We are here, we are learning.

Idiom Day is one of my favorite days of the year. And it's not just because we all get to dress up in fun costumes. Well, okay -- it's a little bit because of the costumes.

Each year after teaching figurative language to our students, they choose an idiom, design a costume to match the idiom's literal meaning, and come to school for a day of rotation through each 4th grade teacher's classroom for games designed to reinforce their learning.

I love seeing the various interpretations they come up with for their idioms. "Caught red handed" showed up today in several versions: with handcuffs, painted hands, gloved hands, or even wrapped in a large net! My favorite "break a leg" wore an xray screen showing a fractured leg, and I think my favorite costume of the day was a simple red t-shirt with a heart drawn on one sleeve. Simple. Perfect.

As for my amazing team, we showed up as "thrown under the bus," having a "green thumb," the "bee's knees," the ever popular classroom idiom "all eyes on me," and "it's all Greek to me." We had a ridiculous amount of fun letting all the other teachers and parents guess what our idioms where.

In the rotations, the students spent time playing 4 different figurative language games, including Jeopardy with me, where they teamed up to answer questions about idioms, hyperbole, simile, metaphor, and onomatopoeia. They enjoyed finding the figurative language within famous quotes and poetry, and completing popular idioms.

At the end of the day we gave out awards for best in class, funniest, most creative, best overall, best at keeping us guessing, and most over the top. The kids each had a moment in the spotlight to tell who they were and what their idiom was -- everyone clapped and cheered during "the big reveal!"

Next year, I think I'll take it a little further and add a bit of a research element by having my students find out where their idiom originated and sharing that information with our class when they come in costume.

So, yeah. One of my favorites. Love to dress up, love the costumes, the creativity, the laughter, and the months that follow as students run to me with a book in hand shouting, "I found an idiom!" grab a sentence strip, write it down, and post it on the wall -- a symbol to me, to them, to anyone that enters our room -- we are here, we are learning.

Today a wiki, tomorrow the world

They come in loud. A laughing, back-slapping, exclusive all-boys club.  21 hootin', hollerin' boys between the ages of 8 and 11, crashing into the computer lab like a wrecking ball in full swing.  There is no turning back now.

When I first thought of it back in June, I loved the idea of an all-boys club.  Take new collaborative technology, the opportunity to write creatively, and the shared camaraderie of boys becoming a cohesive pack, and see where it takes us.  That was the idea behind my after school club.

The reality was much scarier than the idea, however.  I hadn't actually meant to include 3rd grade, but didn't think to mention that when the forms went home.  I also never considered the fact that there would barely be enough computers for all the boys that wanted to join!  I assumed I'd have a nice, simple group of 10.  12, maybe.  21?  No way.  Third grade.  Did I mention that part?  I'm not sure what scared me more.  A huge group of boys that could easily become an unruly pack of kids that wanted nothing more than to play silly games online, or the fact that some of them were barely out of second grade. 

But there they were  on day one -- all 21 expectant faces asking about websites and online comic creators and blogging.  All eyeballing me with obvious concern.  Did they feel betrayed?  Had no one told them that the all-boys club was going to be led by (gasp) a girl??

How could a woman -- a teacher -- have anything cool to share with them about the Internet?

I probably eyed them with the same concern that day -- how was I going to manage twenty-one rowdy boys on computers at the same time, from three different grade levels?  What had I been thinking?  Why hadn't I planned this better?  Where were my parent helpers?

But I did what I always do when in doubt.  Forge ahead.  If there isn't a path, make one.  And that's what we have done.  Together.

Today was our third meeting.  Three one-hour meetings and the boys no longer look concerned.  In fact, they invite me into their jokes, grab my arm and pull me toward their computers to show me the newest treasure they have uncovered.  As of today, I officially feel like a part of the club.

Five of the boys are from my own classroom and already know how to do some of the things I introduce, so they get to be "experts" during this hour, helping me answer questions, fix problems, and run interference.  They are IT guys in the making.  It's brilliant, because I watch these kids that are typically the awkward, goofy guys in class become leaders.  For one hour a week, they take charge.  I'm eager to see how it changes our regular classroom environment.  I'm eager to see how it changes them.

