Please read this blog: http://jtspencer.blogspot.com/2010/05/how-my-parents-shaped-my-teaching.html
And consider your own influences on your life. There is a balance to us all, perceptible or not.
Category: Being a better teacher
How does your garden grow?
There is an old Mother Goose rhyme which goes: Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row.
“Contrary” means stubborn, or argumentative. There has been a lot of interpretation of this and other Mother Goose nursery rhymes, but suffice it to say, at its base is the message, “Hey, chica? How do you make this work? How to you make things happen, especially when you’re so stubborn all the time?’
So, I’m going to ask myself, “How do I make my garden grow?” How do I approach the day, with 130+ adolescents who are on the cusp of the abysses, and it is my charge to build the foundation under them as they leap? (I’ll just keep mixing metaphors until I get the right formula!)
Here are my first thoughts:
- I get to know my students individually
- I find something positive in every class, and every teachable moment
- I’m firm to be kind, and set boundaries
- I work really hard, and I work really smart
- I listen
- I talk
- And I know when to do each
So, I’ll give it some more thought. What do you do?
Face the sun.
Sunflowers face the sun, and move to its path over the journey of a day’s light.
They’re hearty flowers–sometimes with faces so large, wide, and heavy, they droop a bit, but still find tenacity in their stalks to turn to the sun. Their seeds are proudly displayed, and petals unfurl, daring anyone not to smile in their presence.
I can’t make the air, or the sun, the rain, or the soil. But sunflower, I promise you I will try to make the air fresher, the light brighter, the water purer, and the soil richer. I will do what I can so you can grow, and face the sun. And follow your path.
Rip Van Winkle, wake up!
Rip Van Winkle is a story written by Washington Irving, in 1819, about a man who likes to wander away from hearth and home, and let’s just say ends up taking a very long nap. He wakes up to find his friends and family gone, and life has passed him by. His fable has been used as a metaphor for those who “sleep through their lives.” Miss trains. Lose track of time. Procrastinate, then panic.
I used to have this dream when I was in college. Not a “I have a dream” dream, but a recurring, while sleeping, dream. I am sitting in my senior year social studies class, though I don’t belong. I try to tell the teacher that I am already accepted in college, and I don’t have to be back in high school. He says I didn’t pass this one test, and everything I’ve done since then is null and void, meaning–worthless. High school diploma? Worthless. Acceptance letter for college? Nope. The dream was one of those that are so real, they stay with you, burned in the psyche and soul decades later. More of a nightmare than a dream, I’d say.
Every checkpoint along the way of a school year, inevitably I have students who pull a Rip V.W. on me. The third quarter is over. (And no, I’m not going to get into some arbitrary discussion about grading, assessments, the artificiality of time, blah blah blah.) I will get an email from the dreamer asking “Is it too late to turn in assignments?” Now, mind you, these assignments are formative assessments – I check for completion, and then give feedback separately. And, many of these assignments are two months old.
“Dreamer Dan” loves to read in class. Well, that tugs on my Language Arts teacher’s heart. Dreamer Dan will poke his head up out of his book from time to time, and provide an insightful discussion point. Tug, again. Now I’m just feeling baited. This student is obviously bright, insightful, and has something to add. So why doesn’t he just get his assignments turned in on time so I can see his thinking on paper? (Virtual paper, yes, but on paper?) Where is the resistance coming from?
Maybe I’m asking the wrong question. Maybe the question is, “What makes a student turn in their work?” Most students do get their assignments turned in on time, or close to it. And, I always accept late work, to a point. I send email reminders, links, access to resources, and stay after school to help. I answer questions, clarify, assist, modify, differentiate, and guidance.
At some point, my dreamers, it is over. The school year will be over. You won’t get to go back and redo it. You will have a job to be on time for, a plane to catch, a dental appointment to keep. We are all battling “Man versus Time.” I am doing my part by providing as creative, interesting, and meaningful instruction as I can. But wake up, kid. Be proud of your accomplishments in the moment. And no one can turn that into a nightmare for you.
Test day.
