Author: Kelly Love

Cinderella, Minecraft, and Secret Super Ninja Powers

Last week I related to my students, a small table group, about how I explained the theme(s) of the original Cinderella to a grown-up that morning. I pontificated on those themes with this group, verbosely elaborating the bigger ideas of dysfunctional, blended families, distracted or neglectful parents, father/daughter relationships , and the price of greed (it was the original Grimms’ Cinderella, with cut-off toes and heels, pecked out eyeballs, you know–the works).

Small Ukrainian student looks up at me, and says, quietly: “Mrs. Love, are those your super powers?”

I look at him, at first not understanding, and then realize, “Oh, D….., you mean my ability to come up with the big or main idea of something so fast?” He says yes, and then says, “Well, Mrs. Love, that is not a very good super power…”

I bust out laughing. I told him I could also turn invisible, but that would scare him, and the abilitiy to decipher themes is the only real super power I have.

Now I’m reconsidering my super powers. Today is a testing day, and I find myself with time to actually read blogs, and now share that anecdote. I read Teacher Tom’s post on a hashtag, and it’s pretty impressive. He is pretty clear in that students have been complaining about the same things since anyone taught anyone anything. I do want students, and teachers too, to rethink some of their methods, and consider that even though all knowledge may not be pragmatically or immediately applied, it is still a good thing in and of itself. Just because I don’t personally use algebra doesn’t mean that I am sorry for the experience of having taken it. If anything, it enhances my ability and buffs my super powers. I know have an understanding of what it’s like to learn something uncomfortable and challenging. Is that all students want every experience to be breezy and blissful? I offer this idea: life is contrast, and education provides those options to fill in our own life chiaroscuros.

Detour: With the help of my younger son and the insistence of a few students, I started a Minecraft Mondays at school. My mission, to help this band of stalwart builders not only create their virtual worlds, but to learn to be kind to one another in the process, ambassadors as it were, as they are creating the social fabric they want to wrap themselves in. I am not a Minecraft player. I don’t want to be a Minecraft player. But I do know the excitement players feel. They live for this club. And, my agenda is to make sure they go out in those virtual world with some manners. There exists this fourth dimension, and it is just as real as any we face. I would link more information about Minecraft if I could, but alas, all is blocked.

Blocked. Blocked. Blocked.

And here is what I wish my super powers really were: the ability to protect students from the dangers of the world via transparency and knowledge. They could use that right away.

Stolen time…

As it turns out, I can only do ten things well, not eleven. Guess I don’t go to eleven. Oh well.

Anyway – I haven’t been posting on this blog frequently for two simple reasons: first, haven’t wanted to use any of the time in my contractual day with personal technological communications and missives, and second, by the time I get home I want to goof-off. You know, be a responsible wife, mom, writer, and part-time gamer. Sure there are loads of clean laundry in there, too, but have been suspicious about certain odors.

But the thing is, I started this blog as part of my integrated technology instruction for 2st Century Learners. There’s a mouthful. My intent was to use my technological prowess to provide my students a platform for their voices, too, and for the most part, have succeeded. Took a mini-break last year, more like break-down, but am trying to reconnect to these restless digital natives in new and innovative ways.

And it’s not easy.

And I’m even questioning its necessity.

So, a fabulous librarian offered to come to my school and talk to our students, in our classrooms, about new books, and what is being offered at the library.

You should know this: she shared with me that Neil Gaiman hugged her once. He. Hugged. Her. Among a group of well-heeled Gaiman Groupies, she was fresh from working in her garden, a little grimy, and he hugged HER. I immediately jumped up and hugged her, of course!! Forget you, Kevin Bacon. Two degrees of hugging Neil Gaiman works for me. When I shared this with my students, they ran up and hugged ME! It was hilarious! So, Neil, if you felt a little happier yesterday, there was adolescent worship coming your way in the universe.

You’re welcome.

Her personal blog is: http://www.infocreature.blogspot.com/

I think between the two of us, we got a few new converts to reading. I conspired with my students that over the break (which officially begins tomorrow…thank you loving heaven above, because I am wiped out….), if they needed to “escape” for a bit and were sick of playing Call of Duty, they should go to the library. I gave them four creative project choices from How to Be An Explorer of the World by Keri Smith.

My “everyone can be creative” belief may be greatly challenged by the results of my open-ended experiment. What the heck — it is extra credit, after all. There is no standard for “creativity.” Pity–but perhaps not having it tested on a national assessment is the best thing that ever happened to creativity.

