experience. When I asked what it should be about, she said, "People being mean." This is the story I told her:
When I was in sixth grade, there were three guys. Guy One was a really nice kid who happened to have some geek-like qualities. Guy Two had always been a good student and a good kid. Guy Three was an OK student and a generally good kid. The three were also a bullied kid, a bully, and an observer.
Guy One moved down the street from Guy Two's house during the summer and they became friends. They each had a brother and the four of them had a blast making up games on their bikes and chased each other all around their neighborhood.
When school started, things started to change a bit between Guy One and Two. After some time, Guy Two started teasing Guy One a bit for some of his geekiness. Good natured teasing was actually something he did a lot to friends and family, but it started to make other kids laugh. So he did it a bit more. Soon, he was teasing and making fun of Guy One nearly everyday. Things just started to snowball, and without even planning it to happen, a group formed that was all about teasing and making fun of Guy One. Guy Three was a member of that group and he laughed right along with everyone else, though he never did any direct bullying.
Eventually the dad of Guy One found out about the group and took action. He spoke to Guy Two and was quite upset about the way his son was treated. The dad reminded Guy Two how they used to be friends and wondered what happened to change that. Guy Two felt terrible, apologized to the dad and tried to explain that he wasn't even really sure how it had gotten so out of hand. He assured the dad that things would change.
Things did change.
Guy Two stopped teasing and making fun of Guy One. He apologized to Guy One who was gracious enough to offer Guy Two a clean slate. He told the people in the group that it was over. Guy Three also got to the point where he felt terrible for going along with the group and doing something he knew was not right. A few years later Guy One and Guy Two became good friends. They each had some difficult times in high school, and both of them were there for each other despite the rocky road in sixth grade. They kept in touch in college and would see each other on vacations. They even got together along with their wives when they were both living in the same town. Guy Three ended up drifting apart from both of them, though they ran into each other from time to time and caught each other up on what was happening in their lives.
When I finished, I asked her, "Now. Who am I in the story?"
"The guy being bullied."
"No."
"Were you the guy that just watched?"
"No."
She paused and stared at me for a moment.
"You were the bully?"
I silently nodded my head.
"No. I don't believe it."
I assured her that I was serious. I also shared with her that I truly felt terrible for what I did and I never intended things to go so far, they just got way out of control. I explained that while I wish that I had not acted in that way and caused so much pain, even out of that brokenness, my life changed for the better. It was after that experience that I began to seek out the marginalized or the "left-out." As a student in high school and college, as an adult in my personal life, and as a teacher, I tend to naturally gravitate towards the people on the outskirts and try my best to come along side them and let them know that they are not alone. I try to make them laugh, most often by making fun of myself in some way. In fact, even as I write this I am realizing that it was around that time when my self-deprecating sense of humor came about. I would make myself the clown and the brunt of the joke rather than others, though my wife and family can assure you that I still get in my fair share of good-natured teasing.
My students are trying desperately to navigate through a tumultuous time in their life. They are going to make a ton of mistakes, just like I did and do. The absolute least that I can do is to offer them a chance to have a clean slate. I need one as teacher, husband, and father on a daily basis. Why would I ever not extend the same grace to my students?
I reminded another student that in my class he always has a fresh start when he needs one, and he really needed one this week. He responded with, "I don't believe that." I was terribly saddened that he had such a hard time believing that. Whether it is showing them that they have a fresh start, or sharing stories of times when I have needed one, I will do all that I can to make it clear to my students that their past actions do not define who they are. I will do my best to show them that they have a chance each day to reinvent themselves.
My students, many of whom are the marginalized and "Didn't Fits" of the traditional classroom, named themselves OOTA: Out Of The Ashes. When I asked what they meant by that, one of them said, "We all used to really struggle and have a hard time in school and it was like we were burned down and in a pile of ashes. And we want to be something better."
To rise from the ashes as something better, my students need a fresh start and a clean slate, just as I did in sixth grade and today.
When I was in sixth grade, there were three guys. Guy One was a really nice kid who happened to have some geek-like qualities. Guy Two had always been a good student and a good kid. Guy Three was an OK student and a generally good kid. The three were also a bullied kid, a bully, and an observer.
Guy One moved down the street from Guy Two's house during the summer and they became friends. They each had a brother and the four of them had a blast making up games on their bikes and chased each other all around their neighborhood.
When school started, things started to change a bit between Guy One and Two. After some time, Guy Two started teasing Guy One a bit for some of his geekiness. Good natured teasing was actually something he did a lot to friends and family, but it started to make other kids laugh. So he did it a bit more. Soon, he was teasing and making fun of Guy One nearly everyday. Things just started to snowball, and without even planning it to happen, a group formed that was all about teasing and making fun of Guy One. Guy Three was a member of that group and he laughed right along with everyone else, though he never did any direct bullying.
Eventually the dad of Guy One found out about the group and took action. He spoke to Guy Two and was quite upset about the way his son was treated. The dad reminded Guy Two how they used to be friends and wondered what happened to change that. Guy Two felt terrible, apologized to the dad and tried to explain that he wasn't even really sure how it had gotten so out of hand. He assured the dad that things would change.
Things did change.
Guy Two stopped teasing and making fun of Guy One. He apologized to Guy One who was gracious enough to offer Guy Two a clean slate. He told the people in the group that it was over. Guy Three also got to the point where he felt terrible for going along with the group and doing something he knew was not right. A few years later Guy One and Guy Two became good friends. They each had some difficult times in high school, and both of them were there for each other despite the rocky road in sixth grade. They kept in touch in college and would see each other on vacations. They even got together along with their wives when they were both living in the same town. Guy Three ended up drifting apart from both of them, though they ran into each other from time to time and caught each other up on what was happening in their lives.
When I finished, I asked her, "Now. Who am I in the story?"
"The guy being bullied."
"No."
"Were you the guy that just watched?"
"No."
She paused and stared at me for a moment.
"You were the bully?"
I silently nodded my head.
"No. I don't believe it."
I assured her that I was serious. I also shared with her that I truly felt terrible for what I did and I never intended things to go so far, they just got way out of control. I explained that while I wish that I had not acted in that way and caused so much pain, even out of that brokenness, my life changed for the better. It was after that experience that I began to seek out the marginalized or the "left-out." As a student in high school and college, as an adult in my personal life, and as a teacher, I tend to naturally gravitate towards the people on the outskirts and try my best to come along side them and let them know that they are not alone. I try to make them laugh, most often by making fun of myself in some way. In fact, even as I write this I am realizing that it was around that time when my self-deprecating sense of humor came about. I would make myself the clown and the brunt of the joke rather than others, though my wife and family can assure you that I still get in my fair share of good-natured teasing.
My students are trying desperately to navigate through a tumultuous time in their life. They are going to make a ton of mistakes, just like I did and do. The absolute least that I can do is to offer them a chance to have a clean slate. I need one as teacher, husband, and father on a daily basis. Why would I ever not extend the same grace to my students?
I reminded another student that in my class he always has a fresh start when he needs one, and he really needed one this week. He responded with, "I don't believe that." I was terribly saddened that he had such a hard time believing that. Whether it is showing them that they have a fresh start, or sharing stories of times when I have needed one, I will do all that I can to make it clear to my students that their past actions do not define who they are. I will do my best to show them that they have a chance each day to reinvent themselves.