Today is our third quarter reading assessment day. Here are a few things I’ve learned:
1. Many of you don’t know what a “text box” is. (And I need to think why this is important to your future.)
2. Many of you are still struggling with using the vocabulary in context clues (you have at least six different pathways). (And now I need to think why this is important to you, too, in this age of digital dictionaries and spell check.)
3. Many of you do not know how to “draw a conclusion.” (And I am reflecting on why you need to know this, too.)
I know and respect many great educational minds whose opinions include abolishing all grading, assessment, and testing. They make very strong cases for their viewpoints. And maybe I’m just un-evolved, but I’m not quite there yet, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be.
The reason is this: I don’t know what you know until you show me. And if you can’t show me, you probably can’t do it. So, I can teach it to you!
Your mastery of disguise and ability to use ‘smoke and mirrors’ to hide some of your academic shortcomings is amazing. And I’m not being sarcastic – many of you have learned the coping skills to get through the ‘system’ with nary a glance from your teachers. And most times, I would be complacent, too; it is only those times that I sit and conference with you individually do I learn how much you don’t know. You will say that you understood it, but when we break it down, you don’t.
So, back to my original questions:
1. Why do you need to know what a text box is? Text features help you find material quickly and easily. In this world of vast amounts of information, access to knowledge is just as important as the speed in which you can access it.
2. Vocabulary: the more you know, the more you know. Use logic, make educated guesses, too. Consider a strong vocabulary like a word “bank.” The more that’s in your bank, the more you can make mental withdrawls.
3. Drawing Conclusions: this, most of all, is really important. This is your ability to show that you don’t take everything at face value. That you don’t believe everything you read or hear. That you can take a lot of facts and opinions, and develop your own opinion about it, that you can back up.
So, you took a test. And the results show these are your weakest areas. But it also shows where I need to support the framework, and strengthen my instruction. It’s for me, too. The test is a broad-stroke approach, and it has its faults and flaws. But at least now we know.
Grow wings.
So, kids, as I continue on my quest to be YOUR BEST TEACHER IN THE WORLD…WORLD..world…world..I came across this article from Time Magazine:
“Should Kids Be Bribed to Do Well In School?”
Now, think about it – there is really no right or wrong answer here. It was an experiment. The article takes a long time to get to the point, too. The first part of the article describes in detail how difficult it was for the psychologists to actually get permission to run the experiment. And, once they did, the results varied quite widely from city to city:
The results began to trickle into the lab last summer. In New York City, the $1.5 million paid to 8,320 kids for good test scores did not work — at least not in any way that’s easy to measure. In Chicago, under a different model, the kids who earned money for grades attended class more often and got better grades, two major accomplishments. Those students did not, however, do better on their standardized tests at the end of the year.
In Washington, the kids did better on standardized reading tests. Getting paid on a routine basis for a series of small accomplishments, including attendance and behavior, seemed to lead to more learning for those kids. And in Dallas, the experiment produced the most dramatic gains of all. Paying second-graders to read books significantly boosted their reading-comprehension scores on standardized tests at the end of the year — and those kids seemed to continue to do better the next year, even after the rewards stopped.
The kids had much in common. In all four cities, a majority were African American or Hispanic and from low-income families. So why did the results vary so dramatically from city to city?
One clue came out of the interviews Fryer’s team conducted with students in New York City. The students were universally excited about the money, and they wanted to earn more. They just didn’t seem to know how. When researchers asked them how they could raise their scores, the kids mentioned test-taking strategies like reading the questions more carefully. But they didn’t talk about the substantive work that leads to learning. “No one said they were going to stay after class and talk to the teacher,” Fryer says. “Not one.”
I say, this is the reason: We (parents/teachers) think you kids already know what to do to be successful in your academic work. We just say “Do your homework!” or “Study for the test!” but quite often we forget to teach you HOW to do this:
We tend to assume that kids (and adults) know how to achieve success. If they don’t get there, it’s for lack of effort — or talent. Sometimes that’s true. But a lot of the time, people are just flying blind. John List, an economist at the University of Chicago, has noticed the disconnect in his own education experiments. He explains the problem to me this way: “I could ask you to solve a third-order linear partial differential equation,” he says. “A what?” I ask. “A third-order linear partial differential equation,” he says. “I could offer you a million dollars to solve it. And you can’t do it.” (He’s right. I can’t.) For some kids, doing better on a geometry test is like solving a third-order linear partial differential equation, no matter the incentive.