Well, before the New Year, where am I now? Where are my young charges? Four months until the state tests of reading and writing for 7th grade, our school needs to meet AYP or something, and none of us know what, will happen. I have been placed in the care and feeding of 7th grade students because so much is riding on their scores, and I am feeling equally unbalanced in my wavering “YES I CAN DO THIS!” and “OH NO!!!!”

But I hugged Neil Gaiman.

Kind of.

Light-switch.

My young charges do not believe me when I tell them that no brain truly multitasks, but we all “toggle.” Teaching 7th grade has also been, well – interesting. It dawned on me the other day that I am not teaching one year younger, but at least two: I sent young adults, high school students, off into the world last May; however, now I am growing sixth grade students.

I have had the discouraging report that our school’s test scores, which were steadily climbing, precipitously fell. If one were to correlate the fall of test scores with change in philosophy or pedagogy, it may have a link between the introduction of a quasi-RTI model, change of schedules, a hobbled PLC model, and the like. We shuffled, danced, and placed kids in basal reading programs, had teachers from all content areas teach these reading programs, and then scratched our heads when our scores plummeted. But I cannot blame external systems completely: I am holding up a harsh light to my own pedagogy skills. I will take the credit for much of our students’ successes: as a curriculum leader, I worked tirelessly to get the best resources in our school, novel units, novels, engaging lesson plans, and the like. I shared and shared and shared. Maybe too much. What did I do wrong? How did I not help the 7th grade teachers? How did I not help the 8th grade teachers? Most importantly: did I lose my voice and vote while advocating for my students? Was anyone listening to me and the other curriculum leaders? (Echo, you lonely little goddess…can you hear me now?)

But now everyone seems angry all the time, and confused. We are now practicing an ‘inclusion’ model and already I have had angry parents, from honors to special educational needs.  I see the swirls of dollar signs flocking metaphorically over our heads, flying out the windows, while we get copying budgets and toner cartridge rations. The students still enjoy their laptops, but already are playing games, games, games, and the new discipline policy lacks teeth at the moment. Doesn’t mean things won’t change, but for now, it is definitely a ‘grassroots’ sort of procedure. I always like my students–that is never a question. And fortunately, those seventh grade kids like me, too. Not too many problems, yet.

In order to reinforce the technology rules, and ever-striving to give ‘reasons why,’ I gave them a demonstration the other day, where I put a chair in front of the room. I “volunteered” a student to be the “great book,” while I cast myself as “awesome music.” We jumped up and down and played musical chairs, vying for the spot of our “brain” (played diligently by “chair”), until I made my toggling point. (Of course, helped them with background knowledge of a toggle switch, with a cameo appearance by “light-switch.”) They laughed, and got the point, although the next day, still had to remind, remind, remind.

But I think what might be happening to our kids may be something else besides fighting for attention in the language centers of their brains: we are pruning their ‘growth mindsets’ too fast and too much. And, I need to really think on this: do I have what it takes to be a mastery teacher? Am I willing to push, push, push for their higher scores on the state tests? It always was a meta-question for me: if I teach it, they will learn it, and the test itself will be fine. Now I am not so sure. Just wondering if I drink the Koolaid and focus solely on test scores. I have always agreed with the state standards: we have eleven targets, and they are fair and just in my opinion. They are things I want my students to know how to do. Period. But that test…huh.

But if I do that, teach the test and how to take it, how does that fit in with my knowledge of fixed versus growth mindset? 

From: Wired Magazine: In this new paper, Moser et al. extends this research by looking at how beliefs about learning shape these mostly involuntary error-related signals in the brain, both of which appear in less than half a second. More specifically, the scientists applied a dichotomy first proposed by Carol Dweck, a psychologist at Stanford. In her influential research, Dweck distinguishes between people with a fixed mindset — they tend to agree with statements such as “You have a certain amount of intelligence and cannot do much to change it” — and those with a growth mindset, who believe that we can get better at almost anything, provided we invest the necessary time and energy. While people with a fixed mindset see mistakes as a dismal failure — a sign that we aren’t talented enough for the task in question — those with a growth mindset see mistakes as an essential precursor of knowledge, the engine of education.

I’m not even sure what I am asking, it’s that bad. I’m just glad I kept all my resources and lessons from when I taught 7th grade. Dusting off Edgar Allan Poe and ‘The Highwayman.’ Somehow, their scores went up, so I guess it’s not hopeless. Just have to get the lightbulbs to work.