My students, many of whom are the marginalized and "Didn't Fits" of the traditional classroom, named themselves OOTA: Out Of The Ashes. When I asked what they meant by that, one of them said, "We all used to really struggle and have a hard time in school and it was like we were burned down and in a pile of ashes. And we want to be something better."
To rise from the ashes as something better, my students need a fresh start and a clean slate, just as I did in sixth grade and today.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
An Open Letter to the Creators of Standardized Tests
Dear Sirs and or Madams,
It was standardized testing week last week at my school and I have become intimately familiar with your work. I read the instructions numerous times. I passed out and collected the testing materials along with all the scrap paper, though I understand you prefer the word "scratch." I lugged the box of materials into a secure location in our building any time I was not in the room. I assisted in locating where student and school names should be written. I answered questions about duration of time and number of questions.
So far, our relationship has been very one-sided. While I am becoming more familiar with your work, you do not yet know me. In fact, there is nothing in the Answer Booklet for my students to share with you who I am, so I am doubtful that you will ever know of my existence. Soon we will be packaging all of these pages of graphite-filled bubbles and constructed responses, and you will begin what I imagine to be the arduous task of scoring said responses.
As you open the neatly packed boxes containing what represents hours of hard work from the students at my school, I wish I could be there with you. If I could, I would point out the students that I have in class and tell you about them. I would say things like, "Man, he struggled on this test. But you should see this guy talk about WWII. He knows way more than me about all the battles and the weapons and the whole nine yards." As you continue to look through test packets I may see another name and mention that that student is living with five people in his house, none of whom are full-blood relatives, and that he shows more maturity when talking about the struggles with his dad than I have ever seen in a thirteen year old. I would mention another student that lights up any time we talk about creating something. I would talk about how another student hardly ever came to school before nine o'clock last year, but this year hasn't missed a second of school. I would tell you the story of the first time one of my students shared a "Brag" at our weekly class meeting and it was to share how proud she was of her writing, despite it being such a challenge for her to get her words on paper.
I would talk about what I have seen these students do when presented with a challenging task. I would talk about the way they have pulled together to help other students who are struggling in my class. I would talk about how they have learned to work together despite all their many differences. I would show pictures of them working with each other to form groups based on interests and abilities as they create a product that will guide their learning. I would tell you stories about how some of them never shared anything in class last year and how this year they are bursting to share what they know. I would show you drawings that they have done that really should be hanging in a museum somewhere. I would talk to you about the hope that I saw in their eyes as they presented their research on Project Based Learning.
I would share with you excerpts from parent emails saying how much of a change they have seen in their son this year and how he's happy and excited to come to school. I would tell you the story of the day that my students begged for more time to write. I would show you a picture of the girl who hated writing so much in the past but has absolutely fallen in love with blogging because there is a real audience to read her excellent writing. I would share with you some of the baggage that they carry that makes it a miracle that they are even present today. I would tell you about the looks on their faces when they get the results of your tests back and they can't help but let the scores determine their self-worth.
I would not do all this to bug you or annoy you. I just didn't see a place on any of the pages to share these things with you.
Most Sincerely Yours,
Matt Coleman
Former Test-Taker
Current Lover of All Things Relevant, Flexible, Engaging, and Authentic
It was standardized testing week last week at my school and I have become intimately familiar with your work. I read the instructions numerous times. I passed out and collected the testing materials along with all the scrap paper, though I understand you prefer the word "scratch." I lugged the box of materials into a secure location in our building any time I was not in the room. I assisted in locating where student and school names should be written. I answered questions about duration of time and number of questions.
So far, our relationship has been very one-sided. While I am becoming more familiar with your work, you do not yet know me. In fact, there is nothing in the Answer Booklet for my students to share with you who I am, so I am doubtful that you will ever know of my existence. Soon we will be packaging all of these pages of graphite-filled bubbles and constructed responses, and you will begin what I imagine to be the arduous task of scoring said responses.
As you open the neatly packed boxes containing what represents hours of hard work from the students at my school, I wish I could be there with you. If I could, I would point out the students that I have in class and tell you about them. I would say things like, "Man, he struggled on this test. But you should see this guy talk about WWII. He knows way more than me about all the battles and the weapons and the whole nine yards." As you continue to look through test packets I may see another name and mention that that student is living with five people in his house, none of whom are full-blood relatives, and that he shows more maturity when talking about the struggles with his dad than I have ever seen in a thirteen year old. I would mention another student that lights up any time we talk about creating something. I would talk about how another student hardly ever came to school before nine o'clock last year, but this year hasn't missed a second of school. I would tell you the story of the first time one of my students shared a "Brag" at our weekly class meeting and it was to share how proud she was of her writing, despite it being such a challenge for her to get her words on paper.
I would talk about what I have seen these students do when presented with a challenging task. I would talk about the way they have pulled together to help other students who are struggling in my class. I would talk about how they have learned to work together despite all their many differences. I would show pictures of them working with each other to form groups based on interests and abilities as they create a product that will guide their learning. I would tell you stories about how some of them never shared anything in class last year and how this year they are bursting to share what they know. I would show you drawings that they have done that really should be hanging in a museum somewhere. I would talk to you about the hope that I saw in their eyes as they presented their research on Project Based Learning.
I would share with you excerpts from parent emails saying how much of a change they have seen in their son this year and how he's happy and excited to come to school. I would tell you the story of the day that my students begged for more time to write. I would show you a picture of the girl who hated writing so much in the past but has absolutely fallen in love with blogging because there is a real audience to read her excellent writing. I would share with you some of the baggage that they carry that makes it a miracle that they are even present today. I would tell you about the looks on their faces when they get the results of your tests back and they can't help but let the scores determine their self-worth.
I would not do all this to bug you or annoy you. I just didn't see a place on any of the pages to share these things with you.
Most Sincerely Yours,
Matt Coleman
Former Test-Taker
Current Lover of All Things Relevant, Flexible, Engaging, and Authentic
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Baggage
My family and I are leaving in two days to fly to Oklahoma to celebrate my in-laws 50th wedding anniversary. It will be wonderful to help them celebrate and it will be great to see the family.
But it makes me think about the journey there. Flying. With a 4 year old and a 17 month old.
Yikes.
Though I am not proud to admit it, I have done quite a bit of stressing about this and given a lot of thought to how we will make it through with our sanity intact. My wife and I have thought of ideas for activities to do on the plane, how we might help our little guy get out his ever-present antsiness, how we might help our oldest pass the time in a flying climate-controlled tube when he so often longs to be outside in the fresh air.
Then there's the baggage. We need clothes. We need stuff to get us (ok, mainly me and the boys) smelling nice. We need things to keep our boys busy on the plane. We need to think through weather and activity possibilities. How do we carry all of it? To check or not to check? That is indeed the question.
There are needs that my family has. There are multiple ways that we could pack the items needed to meet those needs. There are then several options for how we will carry and store it all. Carry-ons, purses, backpacks, diaper bags, checked suitcases, pockets. There are lots of options.
In the past, I have silently wished for being able to travel with nothing but a book as I feel the weight of my backpack, a diaper bag, and a suitcase all while cradling a screaming baby in the "football carry" position.