It’s kind of like we’re asking you to sprout wings on your own. All the bribes and rewards in the world aren’t going to make a darn bit of difference if we don’t help you learn how to learn.
A rookie mistake that we teachers make is thinking our lessons are so wonderful, so engaging and enlightening, that when you sit there and say “This is stupid, I’m bored!” we take it personally, as if you’re saying the teacher is stupid and boring. Well, we may be, but that’s not the point. The point is we haven’t made what you’re learning worth your time, or at least the perception of it being worth your time. But sometimes, kids –you just have to trust us. We (adults) have seen around the next corner. I have seen qualified people not get a job because of a typo (misspelling) on their resumes. Really. REALLY. I have had to vie for a minimum-wage job against 30 other applicants. I have been through hours of school and professional development to achieve some success. My husband has spent hours training himself, and continues to be a life-long learner and self-made man. So, when we ask you to grow wings, we mean metaphorically, and we will show you how.
And on the subject of money – I’ve not had money, and I’ve had money, and I prefer the latter. (And I can say honestly my education has helped have and make money. It was its own reward.)
Next post: How to Study.
And the Oscar goes to…
The Movie-in-a-Minute three-day blitz of movie making was successful. The best and worst of personalities came to light: the divas, dignitaries, and documentarians did their best. There were production over-runs, technical and emotional meltdowns, but I’ll be darned – they all completed it. Every single kid. And cared about it, too, and were worried and anxious if it didn’t seem like it was going to get done!
Now, I’m scratching my head. I told them this wasn’t graded. Why did they all do it, and do a really good job, and recognize where improvement is needed with honesty and accuracy? We teachers all know about motivation and engagement, but again I ponder – what have we been doing to kids? I asked one young lad, who has been having a lot of discipline issues over the past few months, why? Was he so afraid of failing that he just wouldn’t do anything? I am not kidding – he asked me if that was a trick question. Another student had to translate it for him. He wasn’t sure. He thought teachers just had it “in for him” and that’s why over time he just stopped doing assignments.
Now, I can’t make everything un-assessed (is that a word?). That’s not realistic for life. But for those of us who not only met the rubrics and mattrices of the world, but SOUGHT them, to measure our worth and value against them (yes, fellow over-achievers, I’m looking at you), what does this mean for many of our students who not only do not seek these measurement tools, but buck and fold beneath their weight? How can I tell them that most of the time, these measurements are just bloated, full of hot air, puffed up monsters?
I was very emotional last night over some small mistakes over a recent assessment I’ve taken. I mean, I was distraught. My husband for the umpteenth time had to remind me it’s a missile I’ve fired, fireworks that have been launched, and keys in the lava…baby, it’s GONE. And then all of a sudden, enter Miss Epiphany….NONE OF THE MISTAKES I MADE HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH HOW I AM AS A TEACHER. Not. A. Single. One.
So–perhaps we can let our students know–none of the mistakes you make have anything to do with you, either. They’re just a way to learn. They’re your mistakes, along with your successes. Both teach us. But who we are, well – that’s for you to measure.
Killing mockingbirds in secret gardens: Or, how books kick our fannies. (And Sammy Sosa, too.)
This is every teachers’ dream (or it should be): a student comes up to me this morning, and hands me back my copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, telling me it “won.” He couldn’t finish it. He said he had to keep flipping back to the beginning to remember what was going on. He wasn’t assigned this book per se; it was intended for a novel project we’re working on over many weeks. He just had to find a ‘classic.’ He tried TKAM. This particular student has enjoyed some notoriety of being the ‘smart one’ in his group. And for him to a. Remember to bring me back my book after a shortened spring break and b. Having attempted to read it, waved the white flag is remarkable. You’re thinking right now: Why is Mrs. Love happy about that? A kid gave up! He didn’t demonstrate stamina, or perseverance! But, he did do something I’ve been all about all…year…long:
meta-cognition
The ability to think about our thinking.