Today I introduced our club wikispace, and they sank their teeth into it, quickly and repetitively erasing the home page I had created for them before finally figuring out the difference between editing the Home page and editing their own page.  It was a humorously frustrating experience.  Each time it happened we laughed, learned, and moved on.

One of my youngest members sat quietly working in front of his computer.  At the beginning of our meeting, I had asked him to pass out folders, to which he replied, "But I'm just a third grader!"

Now he sat, hunched toward the screen, clicking his way toward discovery.  I watched as he learned how to embed his glog we made a week ago onto his page, save it, and then share it with others.

"I thought you told me you were just a 3rd grader?" I said, grinning at him.

His giant smile was all I needed to see.  And that's a good thing, because a half-second later he was out of his chair and sprinting to a friend to teach them what he had learned.

I can't wait until next Monday.

Lighting the Way

This year my kids are proving to me, over and over again, if I raise the bar they will find a way to scale it. Naturally, this will be followed by a glance back at me with a, "That's all ya got?" smirk. Why not? When I challenge them, they challenge me right back.

Thomas Edison is quoted as saying, "If we all did the things we are really capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves," and I agree completely. I consider it my responsibility to help my students find out what makes them tick, grasp at their passion, and run wildly towards their dreams. They deserve that from me. They deserve a life well lived. I want to help them find that life.

The problem in the classroom (for me, anyway) is finding the way to help all of my students turn their light on. How do we take an uninterested, seemingly unmotivated student and help him or her transform into a child full of wonder? I've spent years searching for that answer, and I assume I'll spend many more -- in truth, if I ever find a solid, concrete answer, I suppose I've lost a little of my own wonder. The minute I stop growing, reaching, searching, and navigating my own maze towards excellence is the exact instant my students have a right to tune me out. I am no longer valid if I am no longer passionate about my pursuits.

I love the delight in their eyes when I show them a new way to look at an old problem. I love the flicker of pride in their eyes when a boy who once hated reading now devours books with a ferocious hunger -- as if making up for lost time. I love when past students bring me books to read because they know I will still read them, and my heart literally jumps when a struggling writer finds words they never knew they had.

This year I am seeing this happen more than ever before. Kids are enjoying what they learn. They are helping one another succeed. They are eager to try new things.

So I have to ask myself ... why? I still teach the same grade in the same school with the same level of excitement that I always have. Why are my kids jumping forward and so eager to challenge themselves now?

A few things have changed -- I went to Summer Institute with the North Star of Texas Writing Project over the summer, I have given them so many technology resources they are giddy to try them all, and thanks to Donalyn Miller's The Book Whisperer, I completely revamped the way I teach reading.

But I think it's more than the sum of these things. I am more confident. I try new things and ask questions later. I step out on a limb and say, "May as well TRY to fly since I'm out here!" more often. I share more resources. I copy less and do more.

Confidence breeds confidence. My kids spend their day with a strong, energetic, confident, passionate teacher. I like a good challenge, and I certainly don't back down from some healthy competition -- and they know this. This year, my kids are in a classroom full of choice lead by a teacher whose confidence is finally growing.

I think we're going to be good for each other, this group of 21 strong-willed geniuses and me.

Challenge #1: Learn how to use Glogster and share your favorite book:

How do you think they did?

Sharing Matters

Yesterday we partnered with a first grade class to learn about descriptive writing. They had all drawn crazy monsters, and we used their drawings to find out how important it is to include details in our writing.

First, every student grabbed a partner and one of the monster pictures. One student described the monster while the other (without looking) tried to recreate the same monster drawing. Each partner got a turn drawing a monster from verbal descriptions only.

The results were actually pretty good, or in the very least, comical. And we all learned an important lesson about accurate details.

Next, each student took one of the drawings and wrote a description of their monster. These descriptions were going to another class to see if they could match up the correct monster with the written description. The kids were eager to see if they could write something detailed enough for a second grade student to match the drawing to the description.

Well, most of them were. Burt was a little hesitant to get started. He had done a fabulous job verbally describing his monster to his partner earlier, and I reminded him of that. He nodded, uncertain. He said very matter-of-factly, "I just don't know where to start."

We looked at the picture together and I asked him what feature stood out to him the most.

"Well, I guess there are about 5 million spikes on his head."