The reality is that we have baggage for a reason. Some of those things we carry are to make the destination more comfortable. Some of the baggage will make the journey more comfortable. Some of the baggage is from me trying to be prepared for every scenario leading to significant case of overpacking. Some of the baggage is from learning our lesson the hard way. Some of the baggage is essential, some of it is not. As a result of past trips, or essentials needed for this one, we may not be able to do anything about the number of bags that we carry, but how we distribute that baggage and weight can make all the difference.
I saw the same in my students this week. I saw a lot of the baggage that my students are carrying and it filled me with sorrow and even some frustration. There is baggage that just goes along with being a middle school kid. There is some baggage that no kid should ever have to carry. There is baggage that is placed on the students from events in their personal life. There is baggage placed on the students from their experience in school. There is baggage and it is weighing them down.
While there is sorrow when I see the baggage that my students attempt to carry, I am at the same time filled with hope. My hope is that we can work together to shed some of the weight. While I may not be able to remove some of the baggage, perhaps we can work together to redistribute the weight so they can stand a bit straighter.
Regardless of my frustration with my own baggage for our trip, or the sorrow and frustration of watching my students struggle under the weight of all that they carry, sometimes baggage is inevitable. I have seen in my own life this week that my own attitude and outlook can add (or less often subtract) to that weight. No matter how much I may complain or lament that the baggage is there, it does nothing to help me or my students bear the weight.
Looking ahead to this trip and to this school year, I will focus on baggage management and elimination rather than baggage lamentation. I will do my best to find ways to ease the burden for my wife and our boys, as well as my students. My family and my students deserve to see a husband, dad, and teacher spend more time trying to assist with the weight and less time moaning and groaning about its presence. I have found, but often forget, that helping bear the weight of another's burden will often bring balance and relief to the load that I carry.
Here's to helping each other bear the weight.
But it makes me think about the journey there. Flying. With a 4 year old and a 17 month old.
Yikes.
Though I am not proud to admit it, I have done quite a bit of stressing about this and given a lot of thought to how we will make it through with our sanity intact. My wife and I have thought of ideas for activities to do on the plane, how we might help our little guy get out his ever-present antsiness, how we might help our oldest pass the time in a flying climate-controlled tube when he so often longs to be outside in the fresh air.
Then there's the baggage. We need clothes. We need stuff to get us (ok, mainly me and the boys) smelling nice. We need things to keep our boys busy on the plane. We need to think through weather and activity possibilities. How do we carry all of it? To check or not to check? That is indeed the question.
There are needs that my family has. There are multiple ways that we could pack the items needed to meet those needs. There are then several options for how we will carry and store it all. Carry-ons, purses, backpacks, diaper bags, checked suitcases, pockets. There are lots of options.
In the past, I have silently wished for being able to travel with nothing but a book as I feel the weight of my backpack, a diaper bag, and a suitcase all while cradling a screaming baby in the "football carry" position.
The reality is that we have baggage for a reason. Some of those things we carry are to make the destination more comfortable. Some of the baggage will make the journey more comfortable. Some of the baggage is from me trying to be prepared for every scenario leading to significant case of overpacking. Some of the baggage is from learning our lesson the hard way. Some of the baggage is essential, some of it is not. As a result of past trips, or essentials needed for this one, we may not be able to do anything about the number of bags that we carry, but how we distribute that baggage and weight can make all the difference.
I saw the same in my students this week. I saw a lot of the baggage that my students are carrying and it filled me with sorrow and even some frustration. There is baggage that just goes along with being a middle school kid. There is some baggage that no kid should ever have to carry. There is baggage that is placed on the students from events in their personal life. There is baggage placed on the students from their experience in school. There is baggage and it is weighing them down.
While there is sorrow when I see the baggage that my students attempt to carry, I am at the same time filled with hope. My hope is that we can work together to shed some of the weight. While I may not be able to remove some of the baggage, perhaps we can work together to redistribute the weight so they can stand a bit straighter.
Regardless of my frustration with my own baggage for our trip, or the sorrow and frustration of watching my students struggle under the weight of all that they carry, sometimes baggage is inevitable. I have seen in my own life this week that my own attitude and outlook can add (or less often subtract) to that weight. No matter how much I may complain or lament that the baggage is there, it does nothing to help me or my students bear the weight.
Looking ahead to this trip and to this school year, I will focus on baggage management and elimination rather than baggage lamentation. I will do my best to find ways to ease the burden for my wife and our boys, as well as my students. My family and my students deserve to see a husband, dad, and teacher spend more time trying to assist with the weight and less time moaning and groaning about its presence. I have found, but often forget, that helping bear the weight of another's burden will often bring balance and relief to the load that I carry.
Here's to helping each other bear the weight.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
The Weight and The Relief
Confession time again. I've been feeling a significant weight on my shoulders and nearly buckled under it this week.
Confession #2: I have struggled with being an overachiever, perfectionist, and professional stresser-outer for nearly all my life. Some days or even seasons of my life are easier than others. Some days or seasons nearly crush me.
I've been feeling the crush this week.
I believe with every cell in my being that the changes that I have made and continue to make to my teaching is absolutely in the best interest of my students. Admittedly, while my intentions may be noble, the execution of some of these plans or ideas of mine do not always go that well. I've been feeling a significant weight this week as multiple fronts combine to create a wall before me.
I do not wish to go on and on about my burdens, but will say that even the things that I believe are best for students can create a significant weight on my shoulders and require an exorbitant amount of time. I was feeling that this week.
I made plans to go to bed early last night, be up and out of the house as soon as possible, and try to get caught up on all that I need to do to meet the needs of my students. Despite being woken up three times last night (once for a truck slamming into and totalling one of our cars and the hour and a half ordeal with the police (who could not have been more helpful, by the way), once when my oldest son had lost his pillow, and another time when my oldest son had a nightmare and wanted me to lay in bed with him), I was still up at 4:15 getting ready to go. I arrived at school and got a significant amount of work done. I was feeling a very miniscule portion of the weight lift, and then my students arrived.
What I witnessed today from these students made me feel as though the burden had been wrenched off my shoulders. The perspective that it gave me allowed me to see through the wall that is before me, and see the wonderful things that are happening to and in my students.
I was so proud of my students yesterday that they were able to complete three sets (of five minutes each) of absolutely silent and focussed writing. For students who view writing as many adults would view root canal surgery, this fifteen minutes was nothing short of a miracle. Afterward, they said how much easier it is to write once you get started. They said how much easier it was to write using an outline. They said how much easier it was to write after I modeled for them what writing looks like. They said how much easier it was to write when they created a custom plan for how they would use class time.
I was on top of the world, and today I realized there are a few more floors to go.
I praised them today for their hard work yesterday. We talked strategies and plans. We checked rubrics and outlines. Then we tried the five minute silent writing again.
They didn't want to stop.
They kept asking to share what they wrote.
They begged for more time writing.
Yes! I am not making this up! They begged for longer than five minutes.
I suggested seven minutes and they laughed at me.
"We want 10."
"Guys, come on. Seriously. Let's try 8."
"Give us 10 minutes. We can do it."
That's when I caved. The fact that they unanimously believed in themselves that they could accomplish this goal was an accomplishment in and of itself.
"Ok. 10 minutes."
They didn't believe it when the timer went off. They thought I cheated and only set it to eight minutes. We debriefed afterwards and talked about what went well and what could have gone better.