I shared with our young reader a shorter version of this tale: When I was around 8 or 9, my beloved great-grandmother Rushie, a fellow bibliophile, gave me a copy of The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I had a very high reading level, so the text itself wasn’t problematic. But when I began the novel, it tasted like bitter collard greens. What? She’s in India? Her parents died? She has NANNIES? And who is the little sick kid, and why does he whine so much? I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why Rushie would give me something so boring and weird, but was conflicted because I loved her, and normally her gifts of books were big hits. (She also smelled of menthol cigarettes, book pages, and Avon lotion. I’m getting a little weepy just thinking about it. I miss you, Rushie!) Flash forward a few years, and I mean a few – I’m about 10. I have nothing else to read, and with a mixture of trust and boredom, pick up The Secret Garden again. Oh! I get it! I GET IT! This little bitter, sour girl warms and grows like a garden! They all learn to trust! They have friendship and warmth! And even death cannot conquer hope, and life! What a difference a few years make. Developmentally I may have been able to define words and read them with robotic fluency,
but I didn’t have the slight edge of life experience yet to appreciate or relate to the nuances of character, setting, mood, and conflict. I loved The Phantom Tollbooth when I was 10, too, but probably wouldn’t have understood the jokes at 8 either. I will never forget how intrinsically proud I was of myself for trying again, and being so greatly rewarded with a book such as The Secret Garden. I made this young man promise me at some point in the future, he would put up Mockingbird again, and he gave me his word.
The bigger “meta” in all this is WHAT IN THE NAME OF FRANCES HODGES BURNETT ARE WE DOING TO STUDENTS? There are two things I want to put out there for consideration:
1. Please don’t raise the bar so high, so developmentally inappropriate that a child has no hope in succeeding.
2. Please don’t give children a sense of false self-esteem that they believe all they have to do is show up and receive a reward. This goes for students of poverty and privilege: guilt feeds inauthentic self-esteems of poverty, and entitlement feeds the hubris of privilege.
It’s a balancing act, folks. Getting rid of all drill and direct instruction is no more appropriate than just having children talk about how they “feel”about the number seven. You are all expert teachers and educators, right? So, do you know when a text is kicking your students’ fannies? Better yet, have you taught them how to recognize when THEY are in trouble, so they can readjust? And for the love of Twain don’t tell them just to re-read it. Case in point: today in reading group we’re reading a story about Sammy Sosa. I know the rudimentary basics of baseball. My small group of students knew less than I did. There was one pun in the story, “Sammy left the ring for the dimond.” Hardy-har-har- that was in reference to when Sammy went from a boxing RING to the baseball DIAMOND. Okay. Check. My background knowledge is secure in those. But then there was another question: How would you list some of the mistakes he made? And one of the answers had to do with “cutoff man.” What? Does he wear jean shorts? Does he sweep-kick players when the ref, um, I mean umpire, isn’t looking? So, it’s almost the end of class, and I’m tired. I was flipping through the glossary, and there, is a definition for cutoff man. Hey kids, you know what, I got in trouble here with my understanding of how to answer this question – work with me here. So we had a mock baseball game in the class. I was Sammy Sosa, of course, working the in-field, and having to make a judgement about who to throw the ball to. It all made perfect sense. I told everyone then to remember next time they read something they don’t understand – act it out, say it out, think it out. It takes practice, and time. But if we really want to give our students access, we need to check in with them from time to time. Don’t let it slide by. Be their cutoff man. Because not everyone can have a Rushie.
Top Ten Reasons Why I Love My Job:
10. Standards and the structure and mandates of the state and Federal governments are really not all that bad, in fact, many of the standards, assessments, resources, and curriculum support have a lot of heart and soul, and their intent is really to prepare kids for life.
9. Collegial relationships: The professional relationships and collaboration I have enjoyed buoys my teaching spirit.
8. My classroom: I have a lot of creative control in designing the interior of my classroom. I have books, posters, quotes, and a collection of Archie McPhee’s novelty items that would be the envy of any clown. I recently asked an insurance agent how much it would be to cover loss and damages of rubber chickens. He said he’d get back to me.