Progress! I told him to start there and just talk aloud like he was telling a friend.

I moved away, checking on some other students. Typically, I try to check in on him often, but this project required more time for other students as well. Before I knew it, time was up and I hadn't checked in on him again. I was upset with myself -- he rarely completes a task without frequent reminders to keep going.

Suddenly, he was at my side.

"You're not going to believe it," he said, holding his paper tightly to his chest.

He flipped the paper around, revealing a page full of writing.

But that wasn't it. The back page was full also. And the words were fabulous. Completely on his own, Burt had described his monster with vivid detail! I let out a whoop and gave him a big hug. I had to share his succes -- he had to share his success! We went to his previous teacher and shared. We went to the reading specialist and shared. We shared with our class. Kids cheered, teachers hugged, he floated a little bit off the ground for a brief while.

I love the happy moments. They make everything worth it.

Breakthrough Thursday

Little steps. Big victories.

Sometimes the steps feel so tiny I wonder if we're even moving forward. I wonder if I am challenging them enough. But I follow my gut, teaching becoming a strange mix between ESP and science, and eventually all these miniature steps pool together and produce an unbelievably satisfying reward.

One of my boys came to class as a self-professed bad reader. That's a pretty hefty title to have to lug around with you from 4th grade into adulthood, I thought, and so began my search for his Holy Grail of books. His family has a big attachment to superheroes, and much of his conversation in the early days of the school year focused on Superman and all his pals and enemies. Perfect. What do you give a boy that hates to read? Comic books, of course. He sank easily into a world filled with good versus evil, enjoying how quickly he could slip through a story.

After a few quick comics, I offered him a slightly larger graphic novel -- still filled with superheroes, of course. The other boys in class were fascinated that I was allowing him to read these books, and soon there were waiting lists for the books he was reading. He began to lift his head a little higher.

Next, more graphic novels. This time, he read things without the stereotypical superhero. By now, he was asking for time to read. In fact, just the other week he said to me with his crooked, dimpled grin, "I used to think I wasn't a good reader but now I think I like reading. I'm pretty good at it."

I couldn't suppress my excitement. I gave him a huge hug. I tried not to smile so widely as to frighten the poor boy. "You're right. You are definitely a good reader."

Last week I grabbed my copy of The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick. I boldy set it on the table beside him.

"Check this out," I said, "My son read this when he was about your age. I think you might really enjoy it. It's sort of like the graphic novels you've been reading."

He was hooked. The other kids couldn't believe he was reading such a thick book. Everyone wanted to know how many pages it had. He carried it everywhere with him. He begged me to let him read instead of doing math, his favorite subject.

Today, he took it with him to dismissal, finished the last few pages while waiting for his mom, and handed it to me as he walked to his car.

"I did it!" he yelled as he passed the book to me.

His transformation began slowly. For days I felt like a kid watching a chrysalis in hopes of catching the new creation as it emerged. I wasn't certain anything was actually going to happen. But when that spark finally did light? It was fast -- FLASH -- and off he went, a reader.

Still Searching

Thursday. Most of the class is finishing up their "memory basket" writing. Five memories, five items from home attached to those memories, at least one paragraph for each memory, describing it and why the object is important.

In theory, this was a fabulous idea. In practice, it felt forced. Why did I decide on the 'one paragraph per memory' expectation? Why have any expectation beyond, "write about your memories." I wonder what their writing would have looked like. I might have seen poems, comics, narratives, any number of unique recollections could have surfaced.

But no, the organizer in me came forward. The worrier. The controller. "I must prepare them for TAKS. We must write a paragraph. Our thoughts must be coherent." And so, from their individual, personal memories we have 21 very similar sets of paragraphs.

The happy medium. I am still searching for it.

Because we do need to learn about paragraphs and organization and figurative language. If I don't ask them to show what they know, how can I say I am teaching them? The struggle between state standards and organic writing is water against stone.

Maybe I could have let them write about each memory in a different way, as long as one of their memories was shared in the form of a paragraph. Practice alongside creativity. This might be one answer.

The only thing I know for certain is, regardless of how long it takes, I'll keep searching. I'm sure the happy medium is out there somewhere.