They started begging again.
They wanted 15 minutes of silent writing.
I was amazed. We talked about strategies for if they get stuck, or if they finish.
Then they wrote. And wrote. And wrote.
I mentioned to them beforehand that if they could actually pull this off, then I would call the principal on the phone and brag on them for a bit.
When the fifteen minutes was up, and we listened to our writing, they insisted that we bring the principal to the room so they could see his reaction. He was gracious enough to oblige, and the smile on his face as I recounted the events of the day was enormous. He then asked, "How many of you are proud of what you wrote?" Every hand shot up as though he asked "Who likes pizza?"
And the burden is gone.
Yes, I still have a ton to do. Yes, I will probably have to prioritize and let a few things go. But what I saw today in these students was extraordinary, and it deserves nothing less than my full attention.
So you have seen my therapy session for the day. I put aside everything else to write this blog and reflect on the beautiful experience I was able to stand witness to today from students who have been so disenfranchised by school.
They named themselves OOTA, Out Of The Ashes, because "we've always been burned by school and have been covered in ashes, and we want to be something better."
Today, I saw the birth of something better.
Something beautiful.
Confession #2: I have struggled with being an overachiever, perfectionist, and professional stresser-outer for nearly all my life. Some days or even seasons of my life are easier than others. Some days or seasons nearly crush me.
I've been feeling the crush this week.
I believe with every cell in my being that the changes that I have made and continue to make to my teaching is absolutely in the best interest of my students. Admittedly, while my intentions may be noble, the execution of some of these plans or ideas of mine do not always go that well. I've been feeling a significant weight this week as multiple fronts combine to create a wall before me.
I do not wish to go on and on about my burdens, but will say that even the things that I believe are best for students can create a significant weight on my shoulders and require an exorbitant amount of time. I was feeling that this week.
I made plans to go to bed early last night, be up and out of the house as soon as possible, and try to get caught up on all that I need to do to meet the needs of my students. Despite being woken up three times last night (once for a truck slamming into and totalling one of our cars and the hour and a half ordeal with the police (who could not have been more helpful, by the way), once when my oldest son had lost his pillow, and another time when my oldest son had a nightmare and wanted me to lay in bed with him), I was still up at 4:15 getting ready to go. I arrived at school and got a significant amount of work done. I was feeling a very miniscule portion of the weight lift, and then my students arrived.
What I witnessed today from these students made me feel as though the burden had been wrenched off my shoulders. The perspective that it gave me allowed me to see through the wall that is before me, and see the wonderful things that are happening to and in my students.
I was so proud of my students yesterday that they were able to complete three sets (of five minutes each) of absolutely silent and focussed writing. For students who view writing as many adults would view root canal surgery, this fifteen minutes was nothing short of a miracle. Afterward, they said how much easier it is to write once you get started. They said how much easier it was to write using an outline. They said how much easier it was to write after I modeled for them what writing looks like. They said how much easier it was to write when they created a custom plan for how they would use class time.
I was on top of the world, and today I realized there are a few more floors to go.
I praised them today for their hard work yesterday. We talked strategies and plans. We checked rubrics and outlines. Then we tried the five minute silent writing again.
They didn't want to stop.
They kept asking to share what they wrote.
They begged for more time writing.
Yes! I am not making this up! They begged for longer than five minutes.
I suggested seven minutes and they laughed at me.
"We want 10."
"Guys, come on. Seriously. Let's try 8."
"Give us 10 minutes. We can do it."
That's when I caved. The fact that they unanimously believed in themselves that they could accomplish this goal was an accomplishment in and of itself.
"Ok. 10 minutes."
They didn't believe it when the timer went off. They thought I cheated and only set it to eight minutes. We debriefed afterwards and talked about what went well and what could have gone better.
They started begging again.
They wanted 15 minutes of silent writing.
I was amazed. We talked about strategies for if they get stuck, or if they finish.
Then they wrote. And wrote. And wrote.
I mentioned to them beforehand that if they could actually pull this off, then I would call the principal on the phone and brag on them for a bit.
When the fifteen minutes was up, and we listened to our writing, they insisted that we bring the principal to the room so they could see his reaction. He was gracious enough to oblige, and the smile on his face as I recounted the events of the day was enormous. He then asked, "How many of you are proud of what you wrote?" Every hand shot up as though he asked "Who likes pizza?"
And the burden is gone.
Yes, I still have a ton to do. Yes, I will probably have to prioritize and let a few things go. But what I saw today in these students was extraordinary, and it deserves nothing less than my full attention.
So you have seen my therapy session for the day. I put aside everything else to write this blog and reflect on the beautiful experience I was able to stand witness to today from students who have been so disenfranchised by school.
They named themselves OOTA, Out Of The Ashes, because "we've always been burned by school and have been covered in ashes, and we want to be something better."
Today, I saw the birth of something better.
Something beautiful.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
What a mess...
I had a very different idea of what "messy" meant when I originally thought of the title to this post a few days ago.
In this blog, and in numerous conversations with colleagues and my wife, I have spoken about how amazed I am at what my students have been doing these past few weeks. I have seen things that I hoped would occur by the end of the year, but time and time again these students exceed all expectations I have of them.
It has been wonderful to watch them break out of the confines that normally or traditionally bind them. One of the strategies that I have been using is to remove myself as a resource. We go over the goals for the day, I give them an overview of what my expectations are in regards to any products they need to produce during class, I give them a few minutes to ask me questions, and then I go mute.
This was harder for me than I thought it would be, but is incredibly rewarding. They create plans as a whole class before moving forward. They elect a supervisor through blind voting, they break up into small groups according to student interests and skill sets. The leaders check in with small groups. Representatives from groups travel to other groups updating them on progress. Small group and whole group leaders meet with students without jobs asking them how they would like to contribute to the project. They come together a few minutes before the product is due and make sure that everyone understands the purpose and the final product. They make sure that everyone likes what the individual groups came up with.
They do it all without me suggesting any of it.
We are only in the fourth week of school, yet they act like they've been doing this forever. Each day I do something like this, they streamline the process a bit more. They try strategies that worked for them in the past. When they aren't that effective, they try new things.
But it's messy.
There's a lot of noise. There are miscalculations, things overlooked, plans that don't work.
But this is exactly what learning should be. No obstacle has gotten in their way that they couldn't find a way around. Sometimes there were obstacles there from the beginning that they just didn't see. Sometimes obstacles pop up somewhere in the process. But they move forward.
It is a beautiful mess.
Then "messy" took on a whole new meaning yesterday.
Without going into a lot of details, the "candy coating" is wearing off, and the "honeymoon" appears to be over with OOTA. It has nothing to do with a falling out or any particular incident. I do not even mean to imply that there is anything wrong with transitioning to the next phase. There was just a noticeable change in mood and atmosphere. The burdens that students carry started becoming much more apparent. There were a few absences. We struggled through changing Apple IDs and other tedious activities. It was a mess yesterday.
I went home drained and discouraged. I saw pain in my students' eyes from the weights that they carry. I longed to be able to somehow make their lives better so they could be kids and not deal with the adult-sized burdens that some of them bear. I was frustrated that I allowed myself to become rattled by things of little lasting significance.
I was a mess.