Just a little story.

My husband and I have a great “how we met” story. Maybe I’ll tell the whole story another time. One of the details of that story is that, during our first unofficial date, I noticed on his Chevy Blazer (cool) that he had an Apple logo sticker on the back window (more cool). It was one more sign that he was the guy for me. No, we weren’t ‘hipsters’ before there even was such a word — we are the lost demographic. Those of us who share more in common with Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert than with Barbara Walters or dare I say it, Oprah? We are the children born at the end of the “Baby Boom” but he and I both feel we have nothing to do with that wave of post-war babies. Our parents didn’t fight in any of the wars of the 20th century; they were in school, having their own babies, being the last of their generation’s middle class and American Dream seekers. But my husband and I share what those of us in our 40s share: even though we straddle between the boomers and the gen-x’ers, we move mountains, too. We are the creative class. The artists, designers, and innovators who seek sublime beauty in code and interface; who seek to change the world with the good of technology, and instill those ethics in our children. I promise you, I am not overstating this.

We sat in darkened theatres as adolescents and had our own heroes and heroines, we were the digital pioneers who sought form and function. We pressed ‘send’ on the first e-mails and published the first blogs. The Mark Zuckerbergs of the world sadly have their own focus: world domination via distracting, mindless games and mean-spirited interchanges. Granted, it’s not all bad. And my and my husband’s hero, Steve Jobs, certainly had his share of human foibles.  All innovators do. I would just challenge those young billionaires to be the masters of the universe, and not the robber barons; to be the voices and catalysts for change and good, share the power, wealth, and narratives.

You will be missed, Steve.

 

(My husband created that image in homage. Oh, and by the way, my husband is a creative, innovative Renaissance man himself. No doubt. He attributes his successes to Job’s providing him with the creative tools to build his career and avocations.)

http://blog.ted.com/2011/10/05/remembering-steve-jobs/

 

déborder

déborder: in French, this means “overwhelmed.”

Summer, in terms of the agricultural traditions we have in the States, is over tomorrow for me. Tomorrow is our first in-service day: it promises to be a day of reviewing the Student Handbook to make sure we, both new and old staff, are “on the same page.”

Last week, on Thursday night, I found out that I will be switching grades, from 8th to 7th. A few weeks’ prior, I found out that I will be moving rooms. This is a photo of my new classroom, after two days’ of moving from across the campus. I spent two full days using an old grocery store shopping cart, hauling my books, office supplies, flotsam, jetsam, debris, clutter, memorabilia, Beatlemania, Harry Potter movie posters, and of course, my Spiderman life-size cut out, from old space to new. This is how I left it on Saturday. I did all I could physically do. It was warm, no air, stuffy, and a very long walk with small threshold bumps and doorjambs that needed maneuvering and anticipation. This took approximately 30 trips.

The one vow I made myself at the end of last year is I would have everything mapped out, to the day, just like I had in years prior. Every holiday noted. Every student’s name on their own folder. Every composition book ready to go. Bulletin boards up, and away we go!

But, oh, that was not meant to be. And call it a sixth-sense, but I knew the best laid plans of mice and men would be wonky again. I chose to spend my summer like I had more sense: I played, I walked, and I got my toenails done. The best part of this summer was that my older son asked to have a French exchange student come stay with us for almost three weeks. He was wonderful: he fit right into our crazy family. We all enjoyed talking about politics, visiting all our favorite old stomping grounds. It was incredibly enriching to see his love of:

1. Relish (Really, France? Can’t figure this one out?!)

2. Baseball game (explaining the 7th inning stretch to him–worth the price of admission right there)

3. Krispy Kreme doughnuts

4. Dr. Pepper

…and him explaining to me the meaning of

Laïcité

powerful stuff, my friend.

 We miss him already. I have more to say about what I learned from him, from someone who is learning a new language, sharing cultures, and stories. He brought us many gifts, not least of which was an appreciation of eating a family dinner together again. He wasn’t feeling well when he first arrived, and it included a trip to the urgent care on that first Saturday morning, redneck with a head injury included to add to the tableau, and later he told me, that he knew he would be okay with us because I took such good care of him when he was sick. Are you kidding? I would expect the same from any mother, anywhere in the world.

So I will get my classroom in order. I will have a plan. And I will teach my 7th grade charges with love, care, firmness and high expectations. They are somebody’s baby.

What I did on my summer vacation.