7. Books, book, books: I love to read. And I have a job that basically pays me to read, and help others read, too. Whoa.
6. My family life: I know many of you would make this a much higher reason why you love teaching; don’t misunderstand me, when my family life is chaotic or messy, it can sometimes bleed over to my classroom. (I try diligently not to let that happen, though.) The teaching day and year is designed to give everyone opportunities for “life experiences” too. This does not mean to say that it won’t change–many schools are changing the agricultural model of starting school in fall, and ending in late spring/early summer. We all know we don’t have fields to harvest (well, most of us don’t–the big companies have taken over that one for us). However, we all need a mental and physical break–students included. I often use these breaks to develop new units/curriculum, read books that I think my students will also like, and attend writing workshops. But I also spend time with my own family, and support their endeavors. That’s priceless.
5. Perpetual learning: I attended the Puget Sound Writing Project invitational last summer, part of the National Writing Project. That means I get to hang out with some really, smart, creative people. No sarcasm here: I am living the dream!
4. Reading, Writing, Thinking, Communicating: My favorite things, all day!
3. Autonomy: I take it has a positive challenge to develop and create curriculum that helps my students learn, and I have a lot of say in how this is done. I am trusted and supported by administration, because I have demonstrated that I care, I know, and I am dedicated.
2. Creativity: This ties in with number 3: I get to use my creative skills to well, create! I’m off the charts with this one.
1. My students – well, duh!
Lizard Brain Trust.
I never guess. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.
– Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
I most always guess; and, tend to live by intuition, and gut instinct. That doesn’t mean that I make decisions based on my lizard brain (most of the time). My decisions are based on a cultivated mix of experience, heart, soul, data, intelligence, and reflection. There are some lessons I cannot learn–for example, I tend not to accept when people willingly choose to use their lizard brains to make decisions, contrary to the mounting evidence. We are living in lizard-brain times. Here are my data to support this theory:
- Previously rationale people are behaving in a greedy, narrow-minded way
- Previously rationale people are becoming more racist, bigoted, and homophobic
- Previously rationale people are dividing, polarizing and making a general nuisance of themselves
- Previously rationale people seem to be enjoying fanning the flames of ridiculous rhetoric and hate
My gut tells me that:
- Humans, and humans-in-the-making, love good stories; and given a good story, will work to learn to decode the symbols of text in order to access those good stories independently, with meaning and strength. They will spend precious, irretrievable time to do this. And those who provide access to those good stories step back and marvel at this miracle.
- No amount of technology will close an achievement gap without the dedicated educator to roll up their shirt-sleeves and build the bridge alongside others. It takes everyone to close this gap. Everyone. No sides, no distinctions. The leaders whom I admire most inspire me to inspire others. It’s that simple. (And if you’re not interested in closing the gap, mind it, because you might fall in!)
- Not all textbooks are inherently “evil.” (In spite of contrary evidence of what the Texas Department of Education is trying to do. I know – ever the optimist.) Sometimes a well-written anthology and curriculum can be just the kick-start for a new teacher trying to get his bearings, so he can learn to manage a classroom, meet the demands of differentiation, and maintain the passion that inspired him in the first place to become a teacher. We know we don’t do it for the money, and if that makes us martyrs, more pure, more wholesome, more generous than thou, well, man cannot live on bread alone. We need a little hubris to spread on it, too.
- Message to those esteemed colleagues who want a revolution: I’m with ya, buddy. My question is, though, can everyone be rock-star teacher? We need the roadies, too. (Sheesh – how many metaphors can I mix in this mess? Start counting.) I now have John Lennon’s Revolution strumming in my head. Thanks. But who else would rhyme Mao with how?
My lizard-brain wants more coffee. I have two days of spring break this year, rather, we have two days of spring break, because of the strike earlier in the year, and I agree that my students deserve and need all 180 days of their education (again, despite evidence to the contrary). And I will bear the complaints of friends and family who tell me they work much harder than I do without any break, so I should shut up and stop complaining. Okay. Being a teacher was a wide-eyed, open-minded, cerebral-cortex decision. So, you got me there. However, none of us are going to succeed in getting what we want, and getting what we need, if we don’t start backing up and demonstrating a little more mutual respect, dignity, and compassion to one another. At least that’s what my gut tells me.