Then the sun rose and it was a new day in more ways than one. Smiles were back. Fantastic progress was made on the projects that they are creating. Students were spilling their guts in their blogs. I felt the fire ignite within my own soul again. I saw students get excited about what they were blogging about moments after initially moaning about having to write anything. I saw students figure out ways to get around obstacles on their own. I saw them write with honesty and openness. I saw spelling mistake after spelling mistake. I saw some students momentarily off task. I saw students help each other. I saw a student return from being absent and not miss a single beat with his project. I saw a student display more independence and willingness to take charge of his learning than he has displayed so far. I saw students laying on tables, but on task. I saw students working collaboratively in the hall. I saw students taking selfies.
It was a mess.
And I loved every moment of it...
In this blog, and in numerous conversations with colleagues and my wife, I have spoken about how amazed I am at what my students have been doing these past few weeks. I have seen things that I hoped would occur by the end of the year, but time and time again these students exceed all expectations I have of them.
It has been wonderful to watch them break out of the confines that normally or traditionally bind them. One of the strategies that I have been using is to remove myself as a resource. We go over the goals for the day, I give them an overview of what my expectations are in regards to any products they need to produce during class, I give them a few minutes to ask me questions, and then I go mute.
This was harder for me than I thought it would be, but is incredibly rewarding. They create plans as a whole class before moving forward. They elect a supervisor through blind voting, they break up into small groups according to student interests and skill sets. The leaders check in with small groups. Representatives from groups travel to other groups updating them on progress. Small group and whole group leaders meet with students without jobs asking them how they would like to contribute to the project. They come together a few minutes before the product is due and make sure that everyone understands the purpose and the final product. They make sure that everyone likes what the individual groups came up with.
They do it all without me suggesting any of it.
We are only in the fourth week of school, yet they act like they've been doing this forever. Each day I do something like this, they streamline the process a bit more. They try strategies that worked for them in the past. When they aren't that effective, they try new things.
But it's messy.
There's a lot of noise. There are miscalculations, things overlooked, plans that don't work.
But this is exactly what learning should be. No obstacle has gotten in their way that they couldn't find a way around. Sometimes there were obstacles there from the beginning that they just didn't see. Sometimes obstacles pop up somewhere in the process. But they move forward.
It is a beautiful mess.
Then "messy" took on a whole new meaning yesterday.
Without going into a lot of details, the "candy coating" is wearing off, and the "honeymoon" appears to be over with OOTA. It has nothing to do with a falling out or any particular incident. I do not even mean to imply that there is anything wrong with transitioning to the next phase. There was just a noticeable change in mood and atmosphere. The burdens that students carry started becoming much more apparent. There were a few absences. We struggled through changing Apple IDs and other tedious activities. It was a mess yesterday.
I went home drained and discouraged. I saw pain in my students' eyes from the weights that they carry. I longed to be able to somehow make their lives better so they could be kids and not deal with the adult-sized burdens that some of them bear. I was frustrated that I allowed myself to become rattled by things of little lasting significance.
I was a mess.
Then the sun rose and it was a new day in more ways than one. Smiles were back. Fantastic progress was made on the projects that they are creating. Students were spilling their guts in their blogs. I felt the fire ignite within my own soul again. I saw students get excited about what they were blogging about moments after initially moaning about having to write anything. I saw students figure out ways to get around obstacles on their own. I saw them write with honesty and openness. I saw spelling mistake after spelling mistake. I saw some students momentarily off task. I saw students help each other. I saw a student return from being absent and not miss a single beat with his project. I saw a student display more independence and willingness to take charge of his learning than he has displayed so far. I saw students laying on tables, but on task. I saw students working collaboratively in the hall. I saw students taking selfies.
It was a mess.
And I loved every moment of it...
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
"You Say You Want a Revolution..."
I spent most of class on Friday and Monday amazed as I watched student presentations that were created to answer the question, "What is Project Based Learning." It was an assignment that was a spur of the moment idea thanks to some honest feedback from a student (an iPad held up for me to read a screenshot that said 'Boring'). There were few guidelines other than to use any resource in the room to create some kind of product to explain Project Based Learning. It was the first opportunity to really let them explore and experiment on their own.
My first reaction was amazement that they could come up with such great presentations using technology that was brand new to them to communicate a teaching method that is also brand new to them. There were special effects in Keynote. There were great movies made with iMovie. There were films using stop motion animation, fantastic character voices, and legos. There was a high level of "razzle dazzle."
And then I really listened.
I will be honest that what I heard made me a bit uncomfortable. I did not ask them to make any judgments or comparisons or to take a particular side, yet student after student spoke with something in between passion and certainty that PBL is a better way for them to learn. They talked about past experiences that did not necessarily meet their needs. They spoke about "better" and "more exciting."
I started to squirm.
I did not squirm because I don't believe or agree with them, but because I do believe them and agree with them with every fiber of my being. I may or may not have joked (your Honor) with several people over the summer about staging an academic revolution. Where students are shown another way to learn and they rise up and demand it. All I kept thinking as I sat through the presentations was, "Holy smokes they're actually doing that!" "Revolution Leader" is not on my resume, but I'm willing to learn.
As I sat and listened and watched, there was excitement in their eyes as they explained that they could work at their own pace, that the learning would be relevant, that the projects themselves would be both how they learned and how they demonstrated their learning. There was smile after smile on students' faces as they talked about what this year is going to involve. Their own pace. No tests. Hands-on projects. Flexible instruction. Authentic assessments. Relevant content Engaging application. What I heard and saw, in a word, was hope.
Then it hit me. They have totally bought into this new endeavor. What kept going through my mind was, "I better deliver." They were all-in and actually excited to be here and to learn in a new way.
The revolution is beginning and there is no turning back.
My hope is that we can stage a revolution that does more building than tearing down. If we need to clear some space and tear down some barriers or old structures, so be it, but only if we can build something better. One of the most beautiful things about this revolution is that I have only a shadow of an idea of what the "something better" looks like.
The only thing I am certain of is that we can and must build it together.
My first reaction was amazement that they could come up with such great presentations using technology that was brand new to them to communicate a teaching method that is also brand new to them. There were special effects in Keynote. There were great movies made with iMovie. There were films using stop motion animation, fantastic character voices, and legos. There was a high level of "razzle dazzle."
And then I really listened.
I will be honest that what I heard made me a bit uncomfortable. I did not ask them to make any judgments or comparisons or to take a particular side, yet student after student spoke with something in between passion and certainty that PBL is a better way for them to learn. They talked about past experiences that did not necessarily meet their needs. They spoke about "better" and "more exciting."
I started to squirm.
I did not squirm because I don't believe or agree with them, but because I do believe them and agree with them with every fiber of my being. I may or may not have joked (your Honor) with several people over the summer about staging an academic revolution. Where students are shown another way to learn and they rise up and demand it. All I kept thinking as I sat through the presentations was, "Holy smokes they're actually doing that!" "Revolution Leader" is not on my resume, but I'm willing to learn.
As I sat and listened and watched, there was excitement in their eyes as they explained that they could work at their own pace, that the learning would be relevant, that the projects themselves would be both how they learned and how they demonstrated their learning. There was smile after smile on students' faces as they talked about what this year is going to involve. Their own pace. No tests. Hands-on projects. Flexible instruction. Authentic assessments. Relevant content Engaging application. What I heard and saw, in a word, was hope.