I know you all think I have been quite the teacher-blogger-slacker-loser since June. And you’d be correct. I have reverted back to a form, a self, pre-teacher days, and pretended like the summer actually did belong to me. I know the salary for a teacher is over a 10-month time frame, so the paycheck that came the end of July and will come the last day of August are for days I’ve already worked. (And if you know how lousy I am at budgeting, you’ll know that safety-net, those ‘nanny state’ controls are a godsend for me.) But our educational system is a hungry beast, perhaps who only hibernates in the summer sun, sleeping a restive, dreamless sleep.

Do I feel rested now? Yes, but only because I managed to push, push, push so many concerns to the corner. That edge of the metaphorical rug has so much grit swept under it, it looks as if it has a body underneath. I don’t want to worry anymore. I just don’t. But, I am someone who is used to taking the wheel, navigating the seas, charging ahead, and if I leave all of the decisions to others, I will feel superfluous.

Maybe I already do.

I have more to say, but am weighing out the words so the positive ones outnumber and negatives ones.

And I have a little more time. Shhh! Don’t wake it up.

Rites of passage.

About a week or so ago, I was at a district meeting. One of the huge perks of these meetings is sometimes the group will get to go eat lunch like grownups. Nothing in styrofoam. No plastic cutlery. Real plates, filled water glasses, napkins, and hot food. There’s a Thai place we frequent: service is fast, it’s delicious, and reasonable prices. It harkins me back to my days working in pharmaceutical marketing, when I made as much as I do now, and traveled the country and the world. In fact, it was on one of these business trips that I met my husband, but that is a story for another time.

While waiting for our food, my high-school counterpart mentioned the last Harry Potter movie coming out. I began this series with my older son, and mentioned that I had asked him if he wanted to see the last movie together on its opening day. As the words were leaving my mouth, I burst into tears (getting teary writing this! EEEK!). He is far away from nest-flight, but still…so it begins. So it begins.

And I cried, I am sure, because I know what happens. I know how JK Rowling concludes this epic. I am not sure if she made these harsh choices years in advance, or just got mad or tired toward the end, like a horse seeing the barn, racing toward this end.

Yesterday I accompanied the 8th grade students to the high school. I felt like a returning celebrity: enthusiastic greetings of, “MRS. LOVE!” and lots of hugs and hellos from former students. Many of whom I honestly didn’t recognize. The evolution from a middle school child to young adult is staggering. Who were these people? There were still some shy smiles behind the older faces.

I can still see the little boys in my sons’ eyes. They are both taller than I am now. One has been shaving since 13 (no joke). I will keep this in mind when we start next year: these students are somebody’s child.

Oh, would someone please send me a box of Kleenex before the last day?

Guidelines.

Been thinking a lot recently about social media.

This was not a banner year for technology integration in my school, or in my classroom. There were more trips to the “Swap Room,” misplaced or borrowed chargers, and blatant disregard for Internet safety, common sense, and use. It’s indicative of the chaotic year we’ve had, too. I am not complaining, just processing and reflecting. I have already taken personal steps to correct ways I can be a better teacher next year, and that’s very positive.

I consider myself tech-savvy and love to use the Internet for good and not evil, and try to have some common sense and balance my teacher-life with my creative-life and personal-life. Not easy. And supposedly I am a grown-up.

But we have given immature, developing humans a very powerful tool. I am not suggesting we clip Icharus’ wings, but dang. They really have no concept for how permanent this seemingly impermanent tool is. All thoughts and notions, venting and vexes, seem to go magically away into the ether. But just talk to a politician whose career options have been, um, compromised, or a young college girl who posts an ignorant opinion. We all make mistakes, and yet this generation’s mistakes are stamped in stone. If sticks and stones break bones, the bandwidth really hurts.

I love to read good writing, and came across this post: Social Media Guidelines

For a final project, I allowed my students to start their own blogs. In spite of my warnings, a few chose to think it would be funny to use their real names, or trash-talk other students and call them out by names.

And if they fail this final project, that one bad grade isn’t going to be the most damaging thing unless I can, at the eleventh hour, get one of them to heed those warnings.

This is no joke.

Twenty points for Gryffindor!