The Happy Medium

This year our principal set forth an expectation that every class will publish a piece of writing at the end of each nine week grading period for the purpose of a vertically aligned assessment. This actually fits fairly well with an idea I've been toying around with for a school-wide publication featuring student and teacher created artwork and written pieces. My original plan was a bit larger than life (as all my plans tend to be), requiring parent volunteers, editing committees, and community sponsorship to pay for a professional grade publication.

Yes, I dream big.

But with this new writing requirement, I can actually pilot my idea quite easily. I suggested to my principal that since we will all have a prompt to respond to each nine weeks -- why not make it something all grades could associate with? It might be interesting to see how a Kindergartener and a Fifth Grade student approach the same topic.

I've asked that all teachers give me a piece of writing from their class, and that each grade level choose a teacher to offer a piece for the publication as well. It's a little more formulaic than I'd originally hoped for, but a good place to start.

When I offered this idea to my principal and a few other teachers, a suggestion was made to use character traits as the prompts. Kindergarten might write about accountability, Third Grade tackling Effort, and Fifth Grade could respond to Respect. Something like that.

I believe it's of great value to teach children about character. Children need healthy role models and honest, understandable examples of what it means to have good character. My kids write about character traits and Angela Maiers' Habitudes daily. These are important discussions embedded into our daily routine.

But I don't believe that, at the beginning of the year, you can ask a student to write about what integrity means to them and expect an authentic, substantial piece of writing in return. I'm not entirely happy about having them write to a prompt at all, but if given a prompt, I want something that they can easily identify with.

I wonder though -- am I not giving them a chance? Have I decided too early what they can and cannot do, without offering them an opportunity to shine? I just know that I want them to write about things that are meaningful to them, and I have great difficult seeing Kindergarten and First Grade excited to share about respect through their writing.

This is a yearly struggle for me. Writing for the test vs. writing in the real world. We all have standards to meet, objectives to address, but don't we also have an obligation to protect the heart of a child? To nurture their gifts by allowing them to bloom in the conditions for which they are best suited? We have entire maps and books dedicated to the care and raising of plants, based on their individual needs - from optimum planting seasons to detailed sunlight instructions. Shouldn't our kids have the same opportunity to grow as the individuals they were born to be?

Ode to Sticky Notes

This week I read Wilfrid Gordon McDonald Partridge by Mem Fox to my class.  My first experience with this book was in Summer Institute with NWP this year, and I've been excited to share it with my students.
After reading the book, we talked about the different kinds of memories that Wilfrid shared with Miss Nancy and brainstormed our own similar memories.  We've been working on writing a paragraph about each memory and on Friday we'll each bring in our own memory basket to share with the class.

I had no idea what a profound effect this experience would have on my kids!  Although I focused on sharing my warm memory and my memory that is more precious than gold, my kids wanted to share their memories that make them cry.  And they did.  Cry, that is.  I felt a little like a group therapist.  The impressive thing about it was how supportive they were of each other.  They shared connections they had to each others memories, offered encouragement, and generally showed real compassion.  It was an incredibly powerful moment.

Today, a couple of my boys were struggling to come up with memories.  One said woefully, "I have no memories."  I whipped out my handy dandy sticky note pad.  I handed a stack of stickies to the more self-reliant boy and told him to just start thinking of big events in his life and putting one on each sticky note.  "Don't worry about what memory category from the story it fits in," I said, "just make as many as you can."  He immediately set to work.

If you haven't guessed by now, the other boy was Burt.  For him, I put the stack of sticky notes in front of me, grabbed a pencil, and started brainstorming with him.  Another boy was sitting nearby and offered to help.  He started rattling off fun things he had done, and memories he had already written down, and got Burt thinking.  As Burt talked, I wrote down what he said and slapped sticky notes into his journal.  In about 10 minutes, he had two pages full of notes.

"All right," I said, "now it's time to choose something you'd like to write about."

His eyes widened.  He pushed his glasses onto his forehead and pushed his hands into his eyes.

"I really don't know what to write about."

A quote from our reading in The Little Prince floated through my mind: It is such a secret place, the land of tears.

"Okay.  Let's look at the ones you had a lot to say about."

We narrowed it down to two choices.  A time someone stole his stuff at the beach, and the time he rode a roller coaster.  He decided on the beach.  But again, he just stared at the sticky note and at me, and repeated, "I really don't know what to write about."