Then it hit me. They have totally bought into this new endeavor. What kept going through my mind was, "I better deliver." They were all-in and actually excited to be here and to learn in a new way.
The revolution is beginning and there is no turning back.
My hope is that we can stage a revolution that does more building than tearing down. If we need to clear some space and tear down some barriers or old structures, so be it, but only if we can build something better. One of the most beautiful things about this revolution is that I have only a shadow of an idea of what the "something better" looks like.
The only thing I am certain of is that we can and must build it together.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Lessons From a Bean Field
I found myself in awe today of the fact that I get to teach. I get to dedicate my life to helping young minds grow. I get to help my students along the journey towards becoming the people that they always dreamed they could be.
Part of that journey took place in a Maine bean field.
A colleague of mine, who I hold in the highest regards, organized a trip to a local farm for the entire 7th grade as well as the students in my program. We boarded and rode hot buses on an unseasonably hot and humid day, then filed out into a very organized plan-of-attack at the farm. We all bent down and grabbed handful after handful of fresh, tender green beans, put them in buckets and then into bushel baskets that will soon be served to our students for lunches. He has been doing this for a while and I am amazed at the passion that comes through when he speaks to the students about the Farm to School program, the benefits of eating locally grown crops, and the wonder and amazement that nature can produce such diverse and delicious bounties. It was great to see him teaching to and from the heart today.
In the midst of this great experience were a few events that unsettled me a bit. Actually they rattled me to my core. Rather than going into detail or even giving an overview, I think it is more important to share the lessons I learned from them. With this year and this blog I choose to stay positive and look for ways to help be a part of solutions. Problems arise, I understand, but for me to just vent about them without offering any plan for a solution or how I will use those problems to help me and my students grow would be to go through this life without a sense of joy or eager expectation of how I can help make the world a better place.
Geez. There's that Hallmark moment again. My apologies.
So the lessons from the bean field:
I choose to seek out the positive in students, however hidden it may sometimes be. I choose to pick and choose my battles understanding that my tone of voice or the words that are said can quickly undo any progress that has been made to build a connection with a student. I choose to let go of my expectations if they do not put the needs of my students first. I choose to remember that what is best is not always easy, and what is easy is not always best. Whether that is in regards to my choices and behavior or my students'. My students need as many people modeling for them how to choose what is best over what is easy. I choose to be one of those individuals.
I choose these things, but they are not one-time choices. I must make and remake these choices dozens of times a day. Sometimes I choose poorly. Sometimes I take the path that is easy, rather than the one that is best. Some days are a string of poor choices. But I can also choose to allow those days filled with poor choices and me dropping the ball to become learning experiences for me and those around me.
I choose today to teach to and from the heart.
Now cue the sappy music...
Part of that journey took place in a Maine bean field.
A colleague of mine, who I hold in the highest regards, organized a trip to a local farm for the entire 7th grade as well as the students in my program. We boarded and rode hot buses on an unseasonably hot and humid day, then filed out into a very organized plan-of-attack at the farm. We all bent down and grabbed handful after handful of fresh, tender green beans, put them in buckets and then into bushel baskets that will soon be served to our students for lunches. He has been doing this for a while and I am amazed at the passion that comes through when he speaks to the students about the Farm to School program, the benefits of eating locally grown crops, and the wonder and amazement that nature can produce such diverse and delicious bounties. It was great to see him teaching to and from the heart today.
In the midst of this great experience were a few events that unsettled me a bit. Actually they rattled me to my core. Rather than going into detail or even giving an overview, I think it is more important to share the lessons I learned from them. With this year and this blog I choose to stay positive and look for ways to help be a part of solutions. Problems arise, I understand, but for me to just vent about them without offering any plan for a solution or how I will use those problems to help me and my students grow would be to go through this life without a sense of joy or eager expectation of how I can help make the world a better place.
Geez. There's that Hallmark moment again. My apologies.
So the lessons from the bean field:
I choose to seek out the positive in students, however hidden it may sometimes be. I choose to pick and choose my battles understanding that my tone of voice or the words that are said can quickly undo any progress that has been made to build a connection with a student. I choose to let go of my expectations if they do not put the needs of my students first. I choose to remember that what is best is not always easy, and what is easy is not always best. Whether that is in regards to my choices and behavior or my students'. My students need as many people modeling for them how to choose what is best over what is easy. I choose to be one of those individuals.
I choose these things, but they are not one-time choices. I must make and remake these choices dozens of times a day. Sometimes I choose poorly. Sometimes I take the path that is easy, rather than the one that is best. Some days are a string of poor choices. But I can also choose to allow those days filled with poor choices and me dropping the ball to become learning experiences for me and those around me.
I choose today to teach to and from the heart.
Now cue the sappy music...
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Teaching with and to the heart
I received an email last night from a colleague who has been a huge support and resource for this new endeavor I am undertaking this year. The email contained a link to a blog written about school and educational reform. It was inspiring. It was controversial. It was thought provoking. I loved it. It got me thinking deeper about several experiences from the past week.
Act I
First, a very eye-opening experience from the week before school, as we teachers were opening and setting up classrooms that had been freshly cleaned and ready for a new year of wear and tear. We are a middle school in Maine, which means that we have the incredibly fortunate opportunity to be part of the Maine Learning Technology Initiative and have 1:1 devices for all seventh and eighth graders. This year marked a milestone for several reasons. The first is that it is time to get new devices. The second is that for the first time, those new devices are not laptops. They are iPads.
Please note, this is not a post about brand loyalty or drawing a line in the sand about being a "PC Guy" or "Mac Guy." All I will say about that is that I am very aware of how fortunate we are to be in a state that not only says it values technology and education, but that opens up doors to give our students top-of-the-line technology that will help enhance their learning experience.
Ok. Back to the show.
With this new technology comes a huge learning curve for us as teachers. How do we support students on devices some of us know little about? How do we take advantage of the fact that we can customize an iPad with different apps to meet the individual needs of students, while at the same time not allow that to be abused by anyone? How do we best use this new technology?
These and many more questions have been floating around the building for a while now. Without going into a lot of detail, there has been a significant amount of anxiety and tension around the new technology and how to use and manage it. There are some that are stressed and yet willing to learn something new. There are those who, by appearance, have given up before they have even started because it seems too hard. There are some that want their old laptops back so as to not have to learn the new devices. There are those who are psyched out of their minds and can't wait to see what how we can use this technology to better meet the needs of our students. There are those who may have a bit of a stress-medley and have a little helping of all those outlooks.
After seeing all these different reactions, it hit me that we have an extraordinary opportunity to better understand our students. We, as teachers, are a group who have chosen to dedicate our lives to a profession that is focussed on learning. That's what we are supposed to be all about: how to teach students how to learn. (There is a whole other conversation there on whether we are truly doing that or just teaching how to jump through hoops and regurgitate information, but I'm too tired to tackle all of that in one post.) We have a remarkable teachable moment if we choose to acknowledge it. Here we are, professionals, exhibiting the exact same behaviors and modes of thinking that our students do on a daily basis about reading, writing, math, and science. If we can allow ourselves to pause a moment and recognize how we are responding to this new challenge, and see that it is not that different than our students' responses, we may be able to make some significant progress in the lives of our students. We now know first hand what it is like to be too intimidated to try. We now know exactly what it feels like to be so overwhelmed with what is being asked of us that we refuse to let go of something. We now know what it's like to be scared to show others that we don't really have all the answers.