Totally Random Quote of the morning: “Mrs. Love, are you aware there’s a banana over there?”–D

FatLadyPortrait

I tried an experiment with grading this year: not sure how it worked. The grades for this year are largely for completion, and some rubric-oriented structure. In the past, I have been a huge believer in rubrics, and even more so exit tickets, but this year –this year has been, um, pretty much not good bad yucky weird messy and kind of unraveled sort of thing. There were a few reasons for the shift to completion grading: Part of it was simple indulgence: I just wanted to see what would happen: would students be more motivated to turn work in, and try? That has been a huge issue with my students. When they go home, school is far, far behind them. (As it has been for me this year, too.) The other piece was I wanted to see if there would be organic, authentic “growth.”

And, there are mixed results.

I had a district meeting the other day; and, although it was very worthwhile work, I was still out. I left an assignment of vocabulary posters and random words. The vocabulary “posters” I use are based on the Frayer model, however, with a few important additions or distinctions. I want students to think more deeply and abstractly about words, so not only do I use synonyms, but add the concept of “compare’ and antonyms with ‘contrast.’ There are students who still say, “Mrs. Love, there isn’t an antonym for this,” and I say “BROCCOLI!” This is in reference to a big talk about examples versus non-examples, but what makes sense, and cupcakes and broccoli. How cake is not a contrast to cupcakes, but broccoli is. Oh why oh why don’t these children watch Sesame Street anymore? Which one of these things is not like the other?

Okay -went to a sad place for a moment.

Anyway: the posters turned out BEAUTIFULLY. They worked in groups, had fun, colored, engaged –all without me even being there. Is that the sign of a good teacher? Or more importantly, the sign of ‘good’ students?!

Words like: Impact, sinister, unique, consequence, and yearning stand out.

When I returned, I had them ‘present’ their posters to me and the class. We haven’t worked on presentations at all this year, and I felt more than a tinge of guilt when there were a lot of mumbling, backs-to-the-audience talks.

The thought occurred to me that, when I am putting in completion grades for their wonderful posters, I wish I could just magically yell out, “Twenty points for Gryffindor” to the magical forces, my grade book would be supernaturally completed, and all students would be smiling and successful (although I am definitely, solidly a Ravenclaw, my students would be soundly Gryffindor for their bravery and stoicism.)

It’s just too bad that most of them, realistically, won’t read the Harry Potter series. But that is a challenge for another day.

WIHWT: Just peachy.

James and the Giant Peach

http://www.roalddahl.com/

Today we had a special assembly and focus put together by the PE Department, “Wellness Day.”  The various content area teachers provided our support by creating lessons around healthy nutrition, etc.

Well, as important as all that is, my own take was to have students start to think about how food is used by writers in stories, and immediately thought of James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl. I love the movie adaptation, done by the same stop-motion animator who did Coraline and Nightmare Before Christmas, Henry Selick.

In researching a quote from the book (my copy is at home, safe and sound), I came across this Wikipedia entry:

James and the Giant Peach is a popular children’s novel written in 1961 by British author Roald Dahl. The original first edition published by Alfred Knopf featured illustrations by Nancy Ekholm Burkert. However, there have been various reillustrated versions of it over the years, done by Michael Simeon for the first British edition, Emma Chichester Clark, Lane Smith and Quentin Blake. It was adapted into a film of the same name in 1996. The plot centers on a young English orphan boy who enters a gigantic, magical peach, and has a wild and surreal cross-world adventure with six anthropomorphic insects he meets within the giant peach. Originally titled James and the Giant Cherry, Dahl changed it to James and the Giant Peach because a peach is “prettier, bigger and squishier” than a cherry.[1][2]

Because of the story’s occasional macabre and potentially frightening content, it has become a regular target of the censors and is no. 56 on the American Library Association‘s top 100 list of most frequently challenged books.[3]

AMERICAN LIBRARY ASSOCIATION’S TOP 100 LIST OF FREQUENTLY CHALLENGED BOOKS!?!?!?!

Deep breath. Deeeeeeep……breath.

But who in their right or otherwise mind would challenge this book?

Roald Dahl was a brilliant writer. His stories are sublime modern-aged fairy tales that expose the terrors and horrors of childhood. Children are in danger, all the time, in great peril caused by forces beyond their control.

So, to those of you who challenge these sorts of books, would you please consider this: do something else. Stop war. Be peaceful. Think. Make sure children don’t get hurt or exploited. Adhere to your moral compass. Don’t embrace ignorance, but choose love and knowledge.

Now – back to literary analysis. The peach may symbolize motherhood, nurturing, warmth, and love. Roald Dahl didn’t choose a peach by accident. It’s not James and the Giant Orange, or Apple, did he? (Although I think a kiwi would work.)

Think about food in stories. It will nourish you well.