I showed him how much he had already shared with me, and recounted the details he had told me earlier.

More staring.

I grabbed more sticky notes and put them in front of him.

"Okay Burt.  No writing for now.  I want you to close your eyes for a minute and run this story through your mind like a movie.  Then you're going to draw each scene on a sticky.  We'll add words later."

Like magic, he set to work.  10 minutes later, he had several stick figure drawings of his day on the beach.  By then, it was time to put our journals away.  The sad look was gone, and tomorrow we'll add words to his drawings.  From there, we'll move to paper and add detail.

Baby steps.  We'll get there in baby steps.  Writing is a nearly undefinable process.  What works for one person is completely foreign to another.  But I believe we all have a process that works.  We all have a writer within.  We just have to find it.

I hope I can help Burt find his.

Looking for the 911 Message

Today we landed at chapter 5 in our reading of The Little Prince.  Before we read, I told my class to listen carefully for the "911 message" or main idea of the chapter.  We talked about what kind of information you would give 911 if you had to call them, and I spent several minutes making up fake, over-the-top conversations with 911 operators, as we giggled about how absurd it would be to call for help and never tell the person that could help you what you actually needed!

After much silliness (gasp -- silliness and learning?), we opened the book and began reading about the little prince and the baobab trees.  This chapter is rich with beautiful images.  First, I pointed out favorite quotes to my students, "But seeds are invisible. They sleep deep in the heart of the earth's darkness..." but it wasn't long before they were stopping me to point out things they noticed as well.

"But when it is a bad plant, one must destroy it as soon as possible, the very first instant one recognizes it."

This led to a conversation about how easy it is to let bad thoughts take root in your heart and push out all the good thoughts.  One boy actually said if you let bad thoughts in all the time they can "break you apart with sadness."

Today was a day when all the pieces of the day fit together seamlessly.  During a writing lesson earlier I had shared with the kids how sad I was when my grandmother died, but when I got very sad I could focus on all the good things -- learning to knit with her, making bread, picking strawberries in the garden -- all these good thoughts helped me to let go of the sadness and hold my happy memories in place.

While we talked about good and bad seeds (thoughts), and how bad seeds could take hold and split you in pieces, they brought up my grandmother, and my happy thoughts.  I mentioned the three baobab bushes that the lazy man didn't tend to, and asked what would happen if I let all my bad thoughts take root and grow, forgetting to tend the good thoughts.  The common answer was that we have to protect our heart from evil.  I was genuinely touched by the depth of thought they put into this idea!

Of course, there were funny moments too -- after talking about what "urgent" means, and explaining the word "necessity", they all started telling me they had an urgent necessity whenever they needed to go to the bathroom!

After we finished chapter 5, we worked to summarize it by listing some details, and finally, tell the "911 message" or main idea.

Here is what they came up with: The little prince warns to tend your rose bushes (good thoughts) and remove all baobabs (bad thoughts) or they will overcome you.

No wonder the narrator begs us: "Watch out for the baobabs!"

Mentor Texts Save the Day

After the craziness that was the great "My Name" experiment of 2010, I went back and simplified the lesson, recreated a template that was easier to follow, and cut the text by at least half.

What I ended up with was a one paragraph excerpt from Sandra Cisneros' The House on Mango Street, which my students could easily use as a mentor text and create their own short poem about themselves.

Hallelujah!  Burt and I had a moment of happy connection!  He wasn't sure what to say about himself or his thoughts on his name, so we sat and talked more about what he likes to do and I was finally able to push through the "I don't know" mine field of doom into a place where Burt actually used sensory details completely on his own to describe playing video games.  He finished his poem in record time -- before some of the other students! And beamed happily when I read it to the class for him.

I love the drawing board.  It is always there waiting, always open to new ideas, always a blank slate, forgiving your past transgressions.

And I was able to send Burt home for the weekend with just one more taste of success.

This is why we experiment.

Wherein I Eat My Words

Not long after my jubilation at Burt's writing success, we hit another major roadblock.  It shouldn't be surprising, I suppose, that this roadblock came in the form of a TAKS style writing prompt.  I could kick myself when looking back.  The problem, however, is that I have to get all these kids prepared to perform well on the test, but in my heart I just want to help them find a way to write that is true to who they are.  This is the great balance of the writing teacher.