My hope is that we will remember this feeling when our students are feeling the same way and not necessarily handling it in the best way. Maybe we will be a bit slower to get frustrated when they turn and joke with another student to cover their fear or frustration. Maybe we will be able to extend more grace or compassion when our reading or math assignment causes students to shut down. Maybe we will have a bit more patience and perspective when our students refuse to do the previous night's assignment. I hope so.
Act II
I promise to make this shorter.
I had an extraordinary experience sitting in class at the end of the day on our first day of school. Because of how we scheduled this new endeavor, I get to be in with my students while one of my colleagues teaches science. We will eventually team-teach, or I'll meet with small groups or one-on-one to help meet the students' needs, but for Tuesday, I got to sit with them and participate in the class.
I sat next to a student who I knew needed to make connections with teachers in order to be successful. When that connection is absent, this particular student has historically had a very difficult time. So I believe it was with the best intentions that I found myself wanting to talk to him and joke around when the teacher was talking. Yes, I admit it! I wanted to make him laugh and build some trust between us. It had nothing to do with wanting to sabotage my colleague, for whom I have an enormous amount of respect. It had nothing to do with wanting to sabotage the rest of the class. It had everything to do with wanting to build a connection. Thankfully, I realized all of this before I actually started joking around. I was struck by the fact that it took a significant amount of self-control and self-awareness to stay on task, despite my good intentions. How can we, or how can I, expect my students to exhibit the same level of self-control and self-awareness every moment or every day, when it was so difficult for me, an adult and teacher more than twice their age?
The Finale
Back to reforming schools.
Both of these experiences I have shared, along with many others I have had both as a teacher and student, make me a firm believer in reforming schools. On my particularly passionate days, I may even say that we need to call for a revolution. However, I do not believe it will start or even end with legislators, despite their best intentions. Laws, regulations, policies, and even technology and standards will not really reform education. I believe that it begins and ends with teachers teaching with their heart and to the students' hearts.
You can cue the Hallmark After School Special soundtrack now.
Despite sounding kind of corny, I truly believe that teaching is about hearts as well as minds. I believe that a lot of work needs to be done to improve how we teach from and to both, but too often it is the heart that is left out of the equation. We tend to think a lot about numbers, grades, statistics. We tend to ignore feelings and character, or simply reduce them to values that never quite make it into our curriculum. I would like to commit to focussing on individual hearts and minds that need a tremendous amount of care and guidance. I would like to commit to creating a culture in my classroom that engages the mind and the heart. When we care more about quantifiable data than we do the individual whose "output" is being quantified, we miss the opportunity to help form hearts and minds.
School reform begins when we focus on forming the hearts and minds of our students.
I know I have talked a lot about "we" or "teachers," but I want this to start with me. I want to commit to focussing all my energy on helping to be a part of forming healthy, inquisitive, thoughtful, awe-filled hearts and minds. I want to teach with my heart and my mind. I want to truly embrace the credo that I came up with and wrote on the board my very first day of teaching: "We seek to embrace awe, and wonder, and amazement of the world around us as we strive to become the individuals we always dreamed we could be."
School reform is possible. But it does not begin with the school. It begins with the hearts and minds of teachers engaging, challenging, guiding, and enriching the hearts and minds of their students.
Act I
First, a very eye-opening experience from the week before school, as we teachers were opening and setting up classrooms that had been freshly cleaned and ready for a new year of wear and tear. We are a middle school in Maine, which means that we have the incredibly fortunate opportunity to be part of the Maine Learning Technology Initiative and have 1:1 devices for all seventh and eighth graders. This year marked a milestone for several reasons. The first is that it is time to get new devices. The second is that for the first time, those new devices are not laptops. They are iPads.
Please note, this is not a post about brand loyalty or drawing a line in the sand about being a "PC Guy" or "Mac Guy." All I will say about that is that I am very aware of how fortunate we are to be in a state that not only says it values technology and education, but that opens up doors to give our students top-of-the-line technology that will help enhance their learning experience.
Ok. Back to the show.
With this new technology comes a huge learning curve for us as teachers. How do we support students on devices some of us know little about? How do we take advantage of the fact that we can customize an iPad with different apps to meet the individual needs of students, while at the same time not allow that to be abused by anyone? How do we best use this new technology?
These and many more questions have been floating around the building for a while now. Without going into a lot of detail, there has been a significant amount of anxiety and tension around the new technology and how to use and manage it. There are some that are stressed and yet willing to learn something new. There are those who, by appearance, have given up before they have even started because it seems too hard. There are some that want their old laptops back so as to not have to learn the new devices. There are those who are psyched out of their minds and can't wait to see what how we can use this technology to better meet the needs of our students. There are those who may have a bit of a stress-medley and have a little helping of all those outlooks.
After seeing all these different reactions, it hit me that we have an extraordinary opportunity to better understand our students. We, as teachers, are a group who have chosen to dedicate our lives to a profession that is focussed on learning. That's what we are supposed to be all about: how to teach students how to learn. (There is a whole other conversation there on whether we are truly doing that or just teaching how to jump through hoops and regurgitate information, but I'm too tired to tackle all of that in one post.) We have a remarkable teachable moment if we choose to acknowledge it. Here we are, professionals, exhibiting the exact same behaviors and modes of thinking that our students do on a daily basis about reading, writing, math, and science. If we can allow ourselves to pause a moment and recognize how we are responding to this new challenge, and see that it is not that different than our students' responses, we may be able to make some significant progress in the lives of our students. We now know first hand what it is like to be too intimidated to try. We now know exactly what it feels like to be so overwhelmed with what is being asked of us that we refuse to let go of something. We now know what it's like to be scared to show others that we don't really have all the answers.
My hope is that we will remember this feeling when our students are feeling the same way and not necessarily handling it in the best way. Maybe we will be a bit slower to get frustrated when they turn and joke with another student to cover their fear or frustration. Maybe we will be able to extend more grace or compassion when our reading or math assignment causes students to shut down. Maybe we will have a bit more patience and perspective when our students refuse to do the previous night's assignment. I hope so.
Act II
I promise to make this shorter.
I had an extraordinary experience sitting in class at the end of the day on our first day of school. Because of how we scheduled this new endeavor, I get to be in with my students while one of my colleagues teaches science. We will eventually team-teach, or I'll meet with small groups or one-on-one to help meet the students' needs, but for Tuesday, I got to sit with them and participate in the class.
I sat next to a student who I knew needed to make connections with teachers in order to be successful. When that connection is absent, this particular student has historically had a very difficult time. So I believe it was with the best intentions that I found myself wanting to talk to him and joke around when the teacher was talking. Yes, I admit it! I wanted to make him laugh and build some trust between us. It had nothing to do with wanting to sabotage my colleague, for whom I have an enormous amount of respect. It had nothing to do with wanting to sabotage the rest of the class. It had everything to do with wanting to build a connection. Thankfully, I realized all of this before I actually started joking around. I was struck by the fact that it took a significant amount of self-control and self-awareness to stay on task, despite my good intentions. How can we, or how can I, expect my students to exhibit the same level of self-control and self-awareness every moment or every day, when it was so difficult for me, an adult and teacher more than twice their age?
The Finale
Back to reforming schools.