This week I asked my class to revisit our writing benchmark.  The prompt was "write about a time something surprising happened" but unfortunately, Burt doesn't feel that anything surprising has actually happened to him.  After much brainstorming, he decided to write about the time his dad surprised him with two hamsters.  When he went to write he couldn't find anything to say.  His story basically consisted of: I got two hamsters. I put them in their cage.  I watched them play.

I have actually not seen Burt get excited about anything, other than the day he proudly finished his "My Name" poem.  He doesn't share much in class, he is a pretty quiet guy, and the things that many of my other students typically get excited about barely seem to register on his happy-meter.  So the fact that recalling the addition of two fuzzy squeaking balls of fluff didn't light him up wasn't a huge shock.

We sat together wrestling verbally over what might be interesting to include in his story.  When I asked him to tell me about getting the hamsters, he put his head in his hands and sighed, "I don't know."  I tried to get him engaged in a conversation:
Me: Tell me about your hamsters.
Burt: I don't have them anymore.
Me: What did you think when you saw them?
Burt: I don't know.  I didn't really think anything.
Me: What did you do?
Burt: Nothing, really.

You get the picture.  Now, I love this dude.  I just can't figure out how to get into his head.  When we talk, it's really just me talking to him.  I haven't found what really gets him energized yet.  It's painful not to be able to connect to him on the level I would really like.  I know I'm missing something.  I have got to figure it out.

I left Burt to check in with some other students, but within minutes he was standing silently behind me, papers in hand, tears on his cheeks.

We sat down on the floor and I asked him what was going on.

"I'm just not good at this.  I don't know what to say."

I asked him what he wanted to say, which was about the dumbest thing I could have asked.  If he knew what he wanted to say he wouldn't be in tears!  His hunched over shoulders and continued tears smacked me right in the forehead.  I tried a new tactic.

"It seems like writing about your hamsters isn't much fun for you." (Duh, what tipped you off, lady?)

I asked him if he was sure that this was a story he wanted to keep writing, explaining that sometimes we try out a story and realize we just don't have as much to say about it as we thought.  He agreed that he felt like it wasn't something he was excited to write about but then just stared at me, which left me feeling horrible because I honestly wasn't sure what to offer him next.  So I asked him if he could start over completely, what else he might enjoy writing about.  He gave me the answer I have come to expect: "I really don't know."

By this time, we needed to end writing time and move on to something else.  I closed his journal and told him that we would put his story away for now and next time we could talk about other things he might be interested in writing.

But I felt like I failed him.  And I wonder if I made him feel like he failed, by telling him he didn't have to write about the hamsters.  To me, if the writing feels like passing a kidney stone, then it might be wise to put it away and try something else.  I can't give him the words to write his story, but I need to be able to help him find the words.

How do you help someone find their words when they seem to have so few words to say?

Reflections on Spelling

I’ve decided to revisit my original spelling idea because:

• Often, my students are not using the correct rule (long a instead of short, etc.)
• I don’t feel that if I introduce the rule on Monday and they turn in a project on Tuesday, they have spent enough time manipulating the sound enough to know it, and I feel that after they turn in their project they feel “done” and quit looking.
• Some of the words they use are so high-level that I have never seen them before.  I know these words are not coming from their reading.
• My original purpose was to combine spelling with vocabulary, and I don’t feel we are building vocabulary in a meaningful way.

Reflections:

• As I read the first 20 pages of The Little Prince over the weekend I collected words for this week’s rule.  I realized that some of the project choices I had already set for the students this week would be painfully difficult to do.  One of the choices would actually be impossible if I only take words from The Little Prince reading.  I want them to use critical thinking skills, but I also need to scaffold that process so they can be successful.
• I realize now that I began this process backwards.  I told them the plan, explained the process and the projects, and let them go.  In any other thing I do with them, I always model first.  There was no modeling with this process.  I only modeled listening for words during our read alouds, but I feel now that was not enough.  I just threw out a big box of toys, and let them go to town.  Granted, they were incredibly excited, but the end result was not what I envisioned.