Both of these experiences I have shared, along with many others I have had both as a teacher and student, make me a firm believer in reforming schools. On my particularly passionate days, I may even say that we need to call for a revolution. However, I do not believe it will start or even end with legislators, despite their best intentions. Laws, regulations, policies, and even technology and standards will not really reform education. I believe that it begins and ends with teachers teaching with their heart and to the students' hearts.
You can cue the Hallmark After School Special soundtrack now.
Despite sounding kind of corny, I truly believe that teaching is about hearts as well as minds. I believe that a lot of work needs to be done to improve how we teach from and to both, but too often it is the heart that is left out of the equation. We tend to think a lot about numbers, grades, statistics. We tend to ignore feelings and character, or simply reduce them to values that never quite make it into our curriculum. I would like to commit to focussing on individual hearts and minds that need a tremendous amount of care and guidance. I would like to commit to creating a culture in my classroom that engages the mind and the heart. When we care more about quantifiable data than we do the individual whose "output" is being quantified, we miss the opportunity to help form hearts and minds.
School reform begins when we focus on forming the hearts and minds of our students.
I know I have talked a lot about "we" or "teachers," but I want this to start with me. I want to commit to focussing all my energy on helping to be a part of forming healthy, inquisitive, thoughtful, awe-filled hearts and minds. I want to teach with my heart and my mind. I want to truly embrace the credo that I came up with and wrote on the board my very first day of teaching: "We seek to embrace awe, and wonder, and amazement of the world around us as we strive to become the individuals we always dreamed we could be."
School reform is possible. But it does not begin with the school. It begins with the hearts and minds of teachers engaging, challenging, guiding, and enriching the hearts and minds of their students.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Wow.
Students are engaged.
Students are laughing.
Students are learning.
Students are participating.
Students are exploring.
Students are experimenting.
I cannot begin to explain how amazing it is to write those sentences as observations of things in the present, rather than goals for the future. It's messy, there's lots that I need to learn and change, but man is this exciting. I have heard some incredible things from students this week. When we were working on our expectations for each other and me, one student responded to the question, "What do you need from me (the teacher)," with, "The freedom to learn." Another student immediately added, "The freedom to learn in our own way." Wow. In that one phrase, my students articulated what I believe to be at the very core of this new endeavor.
I have received incredibly touching and encouraging emails from parents about the changes they have already seen in their son or daughter. I am humbled and honored to be a part of that change, though it is absolutely a team effort by all those who are working with me behind the scenes.
Today was amazing. We did some creative problem solving/team building activities that were fun for some, and challenging for others. We talked about how one of the activities could be a metaphor for how we want to work and what they need from me to be successful. One of the coolest things happened after I gave them a short 5 minute pitch on what this program is, what my role will be, and where we want students to be able to go. I told them they needed to name the program and that I would not be saying a word for ten minutes. I sat and wrote down what I saw and heard, and it was amazing. It began with a relatively high volume of people shouting out suggestions or critiquing other suggestions. It then became completely chaotic with few individual voices heard and no progress made. Some students just sat there. One was laying on a table. I will admit it was difficult to not step in. But I wanted and still want them to experiment and learn to explore and navigate on their own. At the peak of the chaos, I began hearing some students say things like, "This is NOT working." "We're getting nowhere." "I'm going to leave." Then came the suggestions like, "We need to be quiet." "How about we raise our hand." "We need to focus." Then it began to quiet down. Not silent, mind you, but much more conducive to having a discussion. Then they started working it out on their own.
I stopped them at the end of ten minutes to share what I saw and heard without making any judgments. They thought they had failed. Then I shared with them how amazed I was that in just ten minutes, on the third day of school, they were able to recognize what they were meant to be doing, experiment with how to meet the goal, see what was not working, devise a plan for how to fix the problem, and proceed to execute their plan. All without any input whatsoever from an adult. I thought they were incredible. It was wonderful to see the recognition on their faces that they did something well that they thought they failed at.
I commented to someone today that I feel that if the school year were to end today, I could write at least multiple chapters, if not an entire book, of what I have learned and observed these past few days. It has been incredibly exciting, invigorating, terrifying, and enlightening. It has been incredibly meaningful for me from a personal standpoint as well. For the first time I really feel like I am doing exactly what I was made to do.
Already I love this year. I am growing as a learner and teacher, and my students are as well. We are experimenting and trying new things. We are sharing ideas. We are laughing and smiling in school. We are pushing ourselves as learners. We are reflecting on our learning. Day three complete.
I cannot wait for tomorrow.
Students are laughing.
Students are learning.
Students are participating.
Students are exploring.
Students are experimenting.
I cannot begin to explain how amazing it is to write those sentences as observations of things in the present, rather than goals for the future. It's messy, there's lots that I need to learn and change, but man is this exciting. I have heard some incredible things from students this week. When we were working on our expectations for each other and me, one student responded to the question, "What do you need from me (the teacher)," with, "The freedom to learn." Another student immediately added, "The freedom to learn in our own way." Wow. In that one phrase, my students articulated what I believe to be at the very core of this new endeavor.
I have received incredibly touching and encouraging emails from parents about the changes they have already seen in their son or daughter. I am humbled and honored to be a part of that change, though it is absolutely a team effort by all those who are working with me behind the scenes.
Today was amazing. We did some creative problem solving/team building activities that were fun for some, and challenging for others. We talked about how one of the activities could be a metaphor for how we want to work and what they need from me to be successful. One of the coolest things happened after I gave them a short 5 minute pitch on what this program is, what my role will be, and where we want students to be able to go. I told them they needed to name the program and that I would not be saying a word for ten minutes. I sat and wrote down what I saw and heard, and it was amazing. It began with a relatively high volume of people shouting out suggestions or critiquing other suggestions. It then became completely chaotic with few individual voices heard and no progress made. Some students just sat there. One was laying on a table. I will admit it was difficult to not step in. But I wanted and still want them to experiment and learn to explore and navigate on their own. At the peak of the chaos, I began hearing some students say things like, "This is NOT working." "We're getting nowhere." "I'm going to leave." Then came the suggestions like, "We need to be quiet." "How about we raise our hand." "We need to focus." Then it began to quiet down. Not silent, mind you, but much more conducive to having a discussion. Then they started working it out on their own.
I stopped them at the end of ten minutes to share what I saw and heard without making any judgments. They thought they had failed. Then I shared with them how amazed I was that in just ten minutes, on the third day of school, they were able to recognize what they were meant to be doing, experiment with how to meet the goal, see what was not working, devise a plan for how to fix the problem, and proceed to execute their plan. All without any input whatsoever from an adult. I thought they were incredible. It was wonderful to see the recognition on their faces that they did something well that they thought they failed at.
I commented to someone today that I feel that if the school year were to end today, I could write at least multiple chapters, if not an entire book, of what I have learned and observed these past few days. It has been incredibly exciting, invigorating, terrifying, and enlightening. It has been incredibly meaningful for me from a personal standpoint as well. For the first time I really feel like I am doing exactly what I was made to do.
Already I love this year. I am growing as a learner and teacher, and my students are as well. We are experimenting and trying new things. We are sharing ideas. We are laughing and smiling in school. We are pushing ourselves as learners. We are reflecting on our learning. Day three complete.
I cannot wait for tomorrow.
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