Back to the drawing board:

• This week my class is starting The Little Prince with our Global Read Aloud project.
• I’ve read the first 20 pages, which we will read in class this week.  I found 66 words in varying challenge levels that follow this week’s rule.  Considering that they only need 10-20 words, I feel confident that they can find enough from our read aloud time to make their list.  I will tell the students at the beginning of each week how many words I found while reading, and challenge them to find more.
• As I’m reading, the students will have their new* Word Collectorswith them.  I will first model listening for the correct pattern, putting emphasis on the long e sound.  I will add the word to ourWeekly Word Wall, making a big show about checking spelling from the book as I write it on the Wall.  I am considering adding a Power Teaching style technique by having the students shout “E! E! E-E-E!” when they spot a word this week, but I don’t want it to be too distracting.  More than likely, after I model finding a word and stopping to add it to the wall, I will instruct them to quietly get up when they hear a word and go to the wall to add it.
• Students will use the group list we create (which should have many more words than what they need) to begin their own project list by Wednesday when we go to computer lab.
• They must choose 10-20 words from the list.
• 5 words must be challenging vocabulary.
• There must be a word to represent each way of using the rule in their list.  For this week, this means words like peal, because, receive, free, etc.
• Their project must demonstrate correct use of their 5 vocabulary words, and correct spelling of all 10-20 words they use.
• For now, I will continue with the 4 multiple-intelligence based choices, but they will all relate somehow to our reading from the week.  This focus on relating projects to reading will also increase comprehension, making our weekly project combine spelling, vocabulary, writing, comprehension, multiple-intelligences,and creativity.  I may also offer one free choice which is not related to our reading, but they will still be expected to adhere to all other requirements.  They may choose to complete a free choice project once a month.
• Until all students are showing mastery level understanding of this process, projects will be done in class, with time given in computer lab and on Friday to complete their work.  Once all students have mastered the process, they may begin using words from their own personal reading for their projects.  We will then begin having abrief time in class each day to share words and check for understanding of spelling and meaning.
• If students find words throughout the week in their own reading that they believe relates to the rule, they may share it with me and add it to the board if it is correctly spelled and fits the rule.  Alternatively, if it is a vocabulary challenger, they can write the word and definition or word used correctly in a sentence on a sentence strip and post it in the room.  I expect this to begin happening at some point quickly, and the more the students see it happening, the faster it will spread to other students.  This is a part of scaffolding their learning of this process.

Concerns I still have:

• Listening for words will distract from listening for meaning. Possible Solution: I stop often to reflect on meaning, connections, purpose, word choice, etc. whenever doing a read aloud.  This may actually help teach them to be able to hunt for words while analyzing text as they read on their own.  Also, having projects based on our reading will aid with comprehension of what has been read.
• Moving to the wall will cause a break from the story in which they are not focused. I could have students collect words in their Word Collector and at the end of reading students can choose words to add to wall.  The problem with this is I really want to see all words they add right away to check for spelling/correct use, and waiting for 21 kids to add words after reading is time consuming.  Possible Solution: let students add words in Word Collector and at end of reading I will go to the Weekly Word Wall and have students call out their findings.  They will change their spelling to match mine, add words to their page they did not have, and we will tally words daily to see how many we found.

*Word Collector: we will make a small paper booklet in class that they will bring to the rug for read alouds.  Each page will have the rule for the week written on top.  They will collect words as they hear them on that page.

A Little Taste of Success

One of my new students (we'll call him Burt) was described to me last year as a boy who "cries whenever it's time to write."  Of course, I asked to have him placed in my class this year.  There's just something about those little struggling guys that pulls at my heart!

And he is definitely a struggler.  Sweet boy, very willing to work, but has a difficult time organizing his thoughts into meaningful sentences and paragraphs.  Assignments have to be given to him in pieces, or he appears quickly overwhelmed.

This week, we have been doing some pattern writing with the mentor texts "My Name" from The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros and Where I'm From by George Ella Lyon.  I found this particular activity on the EC Ning, and probably should have tested it out a little more thoroughly before jumping into it with my students!  It's a great activity, but there is a template the kids use to complete their poem that is slightly disorganized.  This sent quite a few of my guys into a tailspin.

Naturally, I was worried about Burt.  I checked in on him, and though he was definitely moving along at a slower pace than the norm, he was happily moving forward.  We sat together for awhile and talked about his word choice, and since this writing is mostly about yourself and your family, we shared a little about both our families.  Satisfied that Armageddon was not right around the corner, I left him to work.

A few days later, and several breakdowns from students struggling to fit into this God-forsaken template (honestly, why did I not see this problem before I taught the lesson??), Burt came up to me, wrinkled paper in hand, toothy grin plastered across his face.  He held the treasure up to me, his eyes wide.

"You did it!" I beamed, reading his words out loud and giving him a hug.

"I did," he said quietly, "I finished it."

No tears, no fuss, but a little pride bubbling through his shell.  A little taste of success in what I hope is just the beginning.

Making a Difference

Today we were working on our "all about me" dodecahedrons.  The students write and draw something specific about themselves on each pentagon.  One of the tasks was to write and draw something "you are good at."  Typically, this is an easy one.  Who doesn't like bragging about themselves?

As I walked through the room, I came across one boy that was sitting rigidly bent over that pentagon, pencil unmoving in his hand.

"What's up?" I asked, squatting down beside him.

He quickly, and with a little exasperation, explained that he couldn't draw what he was good at.  This seemed odd, but I thought maybe he was going to be one of my guys that doesn't like to draw.  I asked why he couldn't draw it.

"Because I love to hunt, and we can't draw guns at school," he said.

"Hm," I responded, "why is that?"

His eyebrows popped up and he gave me a look of pure disbelief.

"Well, we're at school.  I thought we couldn't talk about guns at school."

His face was scrunched up like a question mark.

I asked him if he felt like he was good at hunting, and if that was what he truly loved to do.  He gave me a huge smile.

"Heck yeah!" he said, "me and my dad go out huntin' all the time!"

"Then you should draw yourself hunting, even if that means you are drawing and writing about guns."

I think his face lit up so much the room got brighter for a moment.

Is there any better reason to teach?

Technology is King

Unbelievable.

You give kids the freedom to choose their own spelling words, offer them a few choices on how to show their knowledge, sprinkle some new technology into the mix, and what do you get?

Kids that are bouncing off the walls with excitement about spelling and vocabulary, that's what!

I'm not sure I've hit on the best plan for my end-goal yet, but I am amazed at the products my students are sharing with me!  Nightly emails with funny, well-crafted videos created through GoAnimate are flooding my inbox.

All it took was opening the door, and showing them how to walk through.

I can't wait to see what else this year holds.

Learning Means Changing

The new school year is right around the corner, and I’ve been scribbling down ideas and typing up plans as if I were training for a marathon.
And in a way, I am.
Many of the plans are new, exciting, infant-sized creations that I am hoping will be as important our growth as I believe they will be.
I’ve always struggled with spelling plans.  Growing up, I was the kid that memorized lists 30 minutes before the test, kicked out the answers, and aced every exam.   Often, memorization wasn’t necessary because spelling has always come easy for me.  I’m just a wordnik by nature.  No assembly required.
As a teacher, it quickly became apparent that my spelling rules and lists and tests weren’t very effective.  The good spellers remained good spellers, but the lists did nothing to strengthen their vocabulary.  The struggling spellers still struggled, and the weekly results on their spelling tests did nothing to boost confidence.
My district tried new methods.  Different word walls requirements.  A variety of strategies.  Still, nothing seemed right.
To top off the ineffectiveness of the whole process, my kids were uninterested in the words we studied each week.  Noting really “fit”.
It was definitely time for a change.  This year, my kids will generate their own spelling and vocabulary lists based off of our district’s weekly spelling rule from the scope and sequence.  Words will come from across our curriculum, and their personal reading and writing.  At the end of each week (or every two weeks), they will create a project that shows their understanding of the rule.  I’ve made a list of possibilities that span the multiple intelligences.
We will also have a Greek/Latin root word weekly study with student made products as our guides, which I am blatantly stealing from Bonnie Smith over at the English Companion Ning. Great ideas there!
My goal is to stretch their learning, inspire them to be on the constant hunt for new and interesting words, and (shhh, don’t tell!) have some fun along the way.
I’m eager to get started and see how it looks in action!